"No! No, I…" He tries to touch me, but I recoil.
Vibrating with anger and torment, I take a step away. "You don't think I'm good enough for you? I am the one who has stood by your side through all of this! I-I-I have defended you, lied to people I care about for you, been your support, your rock, and you…" I chuckle and run my hands through my hair as I force a horrible realization into my mind. "I'm never enough, am I? Not pretty enough, not couth enough, not…" I swallow the rest of my words. "Get out."
"Joanna, please. I'm--"
"Get the fuck out of my house!" I shriek at the top of my lungs. "Please. Fuck. Go. Just go."
"I'm sorry," he whispers desperately before backing away. Like Lexie before him, he flies out.
Even when he's gone I just stand staring at the spot he was in with such hatred he may as well have been there still. Bring it home, Jo. I start shaking my head like there's a rock rattling in there I want out. I thought it would be difficult to cry on cue, but the sorrow's been building for days. I let 'er rip. A blubbering sob escapes, and I cover my mouth to stop them, but they continue on. I crumple on the couch and sob my heart out. For Brendan, for Lexie, for Jem, even for me. Because if this fails, I really will lose him forever. And that really would break my heart beyond repair.
The curtain falls.
*
She's gone. The next day, after the funeral, I take a walk along the beach to see if I can talk to Lexie, but instead of her, I find men boxing up the house and moving furniture into a truck. One of them men tells me she's already left for Independence. I slowly meander the way I came to my house. I hate the place now more than ever. Even in the damn bathroom I swear I can sense his eyes on me. And it's hard being "on" all the time. I've been moping around the house like a less cheery Hamlet, or on occasion snapping at Dobbs or Shannon. I even called my sponsor on my tapped phone. That was actually helpful. If I get through this farce without a real drink, it'll be a miracle. I already had Dobbs fill a whisky bottle with ice tea in case I need a prop. Luckily, I had twenty years experience of heartbreak to draw on for this performance. Method acting at its finest. Hope Cain enjoys the show.
I trudge up the stairs to the mansion, but stop just before I reach the top. Game face. My body becomes slack, my shoulders hunched, and the scowl I've been sporting since Jem fled is plastered to my face. Rejected, depressed, unloved, pissed. Got it. I make my way up to the patio. Pretty sure I've spotted a camera attached to the light fixture. That makes five already. Big bastard brother is watching. I open the sliding glass door, stepping into the living room (camera on the map above the fireplace) where my ex sits watching the news and sipping a cup of coffee. Thank God. Another one I didn't think would show. After all he's swamped trying to catch a terrorist. Little does he know that by coming over today that's exactly what he's doing.
"Shit. Harry. I'm sorry, have you been waiting long?"
"Only five minutes or so."
"Oh. Good." I shrug off my coat and move around to him. "Thanks for coming over. I would have come to the precinct, but I just…" I shrug and scoff as I sit. "Lexie Darby's left town apparently."
"Really? Does that mean--"
"Yeah. Galilee Falls has managed to kill or scare away two more heroes. We're pretty much on our own. Again."
"Oh. Sorry. I know you were all close."
I scoff. "Yeah. Right." I unleash the image of Justin and Rebecca when they announced their engagement into my brain. Still feels like a punch to the gut. "I think I was wrong, Harry."
"I'm sorry?"
"I mean, I was right. Before. I've just been wrong the past few months."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asks.
"Superheroes. All those years I despised them. Everyone said I was wrong. That they were good for us. Powerful. Righteous. They were on the side of the angels. Gods that walk the earth to protect us. I realized…those people are morons. Because they forgot, we forgot, with God comes the Devil. I forgot this. I drank the Kool-Aid, and I kept drinking it even though the first time I did with Justin, it brought me to death's door. I guess I'm just a glutton for punishment, huh?" I chuckle, which turns into full blown cackling. Harry just stares at me as if I've cracked. Good. "Oh, life is just so fucking ridiculous, isn't it? Good Lord."
He lets me continue cackling like a loon for about thirty seconds before I taper them off. I really need to make sure I don't overact. Harry believes me, though. He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. "Are you…okay?"
I cackle again. "Yes, I'm fine. Completely fine. Can't you tell?" I shake my head and chuckle some more. "Oh, Harry." I fall back into the couch in defeat and roll my eyes at my own fake stupidity. My wonderful ex gazes at me, so sad for me. Perfect. The man is so damn close to perfect. "Why did you like me?"