The Arrangement Anthology 1(127)

“He didn’t kiss you?”

She smirks. “He didn’t touch me. Not even a handshake.” My gaze falls to the floor. I don’t know what to think. Mel’s voice snaps me back to reality. “Now you, where’d you go last night?”

I shove my hands into my hair and rub my scalp with my fingertips. When I look up at her, I say it. I just spit it out because Marty tattled. “Home. I went by the house, okay.”

Mel’s larger than life expression falters. It’s gone in a flash. She’s off the stool and next to me, but I don’t want her pity. I can’t stand it when people act like I’m falling apart. It’s already happened. I wish they’d just accept me the way I am, because I’m all fucked up and no amount of sympathy is going to change that.

“And...”

I’m off the bed, standing, pacing. I move too much when I’m stressed and I have more anxiety than I can manage. “And nothing. Marty picked me up out front.” I don’t tell her the memories that flooded my mind. I don’t tell her about the train station or the walk down those streets. There are no words. Mel cut her family off. Mine was ripped away from me.

The bathroom door opens and Marty walks out. He’s wearing dark jeans with a ripped knee and a form fitting tee shirt the same color as his eyes. His golden hair is tousled, like he just rubbed it with a towel. I stare at him. I wonder if he slept next to me, but I’m afraid to ask, afraid of what’s happening to us.

Mel glares at him. “You knew about this—you knew she went to her old house and didn’t call me?” she snaps at Marty.

Marty is looking at me with those big brown eyes. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. It’s like he just figured out how incredibly messed up I am. “I didn’t realize it was her childhood home.”

She pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs. Mel ignores Marty and turns back to me. “So, what are you going to do now? You can’t handle this guy, Avery.”

“I can’t handle this life, Mel. I’m up to my neck in bills.” I round on her. I’m sick of people thinking they know what it’s like to be in my shoes. They don’t. Even Mel has no idea. The muscles in my neck are so tense that my voice sounds strangled. “Do you know what I dream about? Do you know what I see when I close my eyes at night? Water. It’s everywhere and I can’t swim anymore. It’s exhausting. I stop swimming as the sea creeps up my shoulders, and then my neck until the top of my head goes under. Every fucking night, it’s the same dream. I drown in black water.”

Mel is quiet for a moment. “Did going home help? Did you have the dream last night?”

I think about it. I’m not sure. “I didn’t dream anything last night.”

I wonder why. I always have nightmares. Some are worse than others, but it’s a normal part of my life. They started when my parents died and never went away. There are two dreams. In one I’m alone and drowning in an unending ocean. In the other, I’m screaming, telling my parents not to go, but they can’t hear me. It rips my heart out of my chest every time, making all the scars ache like the accident just happened.

I feel Marty’s gaze on the side of my face. I turn and look at him. “What?” I wish he’d say whatever it is that he’s been thinking. I’m too brain dead to figure it out.

He smiles at me and looks away. “Nothing.”

Mel watches the two of us. Her gaze flicks between me and Marty, like she’s trying to figure out a puzzle. She shakes her head and says, “Come on. It’s pancake time. Get this girl some clothes and let’s get going.” Mel claps her hands together and rubs. Marty grabs a pair of sweat pants from his closet and tosses them to me.

I decide to eat first and shower later. Maybe some fresh air and food will clear my head.





CHAPTER 5





I manage to go to a few of my classes, but I’m so tired. When I walk back to the dorm, I’m thinking about Sean. I wish he was here. I wish my life made sense. Nothing is stable. It feels like everything is shifting beneath my feet. Every time I think I figured things out, the world gets tipped on its side again. I can’t stand it. I’m clinging, hanging on but it doesn’t make a difference. It doesn’t matter how much I try, nothing changes for the better.

As I walk through the parking lot, I glance over at my car. Sean is sitting on the hood. His jacket is zipped up to his neck. It’s freezing outside. He slips off the hood and rushes over. I stop and stare at him, like he’s an apparition.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” I say back, still shocked to see him. My mood is so fragile. I know what I need to say, I just don’t want to. “Sean, this isn’t working out—”