Before Sunday

Twenty Five

I smile. "Thank you."

"Shower. I'll be back with your milk duds by the time you get out."

I wait for him to walk out the door and lock it behind him, before spinning on my heels and heading down the hallway, phone in hand, fingers flying across the keyboard.

X

What?

You don't mean that

I do. Every word.

I stare at the screen as if I can look at it long enough and erase his text.

You can't

Why not? He doesn't know you Lola. Not like I do.

No one knows me like you do. That's not fair.

Neither is having to stand around and watch my life get scooped up by some magical fucking figment of your imagination come to life.

I'm not your life

Try again, Mouse. You are. You know it.

So were you keeping me on standby till you got through your little black book?

There is no reply. Angry now, I place the phone on the counter, strip my clothes off and shower before Jackson and my milk duds return. I pick "Pretty Woman" and focus on the film, embracing the moment with Jackson and the way the milk duds melt on my tongue. I focus on anything but Xavier.

*****

The following morning I get out of bed and Jackson doesn't so much as change his breathing. I must have tired him out. I put on my clothes, and retrieve my phone from the nightstand drawer where I'd put it after my shower. When I flip the screen over, I'm grateful that it's almost dead. Xavier's reply taunts me from the screen.

Not standby. I wanted to be good enough for you.

I don't respond. I pocket the phone in my jeans; as I do this I mentally prepare; I brace myself for the first, and I swear only time I will ever lie to Jackson. I rouse him from his sleep. He groans and rolls over, his eyelids fluttering open. They go from sleepy to surprised when he sees me dressed.

"What's the rush, Angel?"

"It's Tori," I say. "She texted me. I need to go home for a bit."

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah," I say, "everything is fine. Go back to sleep."

He looks disappointed but not the least bit suspect. "Oh. Okay." He squints at the alarm clock. "You coming back later?"

I nod and head to the bedroom door.

"Not so fast."

I turn to face him.

"Get your fine ass back here and say see you later like you mean it."

This earns a legitimate smile from me. I haul myself back to the bed and climb on it, making my way to Jackson. I place my mouth on his and his hand finds the back of my head, his fingers winding through my hair. When I pull away, he bites down softly on my lower lip.

"That's better," he says. "See you later, Angel."

Guilt chews away at my insides as I leave him behind.

I walk at a brisk pace, which turns into a run. I want to throttle Xavier. No holding back. I cannot recall a single time I've ever been this angry with him. Not even in sixth grade when he tied my shoelaces together at a school assembly.