Last Place You Look

Chapter 34

Three weeks.

Three weeks of nothing.

Three weeks of failed interviews and missed opportunities. I was losing all hope and questioning everything I thought I knew about myself and my writing. My parents found out I'd lost my job. Kira told Harry, Harry told Malakai, and Malakai had dropped the news to them a week and a half ago.

I was furious that Harry had told Malakai, but then he told me why he did. His intentions were good, even if his execution wasn't the best.

"I thought maybe your dad could help if he knew."

He said that and I thought that it was sweet that my boyfriend cares that my writer father was there to support me through this, because he has also experienced this kind of heartbreak. But then he kept talking.

"I just figured he had to have some kind of connection in the city and could call someone to pull a favor or something. Just something to get you back to work until you find something more permanent again."

And my blood started to boil.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Harry, but it sounds like you're implying that I'm incapable of finding a job by myself and have to run to my parents to fix my problems."

"That's not what I'm saying and you know it's not."

"Enlighten me then. Tell me what you're trying to say."

"I'm just saying that it's okay to take advantage of the people your father may know."

"Because I can't do this by myself." He rolled his eyes at me, pissing me off more.

"You're being irrational and putting words in my mouth, Charlie." I couldn't help but let my jaw drop.

"Okay, so first I'm incapable of fixing my problems on my own and now I'm irrational. That's great. Thank you so much, Harry."

"I'm just telling you to call your dad, Charlie. That's literally it. It's been three weeks. I can see you going crazy because you're not working."

"Well at least we can add crazy to the list with failure and irrational!" I threw my hands in the air and let them slap back down on my legs.

"I'm just trying to help!" Harry had never raised his voice to me whenever we argued. But this one felt far passed an argument. This one felt like a fight. We'd never fought before.

"Maybe I don't want your help, Harry!" His mouth opened quickly and closed just as fast.

"Fine. I won't try and help then." I turned my back to him, pinching the bridge of my nose between two fingers and resting the other hand on my hip. I stayed there, trying to calm my breathing until I heard the sound of his shoes. He was grabbing his jacket and keys as he walked out the door. "Don't wait up." He slammed it behind him, his car starting a few seconds later. He pulled out of the driveway and I let out the loudest scream I could.

I didn't wait up though. I woke just enough to see him come in the room, trying to be as quiet as he could. He stumbled a bit through our bedroom. I chalked it up to the dark but I could smell the booze rolling off him when he laid down.

I could feel the tension when he rolled out of bed the next morning. He knew I knew that he'd left to go get drunk. I sat in the living room as he moved through the kitchen. He ate there and went to the bathroom immediately after washing his dishes. The shower turned on a few minutes later. I didn't want to be mad anymore, but he really hurt my feelings with what he'd said the night before.