The Wicked

Travis and Olivia have something to do today, so we make plans to meet up with them later at one of their favorite clubs, and Penelope and I start walking downtown to get some fresh air.

“I can’t believe you did that.” I laugh, squeezing Penelope’s hand with my own.

“Well…” She grins. “If you’re going to get my initial, I’m going to get yours.”

“Now, even if you leave me, you’ll always remember that you’re mine.” I smirk. “No one else.”

“Eh.” She waves a hand. “I could always get it covered up.”

I tackle her and squeeze her waist, careful not to bump her ribs. “You wouldn’t dare.”

She laughs, smacking my hands away, then slides her fingers through mine again to keep walking down the sidewalk.

After a few minutes, she pulls me into a little coffee shop and we get lattes, then continue our walk hand-in-hand. Everything feels so natural with Penelope, like she’s filling holes inside of me that I grew so familiar with that I never thought they would be anything but black pits.

I don’t think there’s been another chapter of my life when I’ve smiled as much, laughed as much without the help of uppers, been so peaceful without the help of downers. My demons are quieter when she’s around, like they’re afraid of her, like she’s the one and only threat who could kill them once and for all, send them spiraling back to hell so I can live easier.

The sun has started to set behind the high rises, and the streets are rushing with the evening traffic as people start to head home from work or out to dinner. My stomach growls, as if reminding me that it needs sustenance to keep the blood flowing through my limbs so we can keep walking.

“Wanna get some dinner?” I ask Penelope. “There’s a little Italian place around the corner.”

She nods, pulling my arm over her shoulder and wrapping her own around my waist. Her eyes are sparkling with the reflection of the sunset, and her freckles are a golden shade of brown that make me want to play connect-the-dots on her skin with my fingers. She’s ethereal – a walking goddess.

We walk another few blocks, then head inside a restaurant I’m familiar enough with that I know to slide a fifty across the hostess stand to get seated right away.

After the guy behind the stand pockets my cash, he grabs two menus and leads us into the dark and cozy restaurant to seat us at a table in the back corner.

“Thank you,” I say, tipping my head to the host as Penelope and I both take a seat on either side of the wooden table. He tells us to enjoy our meal, then heads back to his stand.

Penelope looks around the room, admiring the little twinkling lights that hang above the bar and the old wooden furniture that feels homey. I look at her, though. Wondering what I did in this lifetime to know her – I certainly didn’t earn it, I didn’t deserve it, and I still don’t know if I’m going to get to keep her forever. I hope I do. I hope by some miracle I end up being with her forever, because I’m not sure what it would do to me if I lost her after how deep my feelings have grown for her.

The Xanax I took earlier has long worn off, and my back is starting to sting from my fresh tattoo, but it’s a sting I’ve grown to savor, to enjoy.

I only have so much skin, and one day I’m not going to have any more room left. I’m not sure what I’ll do for a painful release then.

“You’ve been here before?” Penelope asks, pulling my attention.

I nod, picking up my menu. “I used to come here with my parents growing up, whenever we were in the city.”

“You came to New York a lot?”

I nod. “Maybe once a month. New York was always my mom’s favorite place.”

“So why did they settle down in North Carolina, then?” she questions, tipping her head to the side.

I shrug. “No clue. They moved us down when I was a baby. I always figured we would end up back in New York, since our family is here, but then my mom died… and you know the rest.”

She reaches across the table and slides her fingers through mine. “You think you’d want to live here again one day?”

Shaking my head, I run my thumb over hers. “I’d love to be closer to Trav, but I don’t think I could stomach the city for longer than a couple weeks before I went crazy.”

She laughs, nodding. “I get that.”

I lean forward. “What about you? Think you’ll stay in Luxington forever?”

“God.” She cringes, and I laugh. “I hope not.”

“So where are we going then?”

“We?” Her eyes sparkle with humor. “I wasn’t aware we were moving away together.”

I smile at her with my mouth closed, sliding my thumb over her hand. “You’re not going anywhere without me, baby.”

She pulls her hand from mine and sits back in her chair, staring at me. “And what about next year, when you go away to college?”

“You’ll come with me.” I lick my lips.

She blinks at me a few times, and when she opens her mouth to speak again, the waiter walks up and interrupts us.

Penelope orders herself a glass of wine, and I opt for some water to keep a level head, and once the waiter has walked away, I lean forward to grab her hand again. “You don’t want to come with me?”

A small smile touches her lips, “It isn’t that, H. I just moved back to Luxington to be with my parents, I can’t just uproot my life again.”

“Why not?” I ask, feeling my chest heating.

“You don’t even know where you’re going yet. Can we just have this conversation closer to the time?” she says quietly. “I don’t want to fight.”

“Sure,” I say, feeling dread sink into my gut. Grabbing my menu, I start reading over the different Italian dishes they serve, and after a moment I realize I haven’t retained anything so I start over.

Lasagna. Rigatoni. Linguini. Eggplant Parmesan. She’s not going to come with me, she’s not going to come with me, she’s not going to come with me. I’m going to lose her.

My chest starts to swell, and my throat itches.

I clear my throat. “I’m going to go to the bathroom really quick.”

I kiss her on the head as I pass, the blood rushing in my ears, so I don’t hear her response. Closing myself in the bathroom, I find an empty stall and lock the door, digging around in my pockets for some Xanax.

I can’t fucking lose her.

Once I slide three bars on my tongue, I swallow them down dry, hating myself.

I take a deep breath, then walk out of the stall to wash my hands. I have a good ten minutes before the Xanax starts to soothe my anxiety, and I can get through that.

Washing my hands, I stare at myself in the mirror until the water turns hot and starts to hurt, then I dry my hands on some paper towels and throw them in the trash.

Our drinks have arrived when I make it back to the table, so after I sit back down, I swallow a mouthful of water to get the phantom feeling of pills stuck in my throat to go away.

“You okay?” Penelope asks, putting her wineglass down on the table.

“I’m fine,” I say, smiling at her and hoping it’s convincing. She grabs my hand again, and I run my thumb over her nail. “You know what you want to eat, baby?”

She nods. “Going for the timeless classic – spaghetti.”

I laugh. “Good choice.”

The waiter returns, and we order our food, then fall back into meaningless conversation.

I’m fading as the Xanax fills my bloodstream, and I hope my eyes haven’t started to droop and thin out. I don’t want her to know that I’m still taking pills, I don’t want to worry her, and I don’t want to ruin this trip. I know that I’m fine, and that’s enough for me.

After another ten minutes, I catch a familiar face in the blurry, peripheral vision over Penelope’s head. I blink a few times, trying to get the image to disappear like a hallucination. When my eyes focus over her head, and I realize I’m not imagining shit, my jaw grows tight and I laugh humorlessly.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, making Penelope stop in the middle of whatever sentence was slipping from her lips.

“What?!” she asks, nervous, squeezing my hand.

I shake my head, and my face burns with anger. “This cannot be fucking happening. Not now.”

“Hayden,” she says, trying to get my attention. “What is it?”

I blow a breath from my nose, my nostrils flaring.

“My fucking father.”