She disappears up the stairs and Dad and I take a seat at the breakfast nook. I choose my usual spot on the bench and he slides into his favorite corner. Glassy blue eyes inspect me, just as thoroughly as I’d inspected him. “How’s school?”
“Fine.”
“I got a letter from financial aid,” he says.
Of course, he did, but my scholarship isn’t why I’m here. “Tell me what’s going on, then we can talk about school, or life, or the Lakers or whatever else you want.” He pauses for a beat, debating his words in his mind. I can see the wheels spinning. He’s trying to figure out how much of the truth to tell me. “I can handle it, Daddy,” I say though we both know it’s a lie. I handle things about as well as a toddler hopped up on sugar and watching Baby Shark on a continual loop. Just one dead battery away from a full-on meltdown.
“I didn’t want to do it over the phone, and I didn’t want to lie. I’ve told enough of them to you girls.” He sniffs, a habit cultivated from a lifetime of cocaine use.
“Are you using again or not?” I demand, as dread eats away at the lining in my stomach.
“No, but I have some stuff going on and I didn’t want to worry you girls.”
“Daddy, you’re scaring the shit out of me.” I stand and retrieve two of the beers from the fridge. I hand him one and crack open the other, draining half of it before returning to my seat.
“I’ve,” he begins, not bothering with the can in front of him. “I went to the doctor and they found a mass—” He swallows.
“A mass?” I choke out. “As in?”
“Just a small little thing in my lung. I had it removed and they’re following it up with a few rounds of chemotherapy just to be safe.”
“Wait.” I jump to my feet so quickly the bench tips over, crashing to the floor with a loud bang. “You had surgery and chemo and you didn’t tell me?” I scream the words. It feels good to scream. It feels good to be angry. It’s better than the alternative.
“I didn’t want you to worry. I know you’re at that fancy school and doing so good.” I can see the pain of his secret in his eyes, but I’m so mad I can’t process it. My dad, the only parent I’ve had in my life for as long as I can remember, has cancer.
“What if something happened to you?” I yell. “What if you’d died?”
“Honey, I’m fine.” But he’s not. I can tell. He looks like death. I see it in the shadow of his eyes, and the hollow of his cheeks, and in his pale, yellowish skin.
“You’re selfish.” I shake my head back and forth as tears stream down my face. “You’re just like her.”
“Cherry.” He stands, his hands lifted in surrender. “I’m sorry. I just…”
“No.” I stop him, backing out of the room slowly. “I gotta get out of here.”
Cherry
THERE’S A PARK NEAR MY dad’s house. It’s old and run-down, like the rest of this sleepy town. Dad used to bring me and Sunnie here after Mom left. Sunnie would run and play with the other kids while I hid in the tunnel, crying. Not much has changed, except I don’t fit inside the damn thing anymore, so I settle for sitting on top of it.
Tears fall from my eyes like an April rain, daunting and endless. Pain like I’ve never felt stabs at my heart. What would I do without my dad? It’s a question I’ve never allowed myself to think before. Even when he was in the middle of his battle with his addiction, I’d never considered a world that he wasn’t a part of. He survived a battle with his own demons only for his immune system to turn on him.
Then there’s the lie. A lie of omission, but a lie nonetheless. How could he not tell me? My heart breaks thinking of him dealing with the news alone, being at the hospital alone, coming back to an empty house. I stare up at the sky, and my mind swirls with morbid, selfish thoughts. What about me? Who will I have if he…
I snap my eyes shut, not allowing myself to think it. Inhaling, I wrap my arms around myself and open my eyes on an exhale. Arden approaches, eyeing me as if I’m holding a lit fuse. She stops at the base of the slide and looks up at me. “How did you find me?” I ask, angrily swiping away the tears.
“Your dad said you might be here?” She shrugs. Her sky-blue eyes shine with sympathy.
“Don’t.” I lift my hand. “Don’t you dare tell me you’re sorry. Don’t you—” My voice cracks as grief slices through me.
“Cherry.” She holds her hands up in surrender. “I know this is hard for you, but how hard do you think it is for him?”
“I don’t care.”
“You don’t mean that.” She takes the stairs slowly, approaching me like you would a cornered animal. “I know it’s hard, and I know you’re hurting, but he needs you.”
I shake my head. “If that were true, he would have told me.”
Arden is at the opening of the tunnel. Her arm lifts and she reaches for me. “He’s human, Cherry. We aren’t perfect. He was dealing with it in the way he thought was best. It wasn’t a personal attack against you. He needed to process.”
“Yeah, well. This is me processing.”
“No, this is you running.”
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
“You’re right.” I suck in a deep breath and force the tears back long enough to do the one thing I know I shouldn’t.
I need to get high. I don’t need Cash. I don’t need my dad. I don’t need anyone. What I need is to forget. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scroll down and hit a number that I haven’t dialed in years. “Please, please, please,” I chant. I don’t even know if the number is any good, but I’m willing to take that risk.
“What are you doing?” Arden asks.
I lift a hand to silence her as the phone clicks. “Cherry?” Hearing his voice after so long does something to my nerve. When I called, I thought I’d use him to get high. To get numb. I didn’t count on all those old insecurities barreling their way back in. “Last time we spoke, I was pulling a yellow number two pencil out of my leg.”
“You deserved it,” I say, eyeing my best friend. Her hands are on her hips and she’s scowling at me, almost as if she knows. Like she senses the toxic shit I’m about to do. “Go home.” I mouth to her.
She shakes her head and leans up against the rail defiantly. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
Laughter wafts through my ear, reminding me of my plan. “I did, didn’t I?”
“You deserved worse, honestly, but I didn’t call you to rehash all that old shit,” I tell him. The wind blows through my hair, and I push a few strands from my eyes.
“Why did you call?” he asks, his tone is skeptical, but curious.
“It’s been a shitty day, and I was hoping you had something to help take the edge off.” Arden’s head snaps my way, but I ignore her. “Are you busy? I could meet you somewhere.”
He’s silent for a bit. Arden shoots daggers in my direction, but my mind is focused on one thing and one thing only. “Actually, today is my birthday.”
My eyes widen, and I look down at my phone screen and check the date. “Shit. Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. If I’m being honest, it’s a nice surprise, even if you were only calling so I could get you high. I’m glad you thought of me.”
“Yeah?” I don’t bother hiding the hope I feel.
“Yeah. I miss you more than I care to admit.”
I roll my eyes. Travis doesn’t miss me, he misses being worshipped blindly by a girl who didn’t have enough self-esteem to see the real him. But I’m desperate and I am a liar, and a shitty daughter, and a hypocrite, so I’m going to ignore the red flags and play along. “I miss you too.”
“Why don’t you come though. There’s plenty to drink and eat and smoke.”
“Yeah?” I swallow back the anticipation, desperate for the relief only a good high can bring, but I don’t want him to know that. Trav is a piranha, if he senses an easy mark, he’ll pounce. “At your place?”
“Yeah, but we are about to make a beer run, I can pick y
ou up?”
I hop off the tunnel. “I’m coming with you.” Arden insists.
“My friend is with me.” I sigh.
“Is she hot?”
I gag but play along. “Of course.”
“Then the more, the merrier.”
Music pumps from behind the old wooden gate. I inhale, hike my shorts up, and fluff out my hair. Arden pouts beside me—she’s been pouting since Travis came to pick us up in his Civic. It’s the same one he drove in high school. As soon as my ass hit the fabric seats and the familiar scent of motor oil mixed with marijuana filled my nostrils, I allowed my body to relax. He smoked us out on the way to the liquor store. Arden and I sat in the back seat while he and his friend went to get the keg. I could feel the judgment radiating off her the entire time, but I ignored it. Ten minutes with Trav and I couldn’t feel my face. I’d looked forward to spending the rest of the day numbing other parts of my body too.
We follow them to the backyard. Immediately, I spot a girl I recognize from our graduating class. She’s perched on a lawn chair, wearing bikini bottoms and a Paramore t-shirt. “Cherry?” she says, her eyes glazed over.
“Oh, hey!” I say. “I haven’t seen you since…” I trail off hoping she takes it upon herself to fill in the gap. High school Cherry was obsessed with two things, her boyfriend and her computer, which didn’t leave much time to make new friends, and I don’t have a clue what her name is.
“Mrs. Linderman’s eighth period English,” she finishes for me.
“God, that class was brutal,” I say, thankful for the memory. I still don’t recognize the girl, but Mrs. Linderman is hard to forget.
“Anyway, I’m heading out,” she says to Trav. “Happy birthday.”
“It will be.” He smirks, dropping one arm around me and his other around Arden. I should be grossed out, or angry or jealous at the insulation, but I don’t give a fuck. I miss Cash and I’m devastated over my dad. Quite frankly, there isn’t any room left on my heart for another tear.
Arden glares up at him. Trav is hot, objectively speaking. He looks like a younger, douchier Adam Levine. Skinny, tatted, with a perpetual I’m better than you grin. I guess I have a type and maybe if it weren’t for his history of cheating and emotional abuse, I’d probably be down for whatever he thinks is happening here. But I’ve learned you can’t change the past, moreover, I don’t want to. I’m here to forget the present.
The party is more of a kickback, which is disappointing. I was hoping for a rager, one where I could get high and get lost in the crowd, but with Trav eye fucking me every five seconds, getting lost doesn’t seem like a plausible option.
In all, there are about twenty people at the party, most of them in or around the water. A few are playing cornhole deeper in the yard, and I’d be willing to bet at least one couple snuck into the house for a quickie. It’s like I entered a time machine. Nothing’s changed here. Then again, isn’t that why I left Fairmont in the first place?
Arden shuffles out from under Trav’s arm around the same time I spy a half-empty bottle of Fireball, sitting on the sad refreshment table.
“I’m…too sober,” I tell them, ignoring Arden’s pointed stares.
Travis licks his lips. “I can fix that.” He grabs my arm and leads me through the house. I don’t bother to see if Arden follows. I told her to go back to the house but she’s stubborn. I’m not going to let her kill my buzz.
“Cherry, you came through!” Spike, one of Trav’s friends yells, jumping up from his seat on an old lawn chair. Unease skitters down my spine, but I’m not sure if it’s from the events of the day or the fact that I’m at this party with these near strangers, with the sole intent of getting high and numbing myself.
“I’m only here for the free booze and party favors.” I push on a bright smile to soften the sting of my words.
Spike drops an arm around my neck and ushers me to the couch. The girl he was sitting with shoots me a dirty look. “Never thought I’d see you here again.”
“I never thought I’d be here again,” I confess.
Trav pulls me from his friend and lifts me onto his lap. It feels weird after all these years and all the shit between us. My brain is telling me to abort this mission, but my body stays rooted in his arms. “We’re like magnets; Cherry and I will always find our way to each other.”
I look up at him. “I want to party.”
“Ah, yes. Come on.” He shuffles me a little to dig into his pocket and retrieves a bottle of pills. He crushes them, then arranges it into a line and hands me a dirty dollar bill. I roll it as tightly as possible and snort, inhaling the line. My nose burns, my throat burns, my morals burn. I promised myself I was done with this shit, but at the first sign of trouble, I’m right back to it.
The girl on my left, apparently much friendlier now that she knows I’m not after Spike, passes me the bowl and a lighter, and I figure, what the hell. I take a hit as Spike snorts another line and leans back on the couch.
My mind drifts to Cash, my dad, then Arden. She didn’t follow us inside so I wonder if she got the hint to head back to the house. I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, and although she means well, I could do without all the judgy glares.
After a while, the drugs do their job and I wander over to the bathroom. I pull out my phone and text Cash, which is probably not smart, but I do it anyway. I miss you.
It rings almost instantly. I hesitate, but I really do miss him. “Hey,” I breathe.
“What the fuck, Cherry.” I smile at his accent. It’s even more pronounced when he’s pissed. “Where are you?”
“At a party,” I say sadly, “in Fairmont.”
“Shit.” I can hear his car keys jiggling in his hand. The sound breaks my heart. I can always count on Cash. I’ve only known him a little over a month, but I know that if I told him to come here, if I said that I needed him, he’d be here. I know it just as sure as I know how to code, or the steakhouse menu, or the sound of my dad’s laugh.
We are silent for a beat, me fighting back tears, Cash struggling to rein in his anger. Finally, after what feels like a lifetime, he breaks his silence. “Why?”
“Why am I in Fairmont?” I ask, playing dumb, or numb. Maybe both.
“The note. What changed between last night and this morning?”
Nothing.
Everything.
“I have eggs that last longer than this relationship,” I say throwing the words he used to describe his time with Mrs. Walden back at him.
“Is that truly how you feel?”
No. I want to say that I feel gutted. That my dad has cancer and that I feel helpless. I want to tell him that I need him. That I love him. But I can’t bring myself to do it. Because there’s a girl wandering around this party full of strangers for me, and I can’t bring myself to hurt her.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel. The facts are the facts. You’re just too pussy whipped to see it.”
“So, we’re back to that? Big Bad Cherry Valentine, too fucked up to let anyone in.”
“Yup. We’re back to that. I shouldn’t have answered. I’m sorry,” I whisper and end the call. A bottle of Softsoap that looks like it’s seen better days sits on the counter. I pump two squirts of the clear liquid into my palm and rinse my hands under the warm water. Swiping my thumb under my eyes, I clean off the excess liner, press my lips together then head back out to the pool.
Arden is cross-legged on a chair, staring at her phone while some dude chats about baseball. I take the seat on her other side and her shoulders sag in relief. Travis plops down beside me, and I fight the wave of nausea threatening to bubble up. I’m high as a fucking 747, so pretending to be friendly is low on my priority list. I’d hoped when I saw him again, I’d be this mature and well-adjusted woman, but I’m not sure I’m much different than the girl who stabbed him in the first place.
“You sure you want to get that close?” I ask as he slides his chair closer to mine.
He laughs.
“Yeah, I mean, that’s kind of our thing, isn’t it? We fight, we fuck, and we get high, then the cycle repeats.” He runs a hand through his shaggy hair. He’s got the whole, tattooed-bad-boy thing down. He has more ink than the last time I saw him, but the same puppy dog eyes and pouty lips that I used to dedicate hours of my day to kissing.
“Toxic as fuck.” I try to inject as much venom in my tone as possible, but it falls flat. If I’m honest, I don’t really care. I just want Cash and for my dad to be okay.
He blinks. “That’s new.”
“What’s new?” I drawl, the pills swirling through my body. “You know what, I don’t care. Thanks for the Xans, but I’d really rather just be left alone.”
“There she is.” He grins and his stupid dimple pops out. “I almost thought someone lobotomized you. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like docile Cherry, but it’s a little boring.”
Arden snorts and mutters something that sounds a lot like, you call this boring under her breath. I kick her under the table, but instead of playing nice, she stands abruptly and stomps towards the other end of the yard.
“Your friend doesn’t like me much.”
“I don’t like you much,” I tell him.
He wipes imaginary tears from his eyes. “I know I fucked up, but it wasn’t all bad.”
I shoot an incredulous look his way. “It was literally all bad. Our whole relationship was toxic and obsessive. All we did was fight.”
“We did other stuff too.” Travis was my first everything. We had angry and aggressive sex that, at the time, I thought somehow meant he loved me. Turns out, he just liked to fuck me, and even that wasn’t enough to stop him from fucking my sister. “How long are you in town?” he asks.
“Just for the weekend, then I’m heading back to school.”
“We should hang and by hang, I mean bang.” He winks.
“You’re a real Casanova.”
“You know you miss us.”
Cherry Bomb (Brighton #1) Page 10