Sweet Nothing

by Jamie McGuire

  I sat up and looked at the clock. Both hands were on the eleven. I looked at the hutch again and then pulled out my phone, dialing Avery’s number. It rang several times before her voicemail picked up. “Please call me back. I don’t wanna fight, I just want to … I’d like to at least apologize. You can do whatever you want with it.”

  I hung up and looked at my watch for the dozenth time since she’d left. She wasn’t at work. There were very few places she could be at that time of night.

  I grabbed my wallet and headed down to Corner Hole. She wasn’t going to call me back, and I couldn’t sit around and wait. After she heard what I had to say, I would give her some space, if that’s what she wanted, but I couldn’t walk away from us.

  I shoved my hands deep into my jeans pockets to protect them from the crisp air, thankful for the oversize Adidas hoodie Avery loved to claim as hers on cold nights.

  I hurried down the block to my car and drove straight to the bar. The door opened and closed, letting in the cold night air. The radiator rattled, struggling to keep up. I scanned the crowd, looking for a head full of long, honey-blonde hair, recalling the first night I’d seen her there. After several minutes and no sign of her, I sat at the edge of the bar and ordered a double Jack Daniels.

  “You look sad,” Ginger said. “You sure?”

  I hesitated and then waved her over. “It’s cold as fuck in here. Keep them coming.” The bar wasn’t that busy, but at least I was around other people. The last thing I wanted was to be alone.

  I drank my shots, thanking Ginger for her generous hand as she poured. She leaned forward, pressing her ample breasts against the bar as she asked me what was wrong. I averted my gaze, assuring her everything was just the way it was supposed to be. The luck of my shiny penny had worn off. I pressed my palm against my chest, feeling the cold of the metal against my skin, keeping her close to my heart.

  I ordered another round for myself and retrieved my phone from my pocket, dialing Avery’s number again.

  I drank down one shot while I listened to her chipper voicemail greeting.

  You’ve reached Avery Jacobs. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll get back to you.

  After the beep, I began to ramble. “Baby, I know you’re mad at me. I deserve it, okay? I deserve for you to yell at me and be pissed, and even for you to throw your necklace at me, but I don’t deserve to get dumped. I’m a fuckup, but I can fix this. It’s what I do.” I rubbed the heel of my hand against my eye before tipping the next shot glass to my lips.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself, sweetheart,” Ginger said as she shook her head and refilled my glasses.

  “Bending over like that won’t get you a bigger tip,” I joked, my words sounding like my tongue was swollen against the roof of my mouth. I nodded a thanks to her and picked up another one and a half ounces of Jack, draining the contents down my throat. My heart sank as the liquor began to weigh heavily in my veins, slowing my entire thought process. “I love you, Avery. I don’t think you understand what it means when I say that to you, but I do.” I clicked to end the call, knowing that as the alcohol slowly took hold I would probably only upset her more.

  I drank a third shot and peeled off my sweatshirt, feeling overheated in the small crowd. I tossed it on the bar, and Ginger rolled her eyes as she took it and hung it on a hook behind her.

  “What did you do to that poor girl?” she asked as she set a tall glass filled with water in front of me.

  “What’s with this shit?” I asked as I pushed it away in disgust, ignoring her question.

  “You need to slow it down. There’s no way in hell I’m carrying you out of here.”

  “Just throw me away with the trash,” I mumbled, feeling sorry for myself. I could have just as easily defaulted to anger, but I was the only one to blame for my situation.

  Ginger shook her head, filling another shot glass. She held out her hand. “Keys.”

  “What?” I said, wrinkling my nose.

  “Keys,” she said, this time more firm. I dug into my pocket and pulled out thirteen cents, a piece of lint, and my car keys. She took them, and I lifted the tiny glass in thanks before tipping it back.

  The night crawled along minute by painful minute with no sign of my girlfriend. I was set to wander out in the freezing cold just after midnight when a smug Doc Rose walked in.

  I watched him chat up a few other men who were also stupidly overdressed for a hole-in-the-wall bar. They must have been doctors, too. He waved to them and then sat on a stool at the opposite end of the bar, checking his watch, as if he were waiting for someone.

  Part of me hoped it was Avery he was waiting for; the other hoped to God it wasn’t, worried what I’d do if it was.

  “You okay?” Ginger asked.

  “If Avery walks in and sits next to that puke,” I said, holding myself up by the elbow. “Get me out of here before I kill him.”

  “You think he’s here for her?” she asked, staring at Doc Rose.

  “I’ve got all night, so I guess we’ll find out. Pour me another one.”

  “Josh—”

  “I said pour me another one.”

  She shook her head, placing an empty glass in front of me.

  I spent the evening drowning in guilt and then being mad about it. I shouldn’t feel bad. I was right. He shouldn’t have confronted Dr. Rosenberg. I’m an adult. I could have handled it! What the hell was he thinking?

  But I hadn’t handled it. Josh had told me a dozen times my friendship with the doctor bothered him. I should have addressed it. But Josh had made his choice. This was my career he was messing with. How could I look Dr. Rosenberg in the eyes and tell him I’m still with the crazy guy who threatened him over nothing?

  I washed the three dishes in my sink and then went to JayWok. After looking at the menu, I decided I wasn’t hungry and walked back, stomped up the stairs, and slammed my door behind me. I crossed my arms in a huff, wishing I didn’t have the day off.

  The look in his eyes fractured my heart. Being alone in my apartment, looking at my former spare pillow that was supposed to belong to Josh, I was an emotional mess.

  My phone rang, and I picked it up, unable to answer it fast enough.

  “Deb?” I said, my eyes instantly filling with tears.

  “The hell, Avery?”

  I sighed. Josh must have already called Quinn.

  “I could have handled the situation better,” I admitted. “I could have discussed it with him instead of acting like a spoiled soap opera wife. I mean … good God, handing back the necklace and stomping out? I am supposed to be the reasonable one, and he kept saying practical things like we love each other and I couldn’t just end things. He was right, but he was fucking wrong!”

  “Yep.”

  I paused, surprised. “Yep? That’s all you have to say?”

  “Avery, keep venting. You’re not done.”

  My bottom lip trembled. “I shouldn’t have handed him back the necklace. That was overdramatic. That was cruel.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Uh-huh I’m cruel, or uh-huh you’re acknowledging that you’re listening?”

  “The latter.”

  “So, I screwed up. But a jealous toddler tantrum?” I said, pacing. “We are too old for that. He confronted Dr. Rosenberg! That was fucking insane!” I tripped over the edge of the rug and then kicked at the rolled up corner. “I went there thinking we were going to make a mutual decision to take a step back and slow things down, but the next thing I know, I’m breaking up with him! I broke up with him, but I still love him. What do I do?”

  “Um … get back with him? He still loves you,” she said, sounding bored. “He sounded like he was a fucking mess when he called Quinn. All you have to do is forgive him and he’ll learn his lesson and you can keep being gloriously happy.”

  I stuttered. “Is it that easy? I mean … people just do that?”

  “Yep.”

  I thought for a moment, lo
oking around the room at my empty walls and pillow-less couch and curtain-less windows. Josh’s pillow was my favorite thing in the apartment. There was a reason for it. I’d made my point—albeit rather dramatically. Couples fought and made up all the time. We could, too. Maybe.

  “He made his bed,” Deb said. “You should lay in it.”

  I raked my hair back, flustered. “Would you date a guy like Josh? Who did what he did?”

  “Fell in love with a girl and freaked the first time someone threatened to steal her? Oh yeah.”

  “Deb,” Quinn said, sounding sleepy in the background.

  “You okay?” Deb asked. “Say the word, and I’ll be over. Quinn snores, anyway.”

  “No,” I said, sniffing. I looked out the window at the green beast parallel parked in the street in front of my building. “I’m going to find him.”

  We hung up, and I put on my navy-blue puffy coat and boots. I grabbed the keys with the heart key ring Josh had bought for me and a scarf, wrapping it around my neck while I jogged down the stairs.

  I passed my car and shoved my hands in my pockets, watching my breath puff out in front of me while I walked the three blocks to Josh’s building. His car wasn’t there, but I buzzed him anyway and waited. He didn’t answer.

  I waited on the porch until my teeth began to chatter, and then started down the steps.

  “Hey, Avery,” Cinda said, passing by. “Did you lose your key?”

  I cringed. “Gave it back.”

  “Oh,” she said, glancing back to his empty parking space. “I don’t think he’s home.”

  “Do you know where he went? You don’t have to tell me.”

  “I know Josh, and if you gave back your key, I’m sure he’s not happy about it. He probably said something stupid, am I right?”

  I shrugged. “We both said something stupid.”

  She smiled. “I bet he’d want me to tell you where he is.” She pulled her mouth to the side. “But I don’t know. I’m sorry. You can come in and wait at my place until he gets home.”

  “That’s okay. Thanks, Cinda.”

  I trotted down the stairs, running all the way to my parking spot.

  The Dodge growled to life when I twisted the ignition, and I pulled away from the curb, turning toward St. Ann’s. Corner Hole was just a half-mile from the hospital, and that was the only place I could think Josh would be if he wasn’t home or at Quinn’s.

  The Dodge grumbled before I killed the ignition and lights. There were only a few cars left in parking lot, including Josh’s. I was suddenly nervous.

  What are you doing, Avery?

  I looked forward and pulled on the lever. I loved him, and we were going to have to weather some bullshit. We all had garbage to pack away. I couldn’t expect Josh to do a one-eighty and maintain perfection at all times to boot. That wasn’t fair.

  Gravel crunched under my boots as I walked toward the brick veneer of Corner Hole. A fluffy white flake fell on my nose, and I looked up, seeing a million matching pieces of frozen sky pouring from the black above. I closed my eyes and smiled, hoping Josh would come outside with me so we could share our first real snowfall together.

  I pulled open the door and walked in, smelling stale beer and cigarette smoke. The golden glow of the jukebox in the corner was the main source of light besides the lights strung above the bar. I smiled, thinking of the night Josh had made me stop hating Christmas.

  Only a few men were sitting at the bar, none of them Josh. I sat on the middle stool, watching a new bartender washing a glass with a white cloth. He walked over to me, his pecs flexing under his tight black V-neck. His eyebrows were perfectly manicured, so when he leaned over, pretending to flirt, I didn’t take him seriously.

  “You’re new,” I said.

  “Yes.”

  “Avery.”

  He smiled. “Oh, you’re Avery. Happy birthday.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Thanks.”

  “Jesse,” he said.

  I placed a twenty-dollar bill flat on the counter. “Here’s your tip. I just want a Diet Coke.”

  “Keep ’em coming?” he said with a smirk.

  “Just the Coke, please. Oh, and …” My words trailed off when I noticed my favorite soft hoodie hanging from a hook behind the bar. At first, I sat up taller and looked around with a ridiculous smile, but it disappeared when I saw Michaels stumble out of the men’s bathroom, her lipstick smeared, her hair disheveled, tugging at her slutty skirt. She glanced around, wiping the sides of her mouth with the back of her hand.

  I focused on the hoodie and then Michaels as my stomach twisted. “He wouldn’t,” I mumbled under my breath. The door opened again, and I froze. “Oh, fuck.” My mouth fell open. Relief and then disgust washed over me in waves.

  Dr. Rosenberg tried to seem nonchalant as he made his way across the bar, his cheeks flushed and his fly down.

  “Avery,” he said, stumbling to a stop. He smelled like whiskey and bad choices. “I didn’t think you came here anymore.”

  “Looking for Josh.” I leaned away from him a tiny bit, unable to hide my revulsion. I looked away, hoping Josh would walk in at any moment and save me. He had been right about Dr. Rosenberg all along. Just because the doctor had a family didn’t automatically make him a good man. Josh didn’t try to hide his conquests, and the whole of St. Ann’s thought he was a player, an asshole. The real snake was the beautiful doctor with the wedding ring and the house in Alapocas.

  “Avery?”

  “What?” I snapped.

  Dr. Rosenberg had the gall to act surprised. “Is something wrong?”

  I looked down at his open fly, and then away. “No.”

  “If you’re looking for Josh, he’s upstairs.”

  “Upstairs?”

  “With Ginger. He’s drunk.” He eyed the lights hanging from the ceiling. “Drunk doesn’t adequately describe his state, actually. I tried to warn you about him.”

  “Why would he be upstairs with Ginger?” He was a liar, and liars lie. I had already made one mistake by believing him. I wasn’t about to fall for it again.

  He shrugged. “She lives above the bar.”

  “Ugh. You would know. Zip up your pants and go home to your wife.”

  Dr. Rosenberg stiffened and then looked down, quickly pulling up his zipper and then making a beeline for the door.

  Jesse used his soda gun to fill my glass, pretending he hadn’t overheard our conversation.

  “Where’s Ginger?” I asked.

  “Upstairs,” Jesse said.

  I nodded, wondering if I really wanted to ask my next question. “Is she alone?”

  “Tell her, Jessepoo,” Michaels said, crawling onto the stool next to me.

  I recoiled and then groaned in frustration. “For fuck’s sake, can this day get any worse?”

  “Josh is up there. I was trying to take him home, but he wasn’t having it,” she said with no shame, slurring her words.

  I snarled my lip, leaning back so she couldn’t breathe in my face.

  “Ask him,” Michaels said, her drunken eyes slowly looking to the bartender.

  Jesse shook his head. “Don’t put me in the middle. I need this job.”

  I placed both palms on the bar, pressing my lips together in a hard line. “Jesse. You would want to know if you were me, wouldn’t you?”

  Jesse looked up at me from under his long lashes and then shrugged one shoulder in concession.

  “Is he up there with her?” I demanded.

  Jesse wiped the counter with a rag in a large circle, trying to keep the guilty look off his face. That was all the answer I needed to know. I nodded once and then stood, my knees feeling like they may buckle under the weight of his silent confession.

  “Don’t take it personal, honey,” Michaels said. “If it makes you feel better, he wasn’t interested in anyone until he could barely walk.”

  Jesse reached across the bar. “He wasn’t interested in anyone at all. He asked for you at least a
dozen times the first twenty minutes of my shift. I think he’s probably up there passed out. No man can get it up when he’s that wasted. If he’s not unconscious, he’s vomiting. Either way, he’s not doing what you think he’s doing.”

  My head fell. “So, what? I go home and hope he’s not fucking her brains out?”

  “If I were you,” Michaels said, swaying on her stool.

  “Careful,” Jess said, pointing at her.

  She waved him away. “If I were you, I’d go up there. But it’s the hair,” she said, pointing at the orange frizz piled on her head. “We do crazy shit like that.”

  “If I were you, I’d close my legs for five minutes and invest in a decent bra,” I mumbled under my breath.

  I left poor Jesse with Michaels and then passed the bar, pulling on a wide brown door.

  “That’s storage,” Jesse said. He gestured to a gray door in the back next to the jukebox, painted to blend in with the wall. “That’s hers. Knock, please, and don’t cause a scene.”

  “Thanks, Jesse.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said, pouring another drink for Michaels.

  My feet moved slowly. Every step grew more difficult the closer I came to Ginger’s door. I opened it between songs, making the creaking of the hinges seem amplified. Before me were twenty or so dusty stairs, at the top another door. I climbed quietly, although I wasn’t sure why. If he was mid-thrust, I certainly didn’t want to catch them in the act. My stomach roiled at the thought of someone else beneath him.

  When I reached the door, I knocked—quietly at first—and then again. I used the side of my hand to knock the third time, and then I could hear rustling around.

  “Ginger,” I heard Josh groan. “Ginger! There’s someone at your fucking door!”

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat, already feeling tears well in my eyes. I knocked again, and then Josh’s feet stomped across the room. The door swung open, and he blanched.

  “Avery,” he said, his bloodshot eyes wide. He was in a T-shirt and boxer briefs, as if he’d made himself right at home.

  “I just, um …” My words caught in my throat. “Wanted to see for myself.”