The Goon

by Sara Hubbard

  He strokes my shoulder, listening intently.

  “But helping you last night kind of sparked something inside of me. It felt amazing to help Mark get that goal. What if I were to do something like that after university? Not teach hockey, but maybe help kids?”

  “I think that’s great.”

  “I’m going to look into it. Maybe see what I need to take to be a counsellor or something like that.”

  “It’d suit you.”

  I laugh at him, then snuggle into him again as a sense of calm overtakes me. “Thanks, Michael. I’m just thinking out loud. Maybe it’s a bad idea. I’ve already wasted a year and a half at school.”

  “Don’t doubt yourself. If you want this, it’ll happen. I don’t see anything getting in your way when you set your mind to something.”

  “Like a dog with a bone,” I say. “My mom always says that about me.”

  “Determination and drive are necessary for success. You already got those down. You’re closer to what you want than you think.”

  I prop myself up on my elbow and kiss him. Another great thing about Michael, he always knows the right thing to say. I spend the next hour in bed with him before finally dragging my ass out of bed. He doesn’t have class until ten, so he drops me off at school. I have the same clothes on but Michael somehow managed to wash them last night while I slept. I have no idea when. I don’t remember him getting out of bed, and when I woke up, I was still partly on top of him.

  I go to my classes until lunch, meet up with Charlie for a bit, and then go to my department’s counsellor afterward. I don’t have an appointment so I wait for almost an hour. I’m shocked to find out I can be a child and youth care counsellor by taking a two-year diploma program. Then she tells me about other options, requiring degrees, like psychologists and social workers. She gives me a lot to think about and an awful lot of reading material.

  I’m reading some of it while sitting on the wall by the SUB when Charlie runs into me for the second time today. A gust of wind picks up and almost takes my scarf with it, but I snatch it and wrap it around me before securing it with a knot.

  “Let me see!” she says. I told her about what I was going to do when we met up earlier. I hand her some pamphlets, and she flips through them. “This is great, Em! You’d be great at this.”

  “I have a record, though. You have to submit to a background check to work with kids.” I show her the place where I read this.

  “You could get a pardon.”

  Sigh. “Maybe. I beat up a car with a baseball bat. I’m surprised they’re going to let me around kids at community service.”

  “Well…they’re lucky to have you.”

  “I find something I’m interested in, and I also find out I might not be able to do it.”

  “So that’s it?”

  I glower at her and then fight a smile. “Of course not.” She knows I don’t give in easily. I’ll find a way. Erikson’s written some pretty nice things about me on my weekly reports so, if anything, I have a great reference letter. And maybe getting a pardon won’t be so difficult.

  “I have faith in you,” she says.

  “You and Michael both.”

  “Speaking of Michael, how’s things?”

  I sigh and feel a little giddy. “Too good.”

  She shakes her head at me. “No such thing. He’s the real thing, Em.”

  “I know, but he still gets texts from Chloe. I’ve seen some of them. She thinks they have a connection because they both lost someone, but I don’t know if he texts her back.”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I’d rather he give me his phone so I can see for myself.”

  “Oh, no. Don’t do that. All that says is ‘I don’t trust you.’”

  But the truth is, I don’t. Not completely. I haven’t asked him about her, but he hasn’t volunteered anything, either. What if he called her back that time she texted last week? What if he texted her back the other day when she said she needed a friend and “someone who understood?” Ugh. I hate her. I’d kick her in the vag if I wouldn’t go to jail for it.

  “Has he given you any reason not to trust him?”

  I’m not answering because I don’t want to.

  She elbows me.

  Grrr. “No, but—”

  “Then give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  “Brad never gave me a reason either.” And I can tell by her silence she agrees.

  “Ozzie said he had his doubts about Brad. He’d heard some things about him around other girls at parties, but he never saw it himself.”

  I frown at her. That doesn’t help me any now. And it irritates me that Ozzie never said anything sooner. Bro code be damned.

  “I know, I know. He didn’t say anything because he wasn’t sure. As for Michael? He was devoted to Chloe, and I know you don’t want to hear that. He has every reason to distrust you like you do him, but he trusts you anyway. Maybe you should do the same.”

  I hate when she’s right. And I know she is. Though it doesn’t make it easier. I have to ask myself, what will it take? The answer is obvious, but it’s not ideal. If I ask him, he can deny it and I might not believe him anyway. I want his phone. It’s the only thing that’ll satisfy me. But it might push him away instead. Is it worth it? No. But can I get over my trust issues without it? Maybe it is worth it.

  Charlie sits with me for a while as she does an assignment. It’s warmer today than it has been in days, and the sun shines in a cloudless sky. I lean back, weight on my hands, and stare up at it with my eyes closed. When Charlie leaves, I stay a while longer. Then I people watch. Sometimes it’s fun to do that. Unless the people you watch turn out to be heinous cows. Like Chloe.

  I pray she doesn’t come my way, but she’s too cocky to go away. She has to come and ruin my day.

  “Hi, Emily.”

  I groan at her, obviously so.

  She has the nerve to sit next to me. I shake my head and gather my things.

  “Child and Youth Counsellor at Preserver College. Huh. Does that mean you’re dropping out?”

  “Eat a dick, Chloe. Oh wait! You already have. My ex boyfriend’s.”

  “Like I told Michael, it wasn’t me.”

  “Right.” I grab my heavy book bag and toss it over my shoulder. “So I guess I can add liar to the list of your most notable qualities.”

  “Ask Brad. He’ll even tell you it wasn’t me. It was some random chick he picked up in a bar. They had sex in a bathroom stall, and he wanted to take the party back to his place.”

  “You’re so full of shit. Don’t you care how many people you’ve hurt?”

  She plucks her phone out of her bag and scrolls. I don’t have time for this, and I start to walk away. “Here!” she calls at my back. “Have a look.” She gets up and approaches me. I don’t even know why I’m entertaining her foolishness. I glance at the image and then I do a double take. I snatch her phone.

  “Hey!” she says, but she doesn’t reach for it. No, she wants me to soak this in.

  My heart pounds so hard I can hear it booming in my ears. My palms sweat so much I almost drop her phone. An image of Chloe standing beside a girl who could be her double hits me like a hammer to the face.

  “I went to that bar after I talked to Brad. Hung out there more nights than I care to admit. Just to prove you wrong. To prove you ruined what Michael and I had because you wanted him for yourself. That’s the girl your boyfriend was fucking. Not me.”

  I drop the phone and she dives to catch it.

  “Who is she?” I ask quietly.

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. Some girl that lives around here. She works at the mall, and she also happens to love jocks.”

  “This is a lie. It looks like she’s posing with you.”

  “Some girls will do anything for twenty dollars. They might even do your boyfriend.”

  I can’t form words right now. It doesn’t matter who Brad was with anymore. But him not being with Chloe? Th
at matters very much.

  “I’ll take my apology now,” she says. “And you can go tell my boyfriend that you’re wrong and you ruined something good because you’re a selfish cunt who’d rather take someone down with her than suffer alone.”

  I swear to God the world around me starts to spin. The lights start to fade. Before I can pass out, I start running, and I have no intention of ever, ever stopping.

  Chapter 23

  The park bench I sit on is so cold it’s making my ass numb. I lean back and look up at the dark night sky. With arms folded over my middle, I sniff, and when I feel my nose running I reach up to wipe it away with my sleeve. I don’t like to cry. It makes me feel weak and vulnerable. And also completely wretched. Some people say, “Have a good cry and you’ll feel better,” but in my opinion, that’s bullshit. I just feel worse. Crying isn’t going to fix the situation I created. Getting honest is, but I’m so afraid of what will unfold once I do that I’m hiding in the park a few miles from school.

  My phone keeps ringing and beeping. I have four voicemails and eight texts, most of them from Michael. He wants to know what’s wrong. He’s worried. His messages serve to make me feel worse. What will he do when I tell him the truth? Will he go back to Chloe and give her another chance because she did nothing wrong? That I know of. The cow probably still cheated on him, just not with Brad. Not that I have proof of that. Will he choose me? Or blame me for hurting someone he had a connection with?

  The next time my phone rings, I pull it out and look at the display. This time it’s Charlie. I don’t want to explain to her either, but it’s fucking cold, and I don’t want to walk home. And I’d murder her if she made me worry while ignoring my calls.

  “Hey.”

  “Where the hell are you? Michael’s called us twice. He’s worried, and since you didn’t answer my texts, I was starting to worry, too. Are you okay? Did something happen?”

  I don’t remember ever sobbing in front of another soul before. Not even as a little girl. My mother was always a strong woman who would tell me to “suck it up” and hold my head up high. She frowned upon crying. She saw it as a weakness, so it’s natural I see it like that, too. But only in me. I find myself jealous of people who are confident enough to let tears fly unashamedly.

  “Oh, Emily, what happened?”

  “Can you—come—get me?” I say between sobs.

  “Of course. Where are you?”

  She’s familiar with the park, and she hangs up quickly. The last thing she says to me is, “Hang on. I’m leaving right now.” It starts to rain when I hang up the phone. Just a little drizzle, enough for me to curse the sky for kicking me when I’m down.

  Charlie arrives in Ozzie’s Jeep about ten minutes later. She pulls over to the bench and jumps out, hurrying over to me. By now, I’ve dried my eyes and I’m sitting quietly. Resolved. I know what I have to do, and it isn’t going to be easy. Admitting fault always sucks.

  After Charlie sits on the bench, she pulls me into a hug, and I lean against her, putting my head on her shoulder. “I fucked up,” I say.

  “It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”

  “No, I don’t think so. I really fucked up.”

  She helps me to my feet. I’ve been sitting so long my knees don’t want to straighten. I hobble to the car like an old lady suffering from arthritis. She helps me inside and runs around the front to get in. Once inside, she turns on the heat. It hits me in the face and the cushion under my ass starts to warm. I lean back and let the heaters work their magic. They fix me on the outside, but inside? I’m a fucking mess.

  Charlie doesn’t ask me where I want to go. She takes me back to her place. She doesn’t ask questions while she drives. She keeps looking my way, making sure I’m okay. I guess she thinks I’ll tell her in my own time, and I swear I’m getting to it. We near her apartment when I finally start to tell her.

  “Chloe wasn’t with Brad.”

  She snaps her head in my direction like I’ve slapped her. Her mouth drops, and her lips form a perfect O. Still, she says nothing.

  “He cheated on me, yes, but not with her.”

  She pulls into the parking lot and slowly moves over the blacktop until she finds her spot, number three-fourteen. Then she turns the car off and takes a breath. “But you saw her.”

  “I did,” I say, quietly. “I thought I did. But it wasn’t her. I told Michael about her, ruined his relationship and hurt him, for nothing. He beat up Brad…for nothing. He cared for someone and cast her aside…for nothing. And it’s all my fault.”

  “I don’t understand. You were so sure.”

  “Chloe confronted me at a party, and she was so convincing I almost believed her. If I hadn’t seen her myself...”

  “But you didn’t?”

  I shake my head and turn to face Charlie. I tell her about the girl Chloe searched for and, ultimately, found. I tell her about the picture. “The girl was a few inches shorter and her teeth were crooked. Her hair was a couple shades lighter, but they could have passed for twins.” They say everyone has a twin in the world somewhere. What were the chances that Chloe’s would live in the same small town in Nova Scotia? My voice breaks when I say, “I was wrong, and he’s not going to forgive me. Chloe will convince him I did this on purpose. And she’s not the liar. I’m the one who got it wrong. Why would he believe me?” I swallow the hard lump in my throat, but it won’t go down. It’s like a golf-sized ball, and it makes it hard for me breathe. “I was starting to believe this relationship might last. I let my guard down, Charlie, and I was ready to go all in. Like never before.”

  Charlie takes my hand, and we sit in that car for a while. The dash lights fade, and the radio clicks off so I can’t be sure how long. Maybe a half hour? An hour? It doesn’t matter.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “What can I do? Tell him the truth. After everything that’s happened, he won’t believe her. But he’ll believe me…until he doesn’t.”

  “Don’t be so quick to assume, Em. He’s so into you.”

  “But he doesn’t love me. He loved her, and I ruined their relationship.”

  “But it’s not like you did it on purpose.”

  “That’s not what she’ll tell him.”

  Charlie shocks me when she says, “Fuck her!”

  I force a smile.

  “She might not have been with Brad, but who’s to say she wasn’t with anyone else?” Charlie adds. “Ozzie heard she hooked up with some professor when Michael was at a game in Windsor. She’s no victim.”

  “What if she is?”

  The question hangs in the air like a thick fog, and as it settles, we sit together hand in hand. When the temperature inside the car falls, Charlie finally encourages me get out. I trudge to her apartment with my elbow hooked with hers.

  Before all of this, I would have agreed with her that Chloe was a cheater. Now I’m not sure. Maybe she’s misunderstood. How can I possibly call her out when I have no proof? After what I did? I honestly can’t. I still hate the cow, though. And I’ll hate her even more if Michael takes her back. I might even make a voodoo doll with her face on it. They don’t really work, but it sure might make me feel better.

  Ozzie greets us at the door. He notices me first, giving me a once over. “Jesus. What happened to you?”

  “I’ve had better days.”

  “I can see that.”

  Charlie smacks him in the gut.

  “Sorry, I’m just…I…”

  “Can you make us some really strong black coffee?” she asks.

  “Emily style?”

  I grimace at him.

  He grunts a chuckle. “Just trying to make you laugh.”

  “If it was any other day, I would have. Just not today.”

  “I’ll get the coffee.” He turns away and marches into the kitchen, calling out over his shoulder. “Michael called again. Should I tell him to come over or to fuck off?”

  Charlie glances at me.

  �
�No. I don’t want to see him. Not yet.”

  While Ozzie makes coffee, Charlie putters. She gets a big fleece blanket and covers me with it. When the coffee is done, she hands it to me in a pink mug with a white sheep on it. The smell is so strong I could get high off it. It’s perfect.

  “Thank you,” I say, holding it tightly in my hands.

  Ozzie lingers by the partition between the living room and kitchen. He chews on his lip, watching us. He wants to know what’s going on, and Charlie can tell him whatever she likes, but I don’t want to talk about it anymore. Besides, he’ll have an opinion about it, and I don’t want to know what that is. I already know I fucked up. I don’t need anyone else to tell me that. The only one I’m willing to hear it from is Michael. He has that right.

  “I can’t put him off forever,” Ozzie says quietly. “If Charlie was like this, I’d be at the front door right now.”

  “Um,” Charlie says, looking back and forth between us.

  “You can tell him. It’s okay. I just don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

  “Give me a minute.” Charlie and Ozzie leave the room, and a door quietly closes. I assume it’s her bedroom. It’s a weird feeling to have people leave the room to obviously talk about you. Then again, it’s not like it’s behind my back. I know what they’re saying. At least I don’t have to face him if he thinks badly of me.

  I know he didn’t really like Chloe, so maybe I’m wrong. But then…maybe I’m not.

  I lean back against the plush cushions on the sofa and close my eyes. My phone goes off again and, like a coward, I ignore it. Soon after, Charlie and Ozzie come back out. He’s itching to say something. I can read it in his eyes and the way he chews on his lip. He’s almost biting it off.

  “Just say it.” I stare at him, steeling myself.

  “Secrets and lies are poison,” he says.

  Charlie and I glare at him, and he rolls his eyes. “You know you’re going to tell him, so just do it already. It can’t be worse than sitting here stressing about it. Call him, tell him to come over, and spill.”

  “Leave her alone, Ozzie. Let her do it in her own time.”

  I touch her arm. “It’s okay, Charlie. He’s right. It’ll be worse if I wait.” I look over at Ozzie, frowning. “You think he’ll forgive me?”