Crying Wolf by Eden Boudreau

Author:Eden Boudreau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Book*hug Press
Published: 2022-12-19T22:35:53+00:00

chapter 10

I’m no believer in god or fate or some mystical consciousness floating around and controlling the outcome of my life, but sometimes things happen that make you wonder if the universe has a sick sense of humour or just knows what’s good for you.

John had been MIA since the night in the park when I’d blown off his advances. He hadn’t shown up at Lakesides and wouldn’t return any of my texts. The absence of his company wasn’t as distressing as the abrupt cut-off of access to bad decisions. For the first week, I was desperate. Desperate enough to ask one of the bartenders if she had a hookup. Needless to say, I didn’t return after that. Luckily, the worst of the withdrawal ebbed fairly quickly, just short of my attempt to hunt down drugs in my very white, very uptight suburban neighbourhood. Although, if HBO and Mary-Louise Parker have taught me anything, it’s that I probably would have been successful.

Without the crutch of cocaine, I went back to consuming more whiskey and wine than a sailor on a cold winter morning in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. And with that consumption came the return of the hangovers, a short temper, and a rawness I hated.

Joe had slowly started dating again. Even though I reassured him repeatedly that it was okay, he seemed hesitant to jump back in. It felt like he was always walking on eggshells around me. Normally, this would have made me feel guilty, but now it just irritated me. I was sick to death of being treated like some bird with a broken wing. Fragile. Something people had to handle with care. And what was the appropriate response to this irritation? Pick a fight, of course.

* * *

“You’re not seriously going out again tonight, are you?”

Joe stood with his back to me as he spoke, concentrating more than normal as he dragged the razor over his jaw. I hated when he shaved his beard—his face instantly taking on a youth that, if I was being honest, made me jealous. It also reminded me of the boy he was when we’d met, still so full of resentment and anger. I preferred to see him as the man he was today. Matured, patient. Although that patience was fading more and more every day.

I ignored his question and changed the subject. “You know I hate when you do that. You look like a toddler.” I pulled my hair up into a tight bun and dabbed a little concealer under my eyes. The allure of getting dolled up, even for a night out, had lost of all its appeal. The last thing I wanted to do was attract attention, but the dark bags that had taken up residence under my eyes were virtually impossible to ignore. And negative attention wasn’t much better than its opposite.

“Good thing I’m not doing it for you.” He shook the razor under the running water and splashed a handful over his cheeks before turning off the faucet.

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