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But then neither did I. Anger and longing mixed in a volatile cocktail. All I knew for sure was that loneliness was in my future.
DEBBIE: Tempted to go back to him and make up?
She’d figured out my options pretty quickly.
DEBBIE: Don’t fall into the make-up sex trap. It will only make leaving tomorrow harder.
There was no way I could make up with a man who wouldn’t trust me. That was the real trap.
ME: If I did, hate sex would be more like it
DEBBIE: Still a trap that will make leaving harder than it should be. What was your goal when you started this trip?
She knew that as well as I did.
ME: To escape the dragon
DEBBIE: Remember that.
There would be no making up with Boone. I had to let go of the emotional lifeline I’d expected him to provide over the phone after I arrived in Florida. My texts with the girls would have to suffice.
My occasional phone conversations with Mom since she’d moved away had always been short, and had never involved Kevin. Would she be able to relate if I came clean about my situation with him? Doubtful.
I’d never even talked to my two half-brothers she had with her new husband. Two young boys named Aaron and Charlie was all I knew, and their ages wouldn’t make them anyone I could talk to or who could relate to my issues.
I’d be alone in my struggle.
DEBBIE: You still there?
ME: Just thinking about tomorrow. Thanks for everything. Signing off now
It was good Laurie hadn’t been on tonight. She’d have insisted I drive back to Boone’s place for hot hate sex.
With an uncomfortable throbbing between my legs at that thought, I stood to search for Pris’s wine stash. A little something to take the edge off sounded good. I turned the phone off. Messages from Laurie could wait until tomorrow, and if Boone wanted to call and insult me again or something, he could do it via voicemail. That way I could flip him off while cruising the interstate.
Wine was nowhere to be found, but there were two bottles of tequila. No surprise there.
CHAPTER36
Angela
Tequila bottle in hand,I slumped into the loveseat. The stupid bare-bulb overhead light was too bright for my taste, so I switched it off and turned on the table lamp. The burn of the liquor going down was a welcome relief. It distracted me from the hollowness in my chest. But two glasses into my take-the-edge-off mission, the question hit me:
Why didn’t I feel relieved?
I was leaving tomorrow for Mom’s, and that would complete my escape. Once down there, with my name changed, I’d be forever free of Kevin. I should look at this interlude in Clear Lake the way Debbie did, as a pleasant rebound distraction with Boone to bookend my escape from Kevin and start of my new life in Florida.
The sex had been fantastic. I should focus on that, see the good, enjoy the distraction, and celebrate my soon-to-be free-of-Kevin status.
So why wasn’t I? Why had walking away from Boone left me both angry and empty?
I held up the tequila bottle and stared at the label—Jose Cuervo. Pouring another glass, I said, “So, Jose, you wanna know what Laurie told me about drinking?” This one didn’t burn as much going down. “She says a lot of people find wisdom in a bottle. Are you one of those bottles?”
Closing my eyes and listening real hard, I didn’t hear an answer. “Okay, Jose,” I said. “Let’s try this one. What are your feelings on hate sex versus make-up sex?”
Once again, I didn’t hear anything, so I poured another and knocked back half of it. “Jose, I can see why Pris is sweet on you.” I laughed. “Sweet, get it? Okay louder this time. What do you think about trying hate sex?”
I held up the bottle, and it swayed like it was nodding. “That’s a yes.” It took two swallows, but I downed the rest of the glass.
