Page 41 of Angels Fall

NEXT TIME just come INSIDE ME.

Fuck, fucking yeah.

I look around to see if anyone is nearby and if we—unknown to us at the time—have been giving away a free Vegas show, and see no one. Except…

I look up and in the window above the club, looking down onto the alley, stands Pete. Coffee mug and bagel in hand.

He takes a bite of his bagel, a sip of his coffee, and then shakes his head back and forth at me, slowly, like he’s not quite sure what the fuck to do with me.

I smile at him, raise both arms out to the sides, palms up, and, bloody, sleep-deprived, and still rocking a bit of an erection, I raise my left eyebrow, and shrug.

Chapter Nine - Maddie

You know how it is when you’re one of those hard-ass bitches? And you put on that hard-ass show for everyone? Like… you can take anything. Any. Thing. Nothing phases you. You just stare adversity in the face and deal. Climb that fuckin’ mountain and get to the top no matter what. Fuck your fingertips. Fuck frostbite. Fuck everything. As long as you get to the top. That’s the only thing that matters.

And everyone thinks, Damn, that bitch is fuckin’ hard.

And you are. So goddamned hard. You handle all of it. You’re even one of those women who can have an actual casual relationship, right? You want no strings, dude? Just some straight-up sex? I’m your girl.

I don’t do feelings. I don’t get needy. I don’t expect much from people because people let you down. They don’t answer your calls, or your letters, or show up for funerals. And then they go on with their lives and pretend this is just normal, everyday bad luck. Shit happens, right? Life goes on no matter what. Those seconds tick off, and time passes, and they say that heals you, but it doesn’t. It didn’t heal me. It made everything worse and then they come back into your life acting like they never left, and you should just let them be there for you, and you’re like… “FUCK!”

I punch the steering wheel as I scream the word.

Because that’s not who I am right now. Because I’m crying. Because the tears are streaming down my cheeks. Because I don’t even know why I’m reacting this way.

It’s not the money I don’t owe Carlos, either. It’s not that stupid asshole, Logan. It’s not any of those major things that could actually end up killing me.

It’s Scotty, but it’s not Scotty. It’s Tyler, but it’s not Tyler. It’s Pete’s and it’s not Pete’s. It’s my parents being so far away, but not.

There is no answer that satisfies me right now. God herself could float down here into the passenger seat of Annie’s car and give me the fuckin’ answer and it wouldn’t be the answer. That’s how elusive my sadness is.

And the longer I drive, and the more I search for the meaning of my unhappiness, the farther away the answer gets.

The tears are so big, my eyes so filled up with them, the world so blurry with this unexpected sadness, I pull into an abandoned strip mall parking lot and stop the car.

To cry. Over things I don’t understand. Over people. Over jobs. Over failures. Over mistakes and… still, it doesn’t seem right.

The next thing I know I’m holding Plumeria Brown’s card in my hand. And then I’m pressing her number into my phone and she says, “Hello?”

“Plu?” I say, sobbing.

“Who—”

“It’s Maddie,” I say, still crying. “Maddie Clayton. Remember? I came—”

“Of course,” she says. “Of course. Are you OK?”

I shake my head no, but she can’t see me, obviously, so she says, “Where are you?”

I look up trying to figure it out, because I have lost all sense of time, and direction, and myself. “I don’t know.”

“Are you safe?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “Yes. I just… don’t understand why people are assholes, OK? Can you please tell me why people are such assholes?”

“Who’s an asshole?” she asks.

I want to say, Tyler. And Carlos. And Logan. And maybe even my parents. I want to blame all of them for this ugly breakdown moment I’m having right now.