Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63282 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 316(@200wpm)___ 253(@250wpm)___ 211(@300wpm)
“Sarah, do you want help with that?” Luca asks, pointing at the plastic bags.
I shake my head and continue on my way.
“Ha! You think she’s going to listen to you? She knows what you are now, because I told her,” Mom says triumphantly, her purplish lips curving up into a grin that exposes her yellow teeth.
“Mom, why are you here?” I ask.
I’m tired and the last thing I need is more drama, but the way Mom’s dancing on Luca’s suffering just rubs me the wrong way.
Somehow, even though Mom’s right this time and Luca turns out to be a lying thief, I can’t shake my dislike of her, or my fondness of Luca.
“I was told by someone that our friend here has been living in his car,” Mom says casually. “So I came here to check up on him. I didn’t expect it to rain this hard.”
“How nice of you,” Luca says, sneezing. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine, Luca,” I say. I swear even though these two are older than me, they’re acting like toddlers right now. I add, “You need to go home.” I turn to my mom and look her in the eye. “You too. You both need to go home.”
All I want right now is to climb into my bed and hide under the covers, preferably in fetal position. Although the clinic’s open, it’s my day off, and I want to spend it soaking my bones in depression.
Luca should be proud of himself. He wanted to cure me of my dark addiction and here I am, no longer craving it. He was successful. Yay.
“Daughters aren’t supposed to tell their mothers to leave, dear,” Mom says as she turns around and walks away. Lifting a bony finger in the air, she adds, “But I was leaving anyway. I’ve seen what I came here to see.”
“You should go home, too,” I say to Luca when Mom’s out of earshot.
He slowly shakes his head. Rain splashes over him, and he drips more water every time he moves.
“Don’t be stubborn, Luca. I know the truth now. It’s not something I can just get over.”
“You think the truth is that I’m a dealer and a junkie, like your mom said?” Luca asks, pain flashing in his eyes.
I shrug.
“You believe her over me?” Luca asks again.
I shrug again.
I can tell Luca that I found his pill bottles, I guess, but I don’t feel like explaining myself to the guy who treated me like a fool. I mean, he hid something from me, too.
Luca drops his head and chuckles. “I don’t believe this. I told her you were too smart to believe her.”
“Are you going home now?”
“Sarah. I’m not a junkie, much less a dealer. I’ve been clean for years. I swear.”
Okay, maybe he’s not a junkie. Maybe he’s clean. But he still stole those pill bottles. I have no idea what he does with them, but it doesn’t matter. I don’t see how he’s going to convince me he’s innocent.
“Go home, Luca.” I turn away and start toward the door again.
“Sarah, please. You have to believe me.” Luca follows me. He sneezes. “I swear I’m clean.” He hesitates before he adds, “Your mom was trying to blackmail me because she thought I had some drugs she could get her hands on.”
I stop in my tracks. This is new information. And it does sound like something my mom would do.
“That’s a serious accusation,” I say.
“It’s true. I have proof. I can show you.” Luca pats on his back pocket and pulls out a phone—a wet phone.
“Are you sure that thing still works?”
“It’s water-resistant.” Luca’s dark eyebrows are knitted in concentration. He wipes his phone screen to clear the drops of rain. Several taps and swipes later, he shows me a text message from my mom.
Donna: That’ll teach you to hold out on me.”
It was sent this morning. So she really came here just to see Luca defeated and humiliated.
When I raise my gaze to Luca, I notice he’s wrapping his arms around his body and shivering. The wind is growing stronger.
I look around us. There are no signs of the storm dying down any time soon. If Luca goes back into his car, he’ll be sitting in a puddle of rain for hours. He’s too stubborn to go home.
I take a deep breath. I feel like I’m rewarding good behavior, like I’m negotiating with a terrorist. All the pet training books say not to encourage bad behavior because it’s just going to get worse, but it’s not like I’m going to keep Luca around.
Regardless of what my mom did to him, he still stole those bottles. There’s no excuse for that.
Still, I can’t let him walk back to his car, all sad and shivering. He looks like a dejected dog with his tail between his legs.