Every Wrong Reason Page 7

  He met my eyes with a steady gaze. “I remember.”

  My heart thumped painfully in my chest and I took a deep breath before I could tear my attention from him. “Pasta.”

  “What?” His voice was rougher than it had been a few seconds ago.

  “You like pasta. And it’s easy to make.” I pointed at his favorite kind of noodles and sauce before adding some to my own cart. “Basically all you need to be able to do is boil water.”

  He reached for some noodles. “I think I can handle spaghetti. If I have to eat another cheeseburger this week, I might murder Jared.”

  I laughed. “Your brother doesn’t cook?”

  Nick threw me an annoyed look. “Jared eats McDonalds. For every meal.”

  I wrinkled my nose. I thought Nick and I had eaten badly, but that was above and beyond a bowl of ice cream every night. “He’s going to die of a heart attack. He’s twenty-six! He can’t live like that forever.”

  Nick nodded, “I tell him that every day.”

  I smiled thinking of Nick’s younger brother and how immature he could be. “He needs a woman to settle him down.”

  My smile died when Nick flinched. I realized my mistake, but I didn’t know how to take it back. I just wanted to swallow every stupid word and run away.

  Or throw a jar of marinara sauce on the ground to distract him.

  I turned toward the shelves again and stared blindly at the sauces. I picked one up and tried to read the label, but I couldn’t see anything beyond the tears swimming in my eyes.

  Finally, Nick spoke and I wished more than anything I had just ordered Chinese. “A woman might save him from a heart attack, but she’ll kill him in every other way.” His voice dipped low and I felt the cruel bitterness in my bones.

  It was a miracle I didn’t throw the jar of sauce after all- only this time it would have been aimed at his head. I was too angry to look at him, too hurt to breathe. I felt suffocated by his presence, his bitter attitude, his razor sharp tongue. I wanted to abandon my cart and flee, but I couldn’t convince my feet to move.

  It was so silly. He hadn’t said anything shocking. It wasn’t like I’d never heard this before.

  I was the dream-killer. I was the cold-hearted shrew blinded by rational thought and practicality. I was the reason Nick couldn’t make it.

  I was the reason Nick had to give up his dream.

  And here we were again. Even though we were separated. Even though Nick was welcome to do whatever he wanted with his life. Even though I couldn’t tell him what to do anymore.

  It was still my fault.

  “This was stupid,” I spoke in a shaking whisper, one part tremulous tears, the other vibrating anger. “What are we doing?”

  Nick leaned in and growled. “I ask myself that every damn day.”

  My head snapped up and I tried not to be sick. “I mean in the grocery store. I mean here, right now. What are we doing trying to navigate single life together? Are we stupid?”

  His face flushed red and more emotions than I could name ping-ponged through me. I hated myself again. I hated him again.

  I just wanted to stop feeling like this.

  “We must be,” he admitted. “There’s obviously no other explanation for why we keep doing this to each other.”

  I nodded. Even though I felt the same way, it still killed to have him say it aloud. I lifted my chin and bravely told him, “I have a lawyer.” I didn’t. But I wanted one. It was time to stop being a coward.

  He took a step back like I had physically hit him. The color immediately drained from his face and I thought for a second he was going to be sick. After an eternal minute where we stared each other down in front of noodles, he gritted out, “Good. That’s good.”

  Immediately I felt guilty and tried to explain, “We can’t stay separated forever. I figured you would want to move on with your life.”

  “Like you do.”

  I took a steadying breath and ignored the accusation. “I’m just trying to give us both peace.”

  “I’ve heard that about divorce. It’s such a peaceful time for everyone involved.”

  Bile rose in my throat. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what, Kate? I’m not the one pushing for divorce.”

  “You’re making it seem like it’s all my fault. This is what we both want.” I quickly swiped at a wayward tear and tried not to throw up.

  He rocked back on his heels and swallowed thickly. “I keep forgetting that part.”

  “I need to go.” Before I broke down in front of him. Before I admitted that this was so much harder than I thought it was going to be. Before I said anything to get that betrayed look off his face.

  “Sure.”

  “Bye, Nick.”

  He stared at me without saying anything. I hadn’t really expected a heartfelt farewell, but I couldn’t stand the hurt in his eyes or the downward curve of his lips because I put them there. I hated the way his wrinkled clothes hung on his body because it meant I wasn’t there to fold his laundry. I hated his empty cart because he didn’t know what he liked to eat or his too-long hair because I hadn’t reminded him to get it cut.

  Our lives had once been separate. We had lived more than half of them apart. But over the last seven years they had been woven together, they had become one existence, one life. And now we were tearing everything we’d built to pieces. We were ripping apart at the seams. We were plunging forward in opposite directions.

  I was losing half of myself.

  And I wasn’t sure there was enough of me to make a whole person again.

  “Chocolate cherry,” he suddenly called after me.

  I almost tripped when my head whipped back to look at him. “Wh-what?”

  “Ice cream. You like chocolate cherry the best.”

  I fled the store. I left my cart and groceries behind and I ran for my car. I broke down as soon as the door closed and I didn’t quit until long after I was locked away safely in my house again.

  I did make one stop on the way home, though. Even though my face was a mess of dripping mascara and big, fat tears, I couldn’t go home until I had picked up a carton of chocolate cherry ice cream.

  We might be different people now.

  But he still knew me better than anyone else.

  Chapter Six

  13. He stopped trying.

  “Kara, what are we doing here?” I put my hand up against an invisible wall and told my feet to stop walking.

  They didn’t listen.

  Mainly because my best friend had a death grip on my bicep and I was afraid that if I stopped moving, she would rip my arm straight off my body.

  “It’s hump day,” she tossed over her shoulder.

  As if that explained everything.

  “No, it’s Wednesday. And we have to work in the morning.” The neon lights over the bar flickered tellingly. They buzzed and blinked, clearly about to burn out. I stared up at them until I saw spots.

  Kara made a disgruntled sound in the back of her throat. “Noooo, it’s hump day and we deserve a reward for making it to the middle of the week!”

  Her overly bright tone disguised the raw frustration she felt. It had been a rough couple of weeks for both of us. There must have been something in the drinking water this year because our students were some of the hardest we had ever had to deal with.

  I couldn’t do much more than fall face first on my couch after work most days. Grading papers only added to my stress, since most of my students thought they were either comedians or above the rules.

  “Fine, let’s reward ourselves someplace else.” I stared at the rickety front door. The screen hung crooked on the hinges and loud music filtered through the murky screen. “Any place else.”

  Her Skeletor grip loosened. “At least it’s not the alcohol you have a problem with.”

  “Of course not,” I assured her. “In most every circumstance, I’m pro-alcohol.”

  She glanced up at the hot pink sign. “
Then what do you have against Starla’s?”

  “Other than my first date with Nick was here? And that he sometimes still plays here? The bar is full of our co-workers.”

  She paused, her tall pointed shoes settling precariously in the gravel lot. “I forgot he used to come here.” She didn’t mention Nick’s band because she rarely made it to a show. Kara tried very hard to be a free spirit, but the truth was her family had instilled high standards in her. Nick’s lack of a full-time job and real-world aspirations bothered her. She might not have been pro-divorce, but she certainly didn’t try to talk me out of it. “Are you afraid Nick is going to be in there?”

  I chewed my bottom lip, struggling with the root of my fear. “Not really, no. It’s more the memory of this place. And our co-workers. I hate our co-workers.”

  “Well, obviously. Everybody hates their co-workers.”

  I wasn’t sure that was accurate, but it was true for me so I stayed silent. I shuffled my leather ankle boots and stared at the chalky gravel debris spread out at my feet. I wanted to be anywhere but here. But even the pissy people I worked with were better than going home to an empty house and the thoughts tumbling through my head. “I thought this would be easier,” I admitted.

  She leaned forward until we were just a few inches apart. “You keep saying that, babe. It’s time to change your expectations. Then maybe it will get easier.”

  Ignoring the sting of pain, I suppressed a smile because she was right. “Okay.”

  “Okay to ‘Kara you’re brilliant and I should hire you as my life coach?’ Or okay to the skeezy bar where our middle-aged fellow teachers are currently getting shit-faced enough to karaoke?” She flashed a huge, toothy grin and resumed her bruising grip on my arm so she could tug me into the bar.

  “You didn’t say anything about karaoke!” I choked on the thick musky air that smelled like stale beer and the remnants of burning cigarettes long extinguished. Smoking in restaurants and bars had been outlawed in Chicago, but places like this would forever hold the memories and lingering scent of when it had been legal.

  The screen door slammed behind me and I felt it with a finality that reached my bones. I was here. And I was apparently staying.

  And if Kara even hinted at the idea of karaoke, I would make her a fake Match.com account and set her up on dates with World of Warcraft gamers that still lived in their moms’ basements. So help me, god.

  When Kara and I first started teaching at Hamilton, the faculty preferred to let their hair down at an establishment closer to school. An equally desolate dive bar, O’Connor’s had dollar drinks on Thursdays and STD’s living on the toilet seats. But it caught fire four years ago and the owners had decided to retire instead of rebuild. Anxious to impress my new friends, I had offered up Starla’s as an alternative. Nick and I had been coming here since college, Kara had been drafted in on non-live music nights and it was only a five-minute drive from school.

  Walking in tonight, with Mr. Bunch, the art teacher, at the mic screaming out Tainted Love, I realized my mistake.

  If we ever wondered why we had trouble relating to our students… this might be it.

  The very reason.

  “Let’s get a drink!” Kara shouted over Mr. Bunch’s shrieking warble.

  “Please!”

  She smiled at me, laughter dancing in her eyes and led the way through the crush of sweaty bodies and rickety tables. The polished wooden bar took up the length of one side of the main room. Two bartenders worked relentlessly to fill pint glasses and mix cocktails. I breathed a sigh of anticipation and tried not to dwell on how much I was planning to use alcohol as an emotional crutch tonight.

  It’s Wednesday, I reminded myself.

  I can’t teach with a hangover, I lectured.

  Gimme gimme gimme, my brain chanted, ignoring every good and well-intentioned reason to stay sober.

  Kara leaned over the counter and ordered two whiskey and diets. I could have kissed her when she handed me the sweating tumbler filled with dark liquid. I took a sip and closed my eyes against the burning coolness as it slid down my throat.

  The cheap whiskey went straight to my head. I took another sip and the burn spread from my throat to my limbs, searing through my blood and making my fingers tingle. I opened my eyes and licked my already wet lips.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I waded through the tension that knotted in my neck and tied my stomach in tangles. I wouldn’t really medicate with alcohol, but it was tempting. It was tempting to do anything to get rid of these feelings, these doubts and fears. This pain and self-involved misery.

  “He’s watching you,” Kara announced in my ear.

  I became instantly alert, my eyes scanning the crowd for Nick. “Who?”

  “Eli,” she answered happily. “He’s near the stage!”

  Eli. I shook my head. I wasn’t expecting that. Or him. Or for Kara to notice. I found him across the room, sitting at a small table with one of our co-workers. His usually-tamed hair was tousled and wild, his glasses tucked away out of sight. He didn’t bother to turn away. He kept his dark eyes trained right on me.

  Something warm burst to life in my belly. I fidgeted uncomfortably on my low heels and tried not to give myself away.

  “Let’s go over there,” Kara yelled.

  I could hear the smile in her voice, but I didn’t want to acknowledge it. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “God, you’re such a party pooper tonight!”

  I tore my gaze from Eli’s and met my best friend’s. “He’s hot, Kara.”

  Her smile returned. “I know, right!”

  I shook my head. I could feel the fear throw cold water all over the whiskey’s delicious heat. “I don’t know what to do with this.”

  Her shoulders rose with her deep breath, preparing her for battle. “Don’t do anything with it, Kate. Just talk to him. Just be normal.”

  “I haven’t admitted another guy’s hot-”

  She frantically waved her hands in front of my face. “And you’re not going to now! I’m not asking you to go tell Eli what you think of him. I’m just asking you to have a conversation. I want you to try to relax. I want you to try to be Kate again.”

  “I should go home.”

  “You should have another drink and remember what it’s like to be single.”

  If anyone else had said that to me, I would have turned around and left. I could be obnoxiously stubborn. Contrary just to be contrary.

  But this wasn’t anyone else. This was the person I trusted most in life. This was my friend that only wanted what was best for me.

  And I knew I was making too big of a deal out of this. There wasn’t any harm in a conversation. I could talk to Eli, just like I did at school the other day.

  Just to be sure, I downed my drink and ordered another one. It was one thing to freak out in front of Kara. Eli didn’t need to see my neurosis.

  Er, any more of my neurosis.

  We pushed through the crowded tables to the other side of the bar. It seemed like the entire faculty had come out tonight. Mrs. Patz, the school librarian, had made it on stage to perform a duet with Mrs. Chan, the geography teacher. I had never heard Cher sung quite like that before.

  When I finally reached Eli’s table, my eyes were wide and a smile danced in the corners of my mouth. It must have been a rough week for all of us.

  That was the only explanation I could come up with for all of this… insanity.

  This musical insanity.

  Eli scooted down a chair so I could sit next to him. The gym teacher and assistant football coach, Kent Adams, made room for Kara. Kent was single and young and had a crush on Kara. They had been on a date before, but she claimed lack of chemistry.

  I knew the truth. She was scared.

  Kara was my opposite. I fell in love on the second date and got married the year after I graduated college. Kara refused to let anyone get that close to her. Her defenses were thicker than the Great Wall of China. She let
very few people in.

  I was one of the lucky ones.

  Kent was cool though and he’d always been nice to me. I wished- silently, of course, because I valued not having my hair ripped out- that she’d give him a chance.

  Eli leaned in with a crooked half-smile. “Hey.”

  I bit my bottom lip to keep from smiling wider. “Hey.”

  “Did you get your name on the list?” His head tilted toward the stage.

  “It was the first thing I did when I walked in.”

  His smile widened and straight, white teeth winked at me from behind his full lips. “Liar,” he teased. “You walked straight to the bar.”

  I took a sip of my new drink and felt a blush spread out on both of my cheeks. I blamed the alcohol. “And you didn’t?”

  “Of course I did,” he chuckled. “This has been a shit week.”

  I nodded and took a deep breath. The cops had been called yesterday after two kids beat the shit out of each other during lunch. Today someone pulled the fire alarm and interrupted second period. That was on top of all of the other day-to-day drama this year seemed filled with.

  “You are not wrong,” I agreed.

  We sat silently while new teachers took the stage. The beginning notes to Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing came on and I took a quick drink to hide my excitement.

  Eli’s breath brushed over my neck. “I saw that.” His low voice rumbled in my ear.

  I looked up at him from beneath my eyelashes and asked innocently, “Saw what?”

  “You like this song,” he accused.

  “Everybody likes this song!” My defense was ruined with laughter. “It’s maybe the most likable song in the history of songs.”

  His dark eyes lit up, glittering in the dim lights of the dingy bar. “Did you want to join them? I’m sure we could find you a mic.”

  “Just a small town girl,” I mouthed to him. “Living in a lonely world.” I held my tumbler to my lips, gripping it dramatically. “She took the midnight train goin’ anywhere!”

  Eli’s head tipped back as he laughed out loud. “What will it take to get you to do that on stage?”