Page 40 of Demo
After a beat, I end the call. Because it hurts too much to remember loving him.
Chapter 12
KNOX
“Damn,Ibetshe’sreally taking a beating,” Tommy says as he scrutinizes the newspaper in front of his face and sips tepid coffee.
We’ve been blocking out thresholds all day and are finally taking a break. Gino’s over by the tool bench recharging the nail gun, and I’m next to Tommy at the folding table, pouring hours-old Tim Horton’s coffee into a cup.
“Who?” I ask, in response to Tommy’s question.
“Lizzie.”
I choke on my sip as I see Gino sag a little at the tool bench. “What are you talking about?” I ask.
Tommy looks up at me expectantly, like he can’t believe I don’t know what he’s talking about. Then he looks at Gino who is just shaking his head as he swaps out the battery on the nail gun.
“Dude,” Tommy says. “She misidentified some guy. Called him a sexual predator. I heard the people on the local radio talking about it. They were making fun of the poor sap, Stockwell, I think his name is.”
“Learn when to shut your mouth, Tommy,” Gino interrupts, and I look up to find his apologetic eyes. He sighs. “I heard some talk about it, too, bro. I wasn’t gonna bring it up. Thought it was, I dunno,” he shoots a death glare at Tommy, “distasteful.”
Now Tommy looks apologetic. “Sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking.”
I rip the newspaper from his hands and glance it over, feeling my stomach bottom out. I’m not even sure what exactly they’re talking about, but I do understand Lizzie fucked up. And, yet again, I’m sure it’s my fault. If she’s anywhere near the state I’m in, it’s hard for her to think about anything other than us.
Hell, I almost put the nail gun through my hand last week because I saw her leaving the office earlier in the day with Dee, both caught up in a fit of laughter, and I began thinking maybe it’s best I just stay away from her, seeing as I hadn’t seen her laugh like that in who knows how long.
Whatever mistake she made, I just know she’s beating herself up over it.
I ball up the newspaper and toss it before I swipe a bunch of empty cups and a bag of those little creamer cups off the table and storm out of the shell of a room we’re in. Descending the temporary stairs, I hop down onto the dirt ground and head toward the gravel parking lot, the sound of saws and hammering seeming to creep up on my senses, getting louder and louder, even though I’m getting farther away from the job site.
A hand on my shoulder causes me to spin around. “What?!” I bark out, and see Jenny standing right in front of me.
She jumps back.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“No, no. I’m sorry. I just … I was calling your name, and you didn’t respond.”
I look at her, and then down. Her blonde hair is pulled back and she’s not wearing any makeup, like usual when she’s on the job.
“I just have plans that need to be approved before I can start any paperwork, and I can’t find your dad or your brother. I shouldn’t have come to you, I’m sorry. I can figure it out on my own.”
It’s then I see papers in her hand, and I don’t look at her as I respond. “I’ll tell my dad to come see you first thing in the morning.”
Ever since Jenny and I … well, since we fucked up my marriage, I avoid her at all costs. It hurts because we were good friends.
My dad hired Jenny just out of high school to do some bookkeeping. Even as a young adult, she could handle the foul-mouthed workers who would catcall and whistle at her as she made her way across a jobsite in a pair of jeans and a company T-shirt.
One night, during those early years, we both worked late, and I happened to have a cooler of beer in the back of my truck, so we sat on the tailgate and popped the tops on a couple.
I remember thinking she was cute, her blonde hair a mess from the workday, drywall dust smattered across her nose.
And damn, could she drink. She was already reaching for a second beer before mine even started to gather condensation on the bottle.
“What?” she asked, seeing me eye her.
I glanced away, embarrassed that I was caught ogling. “Nothing,” I said. I took a swig of beer, then added, “I knew you were a tomboy; I just didn’t know you could drink all the guys under the table, too.”
