Page 82 of Tap Left
She points a long red nail in my direction. "Lola?"
"I'm sorry, but I don't think we've met?"
"No, we haven't." Her lip curls in disgust. "I am Graziela."
Graziela.
The name from Daire's phone. The text message that sent me into a tizzy, and here she is in the flesh. I was so certain I had it right. She was his next conquest. Or perhaps former conquest. But either way, she was the target of my jealousy.
Only something isn't falling into place with that scenario. She is beautiful, and I guess she could be Daire's type, but it doesn't really seem like it. For starters, she's at least a good fifteen years older than him. And there's a ring on her left hand. And I'm still trying to make sense of that when a man I don't recognize walks through the door and into the middle of our conversation.
"Grazi."
She starts cursing at him in Portuguese, tossing her hands into the air and gesturing wildly. The man seems to be attempting to pacify her as he replies to her in her native language, none of which I understand.
"This is her fault." She breaks into English and turns to me. "This is all your fault." Tears form in her eyes, and the man wraps an arm around her in support.
"I want you to stay away from him," she tells me. "That is what I came here to tell you. You are done with Adrian. I want you to leave him alone."
"Daire?" I whisper.
"He is drinking because of you!" the woman accuses. "We almost lost him because of you! You are selfish, and you do not deserve him."
The man turns his attention to me, and it is cold. Guarded and protective. I don't know who these people are, but they know Daire somehow.
"Look, kid," he says. "You and Adrian have a long history, I understand that. But Grazi is right. The two of you are no good together. You're like fire and gasoline. You know that. He knows that. But Adrian isn't strong enough to stay away from you. So if you ever cared about him at all, you need to do what's best for him. You need to let him go."
His words shock and hurt me. They are both looking at me like I'm the devil incarnate and I don't understand. They couldn't know about me unless Daire told them. And whatever he's told them is written all over their faces right now.
"Is that what he wants?" I force out.
The words seem so final. And last night, as mad as I was, I would have been okay with that. But I didn't expect this. I didn't expect it to end like this.
"It's what he needs," the man tells me. "And I think you know that, Lola."
I try to think of a million reasons why I should argue with them. I don't owe them anything. I don't even know them. But the only thing I keep coming back to is that maybe they are right. Daire and I are no good for each other. We've proven that time and time again. And I always said from the beginning this was not a story with a happy ending, so I don't know why sometimes that's so difficult for me to accept.
"If it’s what he wants,” I croak, “then you have my word. I won't contact him anymore."
36
Daire
“Quit being a pussy.”
I press the stop button on the treadmill and bow my head to take a deep breath. I’m this close to telling Jimmy to fuck off. And that’s not going to help the situation. The nurse frets over me and asks me if I need some more water. I stare right through her and hope that she’ll go away.
There are too many people crammed into this tiny room watching me at my worst. The therapist, a nurse, another doctor who I’m reasonably certain is only here to watch the game on TV, and Grazi and Jimmy too.
It’s been four weeks of this, and physical therapy is no fucking joke. I’m tired and irritable, and I have the attention span of a toddler right now as well as the emotional capacity of one too.
“This is what you wanted,” Jimmy says. “If you’re hell-bent on keeping that leg, then you need to work for it.”
Again, I’d like to tell him to fuck off. But Grazi would probably put a hex on me for using that kind of language in front of her.
“It’s easy for you to say.”
My leg was in bad shape before, but I guess the screws that held it together were no match for a speeding car. The events of that night are still mostly fuzzy. There are fragments I can recall. Like my decision to buy a bottle of Jack instead of facing Lola. But she found me anyway, and by that time I was already three sheets to the wind. She yelled, and I mostly listened. And then she left.
