Page 259 of Darling Venom
Soft.
Slow.
And this time, I said the words.
In my head.
Where the demons feasted on my weaknesses and told me I didn’t deserve her.
“Penny for your thoughts?”
Terry swaggered into the kitchen.
Something landed on my lap.
Not a penny. A poker chip. Warm from Terry’s palm.
I lifted it, studying the engraving.
To thine own self be true.
Fake gold rimmed the green token. The words “unity”, “service”, and “recovery” arched along the border. A big two stamped the center.
Two months.
Terry had been sober for two months.
I wasn’t sure how to take this, or whether I believed the currency beyond its prop value.
“That’s what the cool kids say these days, right?” he followed up. “Saw little Miss Richards flipping pennies around the house.”
My fingers toyed with the smooth edges of the chip before I tossed it back at him. It bounced off his chest and landed in his open palm. I don’t think I’d ever seen Terry with enough hand-eye coordination to tie his shoes, let alone catch a coin mid-fall.
“Well?” Terry settled onto the barstool beside me and slid the token across the counter. It slowed inches from my cereal bowl. “I gave you one hell of a penny. Now give me one of your thoughts.”
I ignored his words and the chip, swiveling my seat until I faced him. He’d combed his hair. Cut it, too. A thick layer of gel slicked the strands back, pressed tight to his scalp. The salt-and-pepper bristles that once covered his cheeks and chin were no longer there.
He wore a clean t-shirt that didn’t look like something you’d find in a dumpster outside your local Goodwill. In fact, put him in a lineup with a dozen aging nine-to-fivers, and he’d fit right in.
Weird shit.
“You’ve really been sober.” I didn’t feel as much of a fool as I thought I would after saying it.
“Unfortunately.”
“Why?”
“Terms and conditions of my stay.”
I believed that like I believed the Old New World Order theory.
“Give me the real reason.” I downed half my glass of water and bit into an ice cube, crushing it into dust between my molars.
I don’t know what I was waiting for.
For me to hate him more? Less?
For an opportunity to let him know I’d heard his words that night to Charlie? That I knew he had suicidal thoughts and stayed alive for my sake?
