Page 131 of Last Letters to Ara
I mean, for once, my mind wasn’t on food at all, but fuck if I can turn down some mini cheeseburgers. “Where?”
Theo smiles. “The one good thing about this event, the food rocks.”
“I’ll try not to embarrass you in front of the van der Woodsens and Waldorfs.”
“The who?”
I wave him off. “Don’t worry about it.”
I’m halfway through my fifth mini cheeseburger when I hear a raspy voice, as if it’s been permanently ruined from too much yelling, say, “Oh, aren’tyoua sweet thing?”
His words are like cough syrup, full of honey but still fucking gross, and have my beloved cheeseburgers rising up the back of my throat.
Theo stiffens beside me, face gone white, as if every bit of life has been sucked out of him at the sound of that voice, confirming who’s just approached my other side. I can’t imagine the kind of images it brings with it, ones of that voice greeting him in the middle of the night, with no effort spent on sounding civil before the wailing begins.
A callous look is easy to muster as I turn in his father’s direction, giving him a once over. Aside from his height being roughly the same as Theo’s, I don’t see asmidgeof him in this man. His father’s skin is a worn, leathery texture, stained red from years of alcohol abuse. His features are too big for his face, as if even those are more domineering than anyone would want. Where Theo is handsome, sculpted and charming, this man is lined in a way where you can see his anger sitting a feather’s brush away at all times. Something bubbles in my gut, begging for an outlet. Purerage.
“Photoshop just gets better and better these days.” I have never used this tone, but I can’t stomach looking at this man who caused Theo so much pain. “I barely recognize you from the billboards.”
I see Theo’s head jerk in my direction, probably in shock.
Bill has the audacity to think I’m making a joke and laughs. “I like this one.”
“Wish I could say the same.” I reach over and grab Theo’s hand, making myself his lifeline. Bill doesn’t miss it.
“I’m sure poor little Theo here has told you all about his sad little life, where he’s decided to write me in as a villain. He’s always had such...imagination.”
Bullies like to be heard. They like to be feared. I won’t give him that. “Actually, I can’t say that I’ve heard much about you at all.”
He laughs again, and I decide that I’d rather listen to nails on a chalkboard. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Believe what you like, but I’m certain you spend more time thinking about you, than Theo does.” I’ve spoken all of a few sentences with this man and I already feel like I need a shower. He’s a disgusting slime ball, and I don’t know how much more of this I can take before I physically scratch his eyes out.
Bill turns his focus on Theo. “Are you just going to let thisgirldo all the talking, son?” His tone drips with condescension. “I haven’t seen you in a year, and you have nothing to say?”
“I hope you’ve been well,” Theo manages. His voice is hollow, stiff. It twists my heart, and the burning in my stomach intensifies.
Bill breaks out into a counterfeit laugh. “Weak as ever, son.” He turns his attention back toward me, letting his eyes glide down my body like I’m here forhim.
“We were just going,” I say as I wrap my arm through Theo’s, giving us an out, before I end up needing a defense attorney of my own for assaulting this man in public.
Bill smiles again. “I’m sure you were.”
Theo hasn’t said another word. I can’t take another minute of this, seeing the person who’s brought so much brightness into my life being dimmed even a fraction. I need his witty banter. His ability to always say the right thing. Seeing him standing here like a ghost snaps something in me.
“Wish I could say it was a pleasure, Bob, but I’m sure you don’t get that very often anyway.”
“It’s Bill.”
“Isn’t that what I said?” My voice cuts like a knife. I have no idea who this person is, but I’m so happy she came out to play tonight. I begin to turn us in the other direction to make our escape when Bill grabs my arm, pulling me to a stop.
His touch sends nausea roiling through me, which only increases when he leans in close, saying just loud enough for Theo to hear, too, “Let me know if you ever get sick of the child, and you want to know what a real manfeelslike.”
Everything goes silent. This kind of hate is something I’ve never known. I want tohurthim. There is only burning rage, incinerating my insides, ready to burn this entire fucking place to the ground with him inside.
This disgusting excuse of a man, who made the person I love most consider something that would have taken him away from me forever, thinks he can not only make a pass at me, but take yet another piece of happiness away from Theo in the process.
I lean in even closer. He’s got this smug look on his face as if he thinks he has an OUNCE of anything that could tempt me. My voice is a silenced gun when I finally speak.
