Page 118 of Cuts like a Knife
“Why are you so mad? What are you even so mad about? That guy? That guy on the boat? Because I don’t care about that. It doesn’t matter.”
“Oh really? I’m going to lose my job, but you think it doesn’t matter?”
Instead of answering, he sighs, heavily.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
No, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to talk about any of it. I want to keep everything bad that’s ever happened to me in a box somewhere deep inside my chest. Away from the light.
I remain still, looking away, pretending not to hear him.
“Lex… come on,” he continues. He’s switched to a stupid, gentle voice. Like I’m a wild animal that he needs to tame with special, soothing tones. “That was…” I can hear bafflement in his voice and I hate it. Bafflement is judgement. How dare he judge me?
“What? It was what, Andrew?” I don’t turn my head, but my disdain is clear.
“It was nuts. Like, padded-room nuts. You jumped off a boat in the f—ing ocean.”
“So what? As you proved, it wasn’t exactly a life-threatening leap. You just couldn’t mind your own business, could you?”
“Oh come on,”
“Come on yourself. I was fine.”
“You most definitely were not fine. You weren’t fine and you aren’t fine. You jumped off the boat, then you insisted on swimming to shore — at least I could see that you made it — but you could have drowned. For real. Once you were off the sandbar, you could easily have drowned. But you didn’t. Because you’re unbelievably f—ing lucky. But then, obviously, you found yourself lost. And again, you could have died. Walking alone on the road in the pitch black, half-naked. I got to you as fast as I could and it still took hours. I was f—ing worried! You are un-f—ing-hinged!”
He’s finally losing patience. His real feelings are finally coming out.
“Shut up.”
“Very mature. We’re not kids anymore, you know.”
“Oh, do I ever.”
From his side of the backseat, Drew sighs again, noisily. “Lex. Why? That’s what I don’t understand. What is the deal with you lately? You’re taciturn at the best of times, which is fine. You’ve pretty much always been that way. I’m used to it, believe it not, but ever since I said I wanted to make things more official, you’ve been different.”
“Different?”
“Worse340.”
“F— you, Drew. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do. Maybe you don’t know the real me.”
“I do know you. That’s the thing. I’ve known you my whole life. But you’ve lost the plot and you won’t tell me why! You won’t tell me anything.”
“You know why. Now you know. Everyone knows.”
“Just because you got f—”
I stop him by whipping my head around and covering his mouth with one hand.
“Stop. Don’t say it. It’s … I don’t… just stop, Drew. Please stop.”
It’s not rational, but even the thought of Damon the driver hearing that I got fired makes my stomach churn.
I don’t want to talk about this. I want it to stay in the dark. Drew knows too much already, but he doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know the worst of it.
He doesn’t know that I actually did it. I’m a plagiarist. He probably thinks Rian was just drunk. Belligerent. Wrong.
If he knew the truth, there’s no chance he’d be using that gentle voice.
