Free Dirty Red (Love Me With Lies) by Tarryn Fisher

either. That things change when people click .
    But, Caleb had remained firm. He wasn’t ready. He didn’t want me. He wanted her. He hadn’t exactly said that, but I knew it down to my marrow. I knew it by the way he always looked away when I brought her up. He wouldn’t even tell me her name. Whoever had ruined him had ruined everything for me.
    I felt like a small piece of regurgitated potato skin. He just wanted to fuck me. I was curled up on my own sofa, after leaving his place in a fit of rage. I wanted to do something destructive. I called every single one of my slutty, ho bag friends and arranged to meet them for drinks.
    I walked into the bar and had three numbers within an hour. Normally, I didn’t give any of the douchebags who approached me the time of day, but there was a doctor with an accent I found attractive. I tucked his number into my purse and had another drink.
    By the time I left the bar , I was sufficiently sauced. Nothing new for me. I climbed into my car after bidding my girlfriends goodnight, and hadn’t driven five blocks when I crashed into a parked SUV. I sped off before anyone could notice me, but I was severely shaken.
    I called my mother.
    Her voice was impatient when she answered.
    “Mom, I got into an accident. Can you come get me?”
    “I’m in bed.”
    “I know. I’m sorry. I’m drunk. I need you, Mom.”
    She sighed heavily. I heard my father’s voice in the background and her snap — “It’s Leah. She’s gotten into some sort of trouble. She wants me to go get her.”
    They exchanged words I couldn’t hear, and then she was back on the line. “Did anyone see you?”
    I told her no.
    “Good,” she said.
    They spoke some more. My father sounded angry.
    I waited patiently, massaging my head. It had hit the steering wheel on impact, and I felt the beginnings of a headache.
    Her voice came back on the line. “Daddy is sending Cliff. He’ll bring you to the house.”
    Cliff was my father’s driver. He lived in a little apartment on their twelve-acre property. I thanked her, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice, and gave her directions to where I was.
    What had I expected? My mother hopping in her little, red Mercedes and driving to my rescue? A hug? I wiped the tears from my face and shrugged away the hurt feelings.
    “Don’t be such a fucking little baby,” I told myself.
     
    Cliff arrived ten minutes later. He parked his pickup in an empty lot and jumped in the driver’s seat of my car. I looked over at him gratefully.
    “Thanks, Cliff.”
    He nodded and shifted the car into drive. The good thing about Cliff was that he wasn’t a talker. When we pulled through the gates of the mansion, all of the lights were out. I stumbled through the front door — which was left open for me — and felt my way up to the spare room. No mother waiting, no father waiting.
    I cle aned up in the bathroom, put a band-aid on the cut on my forehead and swallowed three Advil for my headache. Crawling into bed, I drifted off, thinking of Caleb.
    I woke up to the sound of my name. It was my mother’s voice, impatient. I sat up quickly and flinched at the pain that zigzagged across my scalp. She was standing next to my bed, fully dressed, her hair coiffed on top of her head in a perfect chignon. Her lips were ruby red and pulled tight. She was angry with me. I flinched again and pulled the sheet up to my chin.
    “Hi, Mama.”
    “Get up.”
    “Okay …”
    “Your father is very angry, Johanna. This is the third time this year you’ve had an incident with your car.”
    I shifted uncomfortably. She was right.
    “He’s having breakfast. He wants you to come down so he can speak to you.”
    I nodded. Of course he would send my mother. Ever his envoy, my father never spoke to me unless he sent my mother to summon me to a meeting. Even when I was a little girl, I remember being called this way when I did something naughty.
     
    I hurriedly dressed in my clothes from the night