Free I’ll Meet You There by Heather Demetrios Page B

sat behind the Prizm my mom and I shared, the bed sticking out into
     the narrow road between the trailers. All the tension I’d pushed down threatened to
     boil over as I looked at the truck in front of me.
    It shouldn’t have been there this late at night.
    “I think that’s Bill Easton’s truck,” Josh said. He turned to look at me, his eyebrows
     drawn together in a V . “He a family friend or something?”
    “No,” I said, my voice flat.
    Billy Easton was a good-for-nothing loser, one of my dad’s old drinking buddies. He
     was the kind of guy that women tried not to make eye contact with, a tall, wiry snake
     with a loud, mean mouth. I’d be lying if I said he didn’t scare me. Even when Dad
     was alive, I never thought Billy was all right. But after Dad died, he’d latched on
     to us, coming over every week to fix the sink or take a look at the stove. Anything
     to flirt with my mom a little.
    Josh put the truck in park, and I opened the door—I could hear my mother’s laughter
     coming out the open window and Billy’s voice smacking the night air. I didn’t know
     what was pissing me off more—the fact that Billy Freaking Easton had gotten my mom to come out of her cave when I couldn’t, or that he was probably
     wasted and I’d have to give him a ride home.
    “I gotta go,” I said, sliding out of the truck. “Thanks for…” The skin on my wrist, singing. “Tonight. I’ll see you.”
    “Skylar, let me walk you—”
    “I’m fine. Thanks, though.”
    I slammed the door behind me and hurried up the steps. Josh’s truck was still there
     when I looked back, and I could see him peering out the window, worried. I waved and
     opened the door, gagging as a wall of cigarette smoke hit me.
    “Baby!” shrieked Mom. She was standing in the middle of the living room, wearing a
     pair of my jeans, which were way too tight on her. One of the sleeves of her tank
     top had slipped down, and her body glistened with sweat. She was wearing lipstick,
     and her mouth was stretched in this huge, manic smile. “Billy’s here!”
    A cold, hard knowing settled in my chest and spilled down into my stomach. Of course. Of course everything would go to hell just when I was about to get the fuck out of Creek View.
    “Hey, honey,” he said.
    Honey , he’d called me. Honey.
    He stood behind her, close, like they’d been in the middle of—I couldn’t even think
     about what they might have been in the middle of.
    “Hi,” I said. The word sounded like a dropped book, thudding into the center of the
     trailer.
    “You want a wine cooler? Got some in the fridge,” he said.
    I blinked, wanting to think I’d heard wrong, waiting for my brain to process what wine cooler meant for me. For my mom. We hadn’t had alcohol in our house since the day Mom quit
     cold turkey. I’d promised her I wouldn’t drink either. Not ever. Not one little sip.
     I looked around, spotted a wineglass on the table with lipstick on the rim.
    I brushed past them and headed toward my room. “I don’t drink.”
    “She’s my good girl,” Mom said.
    The words stuck together, accented with a slight slur. Tears gathered in the corners
     of my eyes, but I kept walking. I’d talk to her about it tomorrow, when Billy was
     gone and she had the hangover she deserved. I pictured myself taking whatever he’d
     brought over and making her watch me dump it down the drain. I’d bring Dad into it
     if I had to.
    I paused at the door to my room and turned around. “I have to get up early for work
     tomorrow,” I said. “Would you guys mind keeping it down?”
    Billy smiled, his yellow teeth wolflike in the dim lighting. “Sure, honey.”
    I slammed my bedroom door behind me, trying to ignore my mom’s giggles. I thought
     about going over to Dylan’s, but I knew she’d still be out with Jesse, probably parked
     in a field somewhere, since they both still lived with their parents. My eyes roved
     over the walls covered with my collages