Free Thrown by Tabi Wollstonecraft

ofapokerplayerifshecouldbebotheredtolearnthegame.
    ‘Him.Theone.He’sgoingtomakehismovetomorrow.Beprepared.’
    ‘Donotstartcallinghim‘theone’.’
    ‘I’llcallhimwhateverIdamnwellplease,Missy.Anyway,whowasI referringto?’
    ‘Stoker.’
    ‘Aha,soyouadmitStokeristheone!’
    WebothbreakdownintofitsofgigglesandallthetimeI’mawareof theclocktickingtowardtheeleventhhourwhenmybestfriendinthe wholeworldwillbegone.
    *
    Thetimepasseswaytoofast.Itisn’tfair.Westandinthehallwayby thefrontdoor,hersuitcasepackedinthetypicalDellwayofjust throwingallherclothesinsideandforcingthecaseshut.Thetaxiwillbe hereanymomentandthenshe’llbeonherwayhome.Accordingtothe waythingsarenow, my homeisPromiseHouse.Itdoesn’tfeellikehome butneitherdoesBostonanymore.Idon’tfeellikeIhaveahome anywhereatall.
    ‘Safejourney,Dell.’
    ‘That’sthefifthtimeyou’vesaidthat.I’llbefine.I’lltextyouwhenI gettotheairportandwhenIlandontheotherside.’
    ‘OK.’Itrytoholdbackthethreateningtearsbyswallowinghard.
    ‘Hey,we’llgetonlinetomorrowandhaveagoodchat.’Shehastears wellinginherowneyes.
    ‘Idon’twantyoutogo,Dell.’
    Sheputsherarmsaroundmeandwehug.Shestartstocry.‘I’mgoing tomissyou,’shewhispers.
    ‘Metoo.’Iletthetearscomeandwestandtherecryingtogetheruntil thetaxisoundsitshornonthedriveway.
    ‘Myrideishere,’shesays,dabbingathereyeswithaKleenex.
    ‘Yeah.Makesureyoutextme.’
    ‘Iwill.’Sheopensthedoorandgoesouttothecab.Thedriverputs hercaseinthetrunkandshegetsintothebackofthecar,wavingatme throughthewindowasthetaxipullsawayfromthehouseandturnsonto themainroad.Istandattheopenfrontdooraftershe’sgoneandcry somemore.Ican’tbelieveshe’sgone.Afewhoursagowewerehaving breakfastandlaughingandnowsheisn’thereanymoreandthehouseis quiet.Shewon’tbehereforbreakfasttomorrow.Orthenextday.Orthe dayafterthat.
    Ireturntothesilenthouseandclosethedoor.
    I’mnotgoingouttoday.
    Ifeeltoosadandtired.
    Igointothelivingroomandcurluponthesofa.WhenIwasalittle girlIusedtoliehereandwatchtheflamescrackleandsparkinthebig stonefireplace.Wehadafireintherelastnightwhilewesatwatching TVanddrinkingsodaandtalkingaboutnothinginparticular.
    Nowthefireisdeadandthefireplaceisjustablacksquare.
    Iclosemyeyesandletthetearsrollhotlyovermyface.
    Myonlyfriend.
    Gone.
    PARTTWO
    SECRETS
    CHAPTERSEVEN
    Dawn
    Amy
    IgetoutofbedthenextmorningtofindMrTibblesinthekitchen waitingforhisbreakfast.Thekitchenclocktellsmeit’sonlysixoclock butIcan’tgobacktosleepbecauseIfeeltoorestless.Ialreadyknowthat todayisgoingtobeabaddayandlastnight,theonlythingthatprevented mefromusingtherazorsinmynightstandwasthatIwasjusttootired.I fellasleeponthesofaafterDellleftthenwearilyclimbedthestairsafew hourslaterandcollapsedonthebed.NowI’mpayingforallthatsleep witharestlessnessthatmakesmefeellikeit’smid-morning,notsixa.m.
    Itisn’tevenlightoutyet.There’saslightgraytingetotheskybutthe sunisn’tup.SowhyamI?IneedtosortoutmysleeppatternsorI’llend upnappinginthebookshopwhenIshouldbeworking.
    Iturnfromthekitchenwindowandfeedthecatthenstandtherefora momentlisteningtothesilenceofPromiseHouse.It’swaytooearlyto opentheshopbutIneedtogetoutfrominsidethesefourwallsfora while.Maybeawalkalongthecliffswillclearoutthecobwebsinmy head.Itlookslikeanicedayoutthere.IfIleavenow,Icancatchthe sunrise.
    BeforeIleave,Iapplyalittlemakeupandbrushmyhair, rememberingmychanceencounterwithStokeratthecemetery.I’llcome backandchangebeforeIgointotownsomybluejeansandshort-sleeved bluesweaterwillbefineforthewalk.Thesleevesofthesweaterare shortbutnottooshort;theycomedowntomyelbows.Ineverhavemy upperarmsexposed.Never.IfIeverwanttheworldtoseehowuglyIam inside,Ijustneedtogooutwithbarearms.Thescarstellthewholestory.
    Ileavebythebackdoorandthesaltyseabreezefeelsgoodonmy face.Thetideisoutandthestretchofsandbeneaththecliffsisexposed andIconsidertakingawalkalongthebeachbutIdon’tknowanything aboutseatidesandifthewavescomeinwhileI’mdownthereandIcan’t findawaybackupthecliffs,I’llbestuck.SoIsticktotheclifftopsand