Insta-Hate (Instant Gratification #1) Read online

  “Yes, please.”

  “I’ll do it now,” he said softly. The next hour passed in silence. Then the next. Doc was quiet and I was stuck in my own head. So many questions, most of which were on repeat, kept running through my mind. It all boiled down to the fact that everything was fucked up and I didn’t know how to fix anything, or what would happen next. “One step at a time,” he offered as if reading my mind.

  “I just don’t know which step to take first.”

  “First you make it here safely. You’ll need to drive to LaGuardia to return the rental. I’ll meet you at the Hertz counter.”

  What would be in his eyes? Would Doc look at me differently? Would Ava?

  TWENTY-ONE

  Disappearance

  Arsen

  She didn’t show up to class. She didn’t bother calling or texting. I deleted her phone number from my contact list and pretended that she’d never been a student, that we never went for coffee, and that we didn’t almost fuck in her apartment. I tried to forget the tattoo on her ribcage and her scent. Throwing myself into work was the best thing I could do to keep busy, so that was what I did. I pushed everyone away while I dealt with my shit.

  “I have the basic evals for you,” Cody said, poking his head into my office.

  “Thanks, just leave them on the chair.”

  “There’s something you should know,” he said, ignoring my request and striding across the room. The door shut behind him. “Alexandria and Trinity’s results are almost identical.”

  I stared at him. That made sense, since they were the same fucking person. I could feel my face heat and my fists clench into tight balls as I pushed the chair back from the desk and crossed my arms.

  “There’s only one difference—one set of questions—and their answers are, um, concerning,” he said, his voice trailing away as he looked at me.

  “Fuck the evals, Cody. I’m done playing games. I want something real. I want you to pair me.”

  His head ticked back like I punched him. “What?”

  “You heard me. Pair me.”

  “But, I thought—”

  “Pair. Me. Please, Cody. I need something real in my life. I can’t deal with liars or bullshit anymore.”

  “You should at least look at the damn papers, because something is really fucked up about this situation and I’m not sure she even realizes it!”

  “Fucking pair me!” I yelled, standing up to look him in the eye. I could feel my fingers shaking.

  Cody sat the stack of papers down on the corner of my desk and held his hands up. “Careful what you wish for, Arsen.” He shook his head and smacked the drywall beside the door as he walked back through it, slamming it shut behind him. “You just might get it,” he shouted from the hallway.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Long Road Home

  Alexandria

  True to his word, Doc stayed on the phone with me during the trip home. If we were disconnected, he called back. He held on while I bought an adaptor to charge my phone in the car. He listened as I cried and ranted, and kept me calm as I drove into LaGuardia, trying to figure out where the rental car lot was. And when I finally figured it out, grabbed my things and wheeled them inside to the desk, he was waiting for me. So was Ava. She ran and hugged me before I could even lay the keys on the counter and speak with the attendant.

  I squeezed her back and silently thanked Doc with my eyes. He nodded once, concern bowing his brows. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes.

  Ava sobbed, holding onto my neck. When she let me go, I could see it on her face. Something else was wrong.

  “Your mom,” she cried, a web of saliva stretching from top lip to bottom.

  No. Not now. Please, no. If there’s a God, please no. I looked to Doc. He nodded once. I should have screamed or thrown something, but I was just tired; tired of dealing with everything. So I gently laid the keys on the counter, allowed Doc to handle the situation with the rental, and wheeled my bag out the automatic doors into the warm fall air. There had to be a cab here somewhere. Didn’t they just line up for this shit?

  “Where are you going?” Ava cried, running to catch up with me, Doc on her heels.

  “To the hospital, or Meg’s, or… I don’t know! Where do I go now?” I looked at Doc, unable to stop the tears again. “Where do I go?” Where did one go when a parent died? Did she die alone? Did she know I was sorry? That it wasn’t her fault? That I knew why she lied and I loved her for it?

  “You need to let me drive you home, Alexandria.”

  “Why are you here?” I snapped. What was in it for him? Money? A big fucking paycheck?

  “I am here because I care about you. You are more than just a patient. Believe it or not, you’re like a daughter to me. I never had children. My wife was unable to carry a baby to term, but I care. And whether you believe it or not, you are worth it. You are worth being cared for. You are worth people’s time and effort, Alexandria. Now,” he said, smoothing his shirt. “My car is this way.”

  Ava and I trailed meekly after Doc. “You’re worth loving, Lexie,” she whispered. I didn’t feel like I deserved any of it. I’d forgotten my own child. How did someone do that? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I pushed my mother away, the one who protected me from something I couldn’t handle. I pushed my sister away, the one who saved me in the first place. I pushed Arsen away, the one who might have cared for me in some way, the one who used to love Trinity when I was her. And did he ever love her. He loved her more than anything.

  And she loved him back.

  Because she believed that love was everything, that love could heal any horrific thing in the world, and that it was truly magical. Because with Arsen it was.

  I forgot the thread that was woven from his heart to mine and believed he was lying when he said it was there, that it was real. I fired Margaret—well, that was probably not a mistake. But Tally. Tally bug. I forgot her. My mind kept going back to her.

  How did I forget her?

  I let Doc take my bag and I eased into the back seat. Ava sat beside me, holding my hand in hers. The sun was coming up, its rays curving through the steel and glass jungle.

  Doc’s car was clean and smelled of sandalwood through a little air freshener vent clip. The tan leather was warm against my legs, but I couldn’t stop shaking.

  Ava squeezed my hand tightly. Doc’s eyes met mine in the rear view mirror.

  “Talk to me, Alexandria.”

  I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want my child to be in someone else’s home and for them to have all of her firsts. I didn’t want my mother to be dead or my father to be alive. I didn’t want any of this. “I forgot her.”

  “Natalia?”

  I nodded, wiping tears from my cheeks. “Who forgets their own child, Doc?” My voice cracked. It was hoarse and weary. How did one’s heart forget their other half?

  “Someone who suffered a traumatic brain injury.”

  I cried, “I need help figuring out what step to take next, Doc.”

  “I’ll help you. I promise to help you through this,” he vowed.

  “I will too, Lexie,” Ava told me, laying her head on my shoulder. Her face was streaked with red and her eyes were bloodshot, but they were filled with concern and love. Ava loved me. She always said it, but I could see it. I could see it.

  ***

  The preacher was kind. Evan had asked him to preach at Mom’s funeral. I’d never met him before the day of the funeral and neither had Meg, but Mom attended Sunday service when she felt up to it and had made friends with many of the people from her neighborhood. When she was too ill to cook and Meg was too busy... and I was being a complete asshole to her... they cooked extra pans of lasagna and brought them to her. They took her fresh fruit and vegetables, baked her bread and sweets. They visited her and befriended her. And these folks, strangers to me, hugged me and Meg like we were one of their own. Shaking our hands or hugging our necks, they told us what a wonderful woman our mom was, how she i
nspired them and how much she loved us.

  They had no idea how much she loved us. She loved me enough to give me a chance to heal, enough to give me a chance to live a life free of the scars that my father caused. And so did Meg.

  Meg married Evan right after she graduated high school, though she would visit us from time to time. Evan eventually went to college, but during those years they decided to get married and start their own family. Most people waited nowadays, but Evan and Meg wanted kids while they could keep up with them, before they became too tired and worn down by life to run alongside. But they had problems conceiving. Both were tested and Meg had some issues with one of her ovaries. Her chances of conceiving were low, the doctors said.

  So when the accident happened, it gave her the opportunity to have a child and it gave me the opportunity to be young and start anew. Mom said so in the letter she left me. What Mom didn’t say was how Meg had become pregnant with one son and then the other shortly after she agreed to take care of Natalia. She didn’t say how three children was too much, or how the crushing weight of holding such a dammed up flood of secrets could wear even a strong woman’s nerves so thin, she felt she would break at any moment, unleashing all hell.

  She didn’t say how Meg watched her baby sister live a life she wanted, oblivious to the horrors they once shared. Meg didn’t say how she felt more alone after the brain injury took away my memories of home, how it isolated and consumed her. The pain wasn’t just a case of postpartum blues; it was a symptom of lifelong trauma. An event could cause trauma, sure. But such deep scarring to a soul was the result of the brain being unable to forget and forcing a person to relive the worst, forgetting the best.

  My sister was melting down, not just because of rambunctious kids or depression. Her dam was breaking, and she was trying not to drown me with her.

  Megan’s dark hair was pulled up in a twist at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple black sheath dress, much like mine. Our heels were black and we wore the pearl earrings Mom gave each of us on our sixteenth birthdays. She wrung a tissue until someone noticed its shape and gave her a new one.

  Mom looked good. Her makeup was natural and her hands were folded over her stomach like she was taking an afternoon nap. Only it was eleven in the morning and she would never wake up from this slumber. She would never laugh, never see us set our lives right, and never hear my apology.

  Meg and I hadn’t spoken about Natalia. I would bring it up, but we needed to stand together right now. Now wasn’t the time to divide, and I was afraid the division would splinter us both—though it had to be done.

  Fear shone in her glassy eyes each time she glanced at me, which wasn’t often. The line was dying down and we would soon move to the cemetery just outside the church we sat in. When there were lulls in the crowd, I stared at the jewel-toned pieces of stained glass that stretched almost from floor to ceiling. Scenes depicted the birth, death, and resurrection, although my focus kept catching on death. My eyes kept producing tears. I couldn’t stop them any more than one could stop the earth from spinning around the sun.

  Meg couldn’t stop them either. Ava and Doc sat in the second row, just behind the seats that were reserved for family. Their presence was comforting when comfort should have been fleeting.

  When the funeral director approached and leaned in to whisper, “It’s time to close the casket if you’d like a moment with her,” Meg broke down and I caught her and held her up. Evan was by her side in an instant and I glanced at Ava, who was watching the kids. Ava nodded that she was good and I let Evan take Meg to say goodbye to Mom.

  How could a person say goodbye to someone they loved? It made no sense. In life, we are stars, orbited by others. To others, they are the star and we are the bodies orbiting them. Paths converge. Stars are born. Stars burn out. Our mother had dimmed and then faded completely black.

  Mom wasn’t orbiting anymore. She would never smile or laugh again. She couldn’t share her life with us. Save for her letter and the memories that kept trickling into my mind like a slow leak, I didn’t know her well. I didn’t know her story; only how her actions affected my own. It wasn’t fair. I needed time to know her better. What was her favorite color? Food?

  Though her letter explained a lot—it was a long letter—there were pieces of her I’d never see, and that was the saddest part of all. Her story wouldn’t be told in its entirety, because no one knew it all. Life prevented her from telling it, or else she refused to let tragedy see the light of day again. She wouldn’t be defined by it, and that very fact defined the sort of person she was.

  Mom was strong. She was everything I hoped to be one day. Because I was a mom, or would be again soon. And I would do anything to protect Natalia.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Compatibility

  Arsen

  Cynthia Smith was beautiful. She was driven; a hard-working marketing executive at a New York-based company that was garnering worldwide attention. She volunteered at homeless shelters on the weekend, and our political and religious views were identical. She had long, shiny hair, so dark it looked like midnight, so dark that she could never bleach it until it was nearly white. Her skin was tan and her beautiful long legs were like silk. Her smile was radiant and she was every man’s dream, everything I should want.

  We sat outside on the terrace of the restaurant, watching passersby, sipping white wine and talking about everything from our work week to our childhoods. But that was the problem. Trinity was there. She lived in my past and haunted most of my memories. This was our fourth date, and from the gleam in her eyes and the way she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs, she was interested in seeing how compatible we were in the bedroom. I just hoped the damn ghost would keep her distance tonight.

  Cody was pissed when he gave me Cynthia’s information. His words were clipped and his tone angry. “She wants to meet you.”

  I smiled. “Sounds good. Can you set it up?”

  His eyes blazed. “You’re sure about this? I have a feeling this is going to bite us both in the ass. Alexandria called again today.”

  “I won’t regret it. I’m sure.” I refused to even say her name out loud. It was the first step to forgetting both of her personalities.

  And I am sure.

  Cynthia brushed her hair back and took another sip from her glass. “Would you like to see my place?”

  I smiled, taking a drink from my own. “I’d love to.”

  We took a cab because her heels were hurting her feet, but Cynthia’s apartment was only four blocks away. She giggled, stepping out of the cab and grabbing my hand, pulling me toward the elevators. When the doors closed in front of us, she wrapped her arms around my neck and smiled before kissing me. And she felt good.

  She could help me forget for a while...

  ***

  I eased Cynthia’s arm off of my chest and slid out from beneath the sheets as I walked to the bathroom. Easing the door closed, I took a leak and then turned the shower on, staring at myself in the mirror as I gripped the sides of the pedestal sink.

  It wasn’t enough. She didn’t drive Alexandria’s ghost away. I made sure she got off and the sex was okay, but it wasn’t explosive and passionate. Because she wasn’t her. But no one would ever be her. I just had to get it through my mind that she was gone, that I didn’t want her, and that I couldn’t live with her twisted fucking lies for one more minute.

  The shower spray wasn’t nearly hot enough. The baby powdery scent of Cynthia’s perfume lingered even in here. It doesn’t smell like her.

  Maybe that was a good thing. How did a person move on, after all? One step at a time. Though some steps were smaller than others. Last night, Cynthia and I crossed a divide. The other steps from there forward would be smaller. The replacement of one scent of perfume for another, the sound of one woman’s laughter with another’s, the feel of one woman’s body replaced with that of another. Baby steps.

  I scrubbed my body until the water ran cold.

  ***
/>
  Alexandria

  There was never enough hot water to make the empty, cold feeling go away. Doc had been with us all day. Mom’s friends followed her to the grave, watched her casket descend, and listened to the words of the preacher. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust...” He committed her body to the ground and her soul to Christ before we threw red roses into the dark, earthen hole where she lay.

  At her house people brought food, and within an hour, the countertops were filled and the table overflowed. So did the refrigerator and freezer. I’d never seen so much food in my life. Luckily, Evan volunteered to run out and get disposable plates, cups, and cutlery. Then we asked everyone who’d brought the food to stay and eat it with us. There was enough to feed an army, and we would never be able to eat a quarter of it before it spoiled.

  Ava held my hand. Meg tried to avoid eye contact. Doc sat in the living room, a stoic figure, letting me know he was there if I needed him. And I did. I just needed his calming presence. I tried to text Arsen, to let him know that Mom had passed and I wouldn’t be returning to class. He never responded. I called his office and the receptionist took a message. He never called me back.

  When the people were full and the sky grew darker, the house began to empty. I heard the phrase, “I’m sorry for your loss,” a million times over and was about to scream when Doc grabbed my elbow and said he would help Ava and Evan clean up. “Go take a shower, or a hot bath and relax. Let the emotions go, Alexandria. Cry if you need to. Scream if you need to. It’s okay.”

  I swallowed and nodded, walking down the hallway. My overnight bag sat on her bed. I was angry at the bag. It had no right to sit where she lay. Snatching it up, I walked to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. Everything smelled like her. Mom liked the smell of lavender. Even her floor cleaner was scented with the purple flower. I could smell it everywhere, surrounding me like a warm embrace. My mother was in the ground, but she would never die. As long as we held on to as much of her as we could, even to something as seemingly insignificant as her scent, she would live on.