Look at You

Chapter 29

29

Craig's hair is longer, his stubble less manicured, his fingernails painted a deep, chipped navy. The flat brim he's wearing is one he's had since grade school, though. Volcom SK8.

I reach out across the bar and grip the hand he's holding out for me. He pulls me into his chest as close as he can before the bar gets between us. As we break apart, he grabs a dish rag and clears the gleaming wood in front of me.

It's taken me a few days to get in here. Rightfully so. I chose early on a weekday, where no one will bother me and better yet, no one will recognize me. Craig bartends like a dog and sleeps the rest of his days, so this is the only time I can see my only friend who still lives in Baker. He's promised me no one will say a word to me. And if they do, it'd be welcome home. I'm so desperate for social interaction outside of my rehabilitation group and Riley that I agree to come to O'Malley's. 30 minutes. That's all.

"You look amazing, kid," Craig says. "So healthy."

I roll my eyes but I feel a twinge of pride in my chest. I had been doing nothing but working on myself for a year. Inside and out. It felt good for someone to see that. "Yeah, well. No other choice, right?"

"How was the last month? I'm sorry I hadn't gotten there—"

"No," I wave him off. "You've done plenty." He had. He was a regular visitor, once a month or every other month, just to remind me I still had someone. Besides Katie once, Craig and Riley were the only two who found their way to me the past year. My grandpa's old law partner, Riley's dad, was nearing the end of his life at a hospice center for the better part of two months. He hadn't been up to travel in about two years, otherwise, he'd have been there every week too.

"How have you been? How was leaving?" Craig leans toward me, resting his elbows on the bar.

"Fine," I shrug. "Finn's been out for a month now, so I'm eager to see him again."

Finn was my roommate. I had watched him come in for a 45-day stint, leave with a renewed gleam in his eyes, and come back sunken-eyed two weeks later. He was a country singer. A good one, with over a million streams on his latest album. His poison was usually booze, but the second time around, he had gotten a hold of the stronger stuff. He left stronger though, too.

"And Katie?" It's customary for Craig to ask me about her, because what else have I been doing that's worthwhile conversation?

I shake my head. After the fight and the trial, we had called it quits. She was still in college at
Ohio State and I was too much for her. She made regular calls and a visit because she wasn't the worst person in the world, but she knew when I was getting out. And the calls seemed to grow less frequent toward the end, instead of the opposite.

"Nothing."

Craig pretends to be shocked for my benefit. "Shit. Seriously?"

I swig a sip of the water he's set in front of me. I shrug. "Don't care, really. We were never it, you know."

It. Craig and I used that word a lot. Growing up together since elementary school, the two of us understood each other. We had the same moral compass, the same shitty parental circumstances. We wanted more for ourselves. We wanted it. A next-level love. A build-a-home-and-make-a-family love. A drop-everything-and-run love. An I'll-give-up-my-dreams-for-yours love. The love we hadn't known growing up.

Neither of us was any closer to finding it than that seventh-grade night we spent dreaming it up, two sleeping bags in grandpa's backyard counting all the stars.