From the writer of Sweet Spot, comes the sequel of two familiar characters you already saw coming.
Harper Davis has many titles: marketing connoisseur, almost-lawyer, disappointment to parents, and most importantly: liar. Big. Fat. Liar. But what el...
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Whish. Whish. Whish.
Uh-oh. I smack the dish spoon on the edge of the pot to get rid of the excess sauce and set it down, making a run for it.
Whish. Whish. Whish.
"Mao!" I call out, ducking my head under every space trying to locate where he is. It's a one bedroom studio with a walk in closet. Where could he possibly be? "Don't do it!"
Whish. Whish. Whish.
"Damn it, Mao!" I groan just as his body does a couple of more jerks and he makes a hacking sound, letting it all out. "On the freaking carpet?!"
He straightens up, shaking like a dog drying himself off, and licks the mouth he just puked out of. So nasty.
I growl low in my throat and run back into the kitchen to grab a paper towel. I wet it briefly in the kitchen sink and dash back to where I found him under my desk because I know what's coming next.
"You little turd!" I screech, catching him in the act as he sniffs his vomit and draws closer to it. "Don't even think about eating it!"
He yowls at my arrival and scampers out of the room. A second later I hear the familiar sound of him scratching the walls in anger. I groan again and crawl under my desk, wiping the puke while holding my breath and trying not to gag at the food chunks I can see in them.
"Yeah, well, not everyone can turn to home destruction when they're pissed off!" I call to the sounds of scratching. "If that was the case, I'd have destroyed this roof over our heads a long time ago!"
And it's true. The past couple of months have been brutal. No one warned me that when you're trying to heal and become a better person it means completely breaking down who you are. It means feeling the pain before you can heal and how that makes you want to heal even less.
I appreciate all my sessions with Janet and how much I've learned so far but she truly leaves no stone untouched. She questions everything I do and why I do it and all that's done is make me realize how not okay I've been this whole time. That's an uncomfortable reality to sit with.
It doesn't help that I miss my friends like crazy. That I miss Sawyer like crazy. I even feel even more neglected than before because I haven't gotten a single phone call from my mother. I get that in hindsight it's a good thing but it also reminds me that she meant never speaking to me again. That she meant I'm not her daughter anymore.
I'm basically an orphan whose parents are still alive. Fun, right?
We're both the richest poor people anyone will ever meet.
I find myself wearing a smile as I clean off the last of Mao's puke. I really, really miss Sawyer. His jokes during the crappy times. His laughter during the serious times. And his presence during the worst times.
