She Never Said Goodbye

Chapter Twenty

Monica righted her dress strap that had slid down her shoulder again. Jane stood in the same spot. Scout felt as if their stolen kiss under the stars was a bad thing. She had felt it was a very good thing just seconds prior.

"Hey, Jane," Monica's voice squeaked. She could never get her voice to mirror how she wanted others to hear her.

"Hey," Jane said vacantly, slowly approaching the girls as she lit her cigarette. As the flame shot up in the night air, Monica felt worry burn within her.

She wasn't as close to Jane as Pearl was, but she could read her well enough. Even when Jane tried to play things off as if everything was cool, there was still an air of tension hanging above her. Just like the times Eric would say something crass or sharply opinionated.

"Your set was nice," Jane breathed out her smoke and eyed Scout up and down.

Scout shoved her hands down into her pockets and stole a needy glance at Monica. "Thanks. I thought it was kinda lame, but everyone seemed to enjoy it."

Monica felt Scout's words lacked the brilliance they held before they were caught. "I thought your set was really nice, too."

"Well," Scout's thumb dug into a dip in the bricks next to her. "I should be getting back inside now. Y'all be safe tonight."

It was so quick and urgent, it almost could've been missed, but Monica caught Scout's eyes looking into hers. Wondering where their kiss could have gone if Jane had not come outside.

"You, too," said Monica.

"Bye," Jane wiggled her fingers as she waved.

The bar door screeched open and shut.

"What was that all about?" Jane stubbed out her cigarette with her heel.

Monica felt exposed. "I don't know." It wasn't a lie.

"You've had too much to drink?"

"I think so."

Jane nodded her head and went back in the pizza place. Monica followed her, looking over her shoulder before entering the restaurant.

🖤🖤

"Good night, girl. Get you some," shouted Pearl from the passenger seat of Jane's car.

The effects of alcohol on Pearl were both long-lasting and rejuvenating. When others would be crying, starting a fight, kissing girls in the night, or falling into oblivion, Pearl would be the one fluttering around with bright eyes, laughter, swaying hips and raunchy jokes.

Monica waved to her friends as they drove away. She went up the stairs to her third floor apartment. Her feet and shoulders felt ten times heavier than usual. Once she was inside her home, surrounded by the dim light from the kitchen, her eyes welled up with tears. She flung her purse off her shoulder and threw it on the floor. She clawed her jacket off and threw it on the floor, too.

She had to muffle her cries, though. Owen was fast asleep in the other room. The door was open. She could hear whispers from a program and see the glow of their television shrink and swell against the wall of the hallway.

Never had she felt this way before all at once. Stupid. Vulnerable. Ashamed. Tired. Breathless. Irritated. Lonely.

Only one image calmed her.

Astrid. Her hair falling past her bare shoulders. The light of the sun swimming in the blue of her eyes. Those eyes. That face. Delicate. Pleasing. Grounded. Infinite.

Tears kept falling, but she knew she couldn't sit on the living room floor all night. She took her dress and flats off. She laid next to Owen in bed as carefully as she could. She didn't want to wake him. She didn't want to have to lie to him with her body. Not this night.

She wasn't made of rock. She was made of dust. 

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