We both stand there. Silent. Staring at her, a crumpled mess on the floor.
My mom looks up at Scott, absolutely horrified. Like he flung her into all this, intentionally banged her up. As if she’s some innocent victim of abuse. But he’d never do that. He’s not that kind of man. Then she looks at me. I cross my arms and tower above her, unmoved by her pathetic gaze. Instead of helping her up, or picking up the glass, or yelling at Scott, I walk out of the kitchen. Because I sort of think she deserves it. And I’m kind of glad Scott is here to put her in her place. Because I can’t lift her up anymore.
Thirty-Seven
Eric sees my swollen lip the moment I walk into his office, even though I tried to cover it with lip gloss and kept my hair dangling down in front of it. “Whoa. What happened to you?”
“Got in a fight.” I throw my backpack and jacket on the floor and plunk down into my chair. I tell him what happened. How it wasn’t my fault. How this girl just came up to me and caused shit because she was jealous of Fortune and me.
“How serious are you with Fortune?”
“Not.”
“You’ve been seeing him awhile.”
“A few weeks. But not serious.”
“How badly did you hurt her?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t stick around to see. I caused her damage, I’m sure. But nothing permanent.”
“And how do you feel about that?”
Please. “Are you asking if I feel bad?”
“I’m just asking how you feel about it.”
“Well, I don’t feel bad, because she’s the one who got up in my face. She asked for it. I don’t randomly go and beat up people, you know? And if you get up in someone’s face, you better be ready to accept the consequences.” I start to get angry, because I don’t get why I have to justify myself to him. “Why do you care about her? She rushed me. What, you think she gives a shit about me? She thought she could take me. She was wrong. And if she did kick my ass, she wouldn’t feel bad either.”
“It’s hard for me to accept that there isn’t any feeling when you hurt someone. You’re not a robot. Is there anything at all that doesn’t sit right with you?”
“Well. Maybe if I sat and forced myself and made it come out of me, maybe it would be there. But right now …” I pause and look up into my head as if searching my brain, “… there’s nothin’.” I shrug my shoulders. “Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize.”
“You want me to feel bad. I don’t. That’s just life sometimes. Girls can be bitches. What am I supposed to do? Let her punch me in the face?”
“Of course not. Let me ask you this, without you jumping to conclusions. This is not the first physical altercation you’ve had with a girl. In no way do I think you bring on these fights. But I get the feeling that they are often about the same thing: guys. And that’s one of the things that will happen if you have many partners who have many partners. Why do you think she wanted to fight you?”
“Because I’m with Fortune.”
“And so is she?”
“So she says.”
“Is it possible?”
“It’s possible.”
“Well, Fortune is a lucky guy to have two women fighting over him. So, is it possible that the one you should both be mad at is Fortune? Not each other?”
I think about this a second. Sometimes he makes me feel like an idiot. “Probably.”
“So tell me again, why are you not mad at him?”
“I am,” I say.
Thirty-Eight
I am mad at Fortune.
Even before I came over to AJ’s apartment, I was pissed. And it’s like I’m trying to find a reason to fight. I know it’s crazy, but everything Fortune does and says lately is just plain wrong. Part of the reason is that girl at the party, but it’s also because now that I’m almost sure there’s no hope of Michael coming back to me, I can no longer look at Fortune as a distraction. Now it’s like he’s actually a boyfriend, and that makes all his bad points stand out even more.
I just can’t bring myself to be nice. I’m a royal bitch, but instead of calling me on it, he just ignores me and chills with four of his friends, who are all gathered around the television watching a football game. Which makes me smoulder in