Love, Milo

Five days have gone by since I found out Jenna’s in town.

Each day that passed inches buried me deeper and deeper in my guilt; my mind raced while I worked in the mornings. It raced while I sat beside my sick mother; she knew something was wrong, and she always did, but I couldn’t tell her and give her more problems on top of her sickness. It wouldn’t be fair to her. My mind raced as I held Raelynn close at night, crawling within her head and protecting her each time she closed her eyes. I close my own now. It’s tiring; this brain carries the secrets that could take everything from me. It’s tiring of racing.

‘Milo,’ Logan says, sitting beside me as I gouge down my third shot of Whisky. ‘Why’d you call me here, man? You know I’m all for getting pissy drunk, but-‘ he laughs, ‘you’re the last person I expected to call me.’

Lowering the glass, the clank meets my ear. Why did I call him?

The last time I saw Logan was when I kicked him out of my mother’s house. I haven’t spoken to him since. Till the sting of this Whisky met my tongue and my tired brain fell out of my bloody head.

I shrug, raising a finger at the bartender, who looks over and nods, readying my fifth shot. ‘Maybe I wanted to rekindle our broken friendship.’

Logan snorts. ‘Right, and I date Beyonce. You’re drunk as shit, let’s go.’ Standing up, he puts a hand on my shoulder, and I aggressively shrug him off me.

‘Fuck off then. I’m not going anywhere.’

A long breath leaves his nose, and he sits back down just as the bartender drops another shot before me. Logan grabs it and throws his head back, the liquid dripping down his throat. I glare at him after he swallows, and he raises his hand. ‘I’m broke. If you expect me to stay here and listen to your British ass have a bitch fit sober, you’re so wrong, buddy.’

‘Go ask my dear dad for money,’ I mutter. ‘Better yet, steal it from him. I’m sure he won’t mind.’

Logan taps his tongue against the roof of his mouth. ‘It was seven years ago.’

I turn to look at his slouched figure, and my jaw clenches. If he says that shit one more time, I might lose it.

‘Seven years, and my dad’s still blackmailing me. Seven years, yet I’m still paying for what you did.’ My voice stays low and calm. I’ve never been a terrible drunk; holding my liquor has never been a problem for me. I shake my head as the bartender lowers a replacement of the last shot before me. This time I scoop it up and drink it before Logan can.

‘Blackmailing you? What the hell are you talking about?’ He pushes his hair out of his eyes. ‘Don’t you have a girlfriend somewhere or maybe… I don’t know, children to teach. It’s-‘ He checks his phone. ‘-ten in the God damn morning,’ he says as if just now realizing how early it is. ‘And you’re here getting your ass wasted on a Friday. I thought something might happen to you when you called, but nooo.’

‘How do you know my job?’ I called out sick today. What harm can be done? They’re in first grade. They can go a day without painting their hands to put on paper.

‘Why is that the only thing focused on out of all that?’

‘Jenna’s back in town,’ I drop, rubbing my finger over the rim of the shot glass. ‘That’s why I’m here.’

His silence and the soft music fill the bar. Not many people are in here at this time of day other than alcoholics and men drowning in guilt.

‘Jenna,’ He repeats with an inhale. ‘Fuck.’

I nod once. ‘Yes, the one you fucked. Glad you remember.’

Logan points at me. ‘The one who poked your condoms.

I look at him, and he continues speaking, ‘That’s right, I remember everything you tell me.’ He looks at me.

For several seconds, we stay challenging each other attention span, his blue eyes squinting, and the staring contest is broken with his blink and our soft chuckles.

‘You’re a son of a bitch,’ I shake my head.

He slaps my back. ‘Yeah, I am, actually. And you’re a petty mother fucker with daddy issues.’

I don’t have the mental capacity to be angry at him right now. The alcohol flooding through my veins, slightly blurring my visions and making me concentrate on my words a little harder so I don’t slur, takes over for the most part.

In all, though I’d never admit it to him, he’s right, it was seven years ago, and no matter how much I want to blame him—anyone—for how shit my life is becoming at the moment, it doesn’t change the fact that my father has always hated me. The stolen money was just a valid reason he found to hurt me.

Holding Jenna sleeping with my best friend over him for so long was just my way of getting even with Logan. I don’t give a shit that he slept with her.

‘I am,’ I admit.

He laughs shortly. ‘Two peas in a fucking pod. It’s alright, bud. It’s alright.’ The nickname goes way back. He always seemed to come up with the strangest ones. Buddy was one I despised, though. He said it solely to tick me off, but after a few years of hearing it constantly, it stuck.

The bartender, a woman that I haven’t really taken a second look at, comes over with another shot, two.

‘Life gettin’ to you boys?’ She grins widely, a southern accent lacing her words, sliding the glasses towards us.

Logan says, ‘Oh, you’ve got no idea.’

He clicks his teeth, wraps his fingers around the glass, and holds out his other hand to introduce himself.

‘Logan.’ She shakes her hand and voices her name, which I can’t seem to care a bit about right now.

I wonder what Raelynn is up to, whether a raccoon is giving her trouble like the one those weeks ago. Or if business is going well for her shop today. I should stop by soon and surprise her with my kisses. What do you buy a woman who owns a flower shop? Surely, she doesn’t want more flowers; she has them at her disposal.This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

Pickles… She loves those things. Love. What else does she love? Who else. The possibility of my Raelynn falling in love with me both turns me on and frightens me.

My eyes close, and I take a deep breath, gripping my hair and groaning internally. I need to tell her.

The fairly young woman behind the bar taps my hand, and I look up at her. She has red hair, curly and in a ponytail. ‘Did ya’ hear me, cutie? I asked what’s your name?’

I shake my head. ‘I have a girlfriend.’

She grunts sadly. ‘The cute ones always do.’

Logan throws his hands up in the air. ‘Hel-fucking-lo?!’ He exclaims. ‘What’s that supposed to mean, Kristal-with-a-k? Hmm? I’m cute and single.’

She shrugs. ‘Sure.’

He grabs his shirt as if offended. ‘Y’know someone once said Kristal sounds like pure class. Tell me, are your pure class, Kristal?’

‘Excuse me?’

Kristal, as Logan called her, spoke for several minutes, Logan inevitably giving me secondhand embarrassment every time he opened his mouth. The conversation ends with a piece of paper with Logan’s number in her bra. He turns to me with a smile filled with accomplishment even though I’m a hundred percent sure this woman isn’t calling him back.

‘So back to it,’ He drinks. ‘How’s bubblegum?’

‘Who?’

‘Your girl. Bubblegum.’ Weird ass nicknames, as usual.

‘It’s Raelynn, and she’s fine. The problem is with Jenna,’ I paused, sighing. ‘We’re engaged.’

‘What?’

I tell Logan what’s going on, under it all, thankful that I have someone to talk to about it, even if it is my ex-best friend. He listens, and that’s all I need right now. For someone to listen.

‘Shit, you need to tell her,’ he says, ‘Like ASAP, or this is gonna end in a shit show of screams and sad words, I’m telling you.’ He warns me with more concern than I thought he would have, stealing my drink again. ‘I didn’t know your dad was still fucking you over this much, man.’

He shakes his head, continuing, ‘I stopped speaking with him, Y’know. After the party where you punched the shit out of me? Yeah, I felt like shit.’

I ignore his comment about my father, not wanting to speak about him. ‘How do I tell her something like that? That I’m engaged, and I have been for this long. That I’m set to get married.’

Logan shrugs and hums an ‘I don’t know’ so much for his help. Getting off the stool, feeling myself sway a bit, I decide it’s best to get the hell out and on my way. Whatever I do, I need to do it soon. Morgan is running out of patience, and I’d never forgive myself if he messes with my mother’s surgeries or touches Raelyn’s things. Never.

My phone on the bar counter dings as I dig in my wallet to pull out money for the onslaught of drinks I must pay for.

‘Hey, uh, Bud,’ Logan clears his throat.

‘What?’ I mutter, looking down at my wallet.

‘I think you got much bigger problems ahead of you…’

I look up from my wallet. ‘What are you talking about?’

Dropping a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and putting a glass over it, I look at Logan holding my phone. Before I can shout at him for reading my messages, he turns the phone to me and my body freezes.

On the screen is a picture of Raelynn; she holds flowers in her hand, her hair in braids that end at her hip, and a large grin on her face. but what makes my blood run cold and my heart twist is the woman beside her.

Jenna. A grin just as wide on her face.

I snatch the phone from Logan.

He whistles and says, ‘You’re in deep fucking shit.’

I read the message from Raelynn below the picture with my girlfriend and my alleged ‘fiancée’:

Rae: Guess what!

Rae: I’ve hired a new employee today at work. Her name’s Jenna. Super sweet, too. I think I just made my first REAL friend. Anyway, how’s work going?