Page 50 of Good For Me

River

Idon’t know how I end up at the beach. I have no memory of driving here. All I remember is sitting in my Jeep, watching the waves crash out in the distance. The ocean is grey today, monstrous and loud as I step out of my vehicle and head down to the sand.

Of course it’s the same beach I brought Jas to that night. Apparently my subconscious is a masochistic asshole. I walk a ways down the sand, not wanting to sit close to any of the families that dot the beach, braving the shitty weather so their kids can build sandcastles.

I don’t think watching happy families is going to make me feel any better right now.

When I reach an emptier stretch, I sink down into the sand and immediately bring my head to my hands. What the hell am I going to do?

I’ll have to get a real job, for starters. I’m sure my dad could find something at the label for me to do. My stomach twists at the thought. They’ll probably stick me in an office somewhere, filing papers. I have no real skills or experience to do anything more meaningful. No one is going to give a screw up like me any responsibilities.

But that doesn’t matter. I’ll take the most boring job in the world if I have to. The days of me doing whatever the hell I want have come to an end. I laugh bitterly into my palms. It only took me twenty-three years to get here. Dad will be so proud.

Thinking of my dad brings on a whole new set of nauseating thoughts. I’m going to have to tell the family. I’m going to have to look my parents in the eye and tell them how badly I screwed up. I’m going to have to tell Ash that his big brother is an idiot who ruined a girl’s life. I’m going to have to tell my aunts and uncles. Fuck, I’m going to have to tell my grandparents.

I wonder if any of them will actually be surprised.

I don’t know how long I sit there, watching the waves. There’s a heavy layer of clouds in the sky, so I can’t track the movement of the sun. It could be afternoon or dusk. Not that it really matters. I don’t have anything to go home to. No one waiting for me, no one counting on me.

I could have found you if I wanted to, Jas had said. But she hadn’t. If I hadn’t walked into that diner last night, would she haveevertold me? Obviously she doesn’t see me as the kind of guy who could be any help in a crisis.

A wave of…something rises up in me. Anger. Frustration. Self-loathing. It’s all so overwhelming, a heavy weight on my chest, and I feel like I can’t breathe. I pound my fists into the sand, needing some kind of release, needing to let some of this out. I do it again, and then again, harder each time. It doesn’t help. I could pound my way straight through the earth and it wouldn’t take this away.

“What’d that sand ever do to you?”

I startle at the sound of my sister’s voice, but I don’t look up. “I don’t feel like company.”

“Too bad,” Rose says brightly, plopping down next to me. “I was getting worried about you.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t show up for Sunday lunch at Uncle Reed’s. I stopped by the house just now and Fox said he hadn’t seen you for hours. And you aren’t answering your phone.”

I don’t even know where my phone is. Probably in the Jeep. An increasingly familiar knot of guilt and fear settles in my stomach. What if Jas is trying to reach me?

Unreliable as ever, River Ransome.

“Hey.” Rose nudges me with her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t talk about it,” I say quickly, and Jasmine’s reasons for not telling me suddenly make a lot more sense. The thought of saying the words out loud makes me want to puke.

“It’s about that girl,” Rose says. Not a question. My sister knows me way too well. “Jasmine?”

I finally look over at her. She’s staring at the water and I wonder if she’s doing it on purpose. Like maybe she knows it will be easier for me to talk if I don’t feel her eyes on me. Sometimes it’s nice having a trained therapist for a sister.

“How’d you know her name?”

She rolls her eyes “You’ve mentioned her.”

“When?”

“Every time you’ve gotten drunk in the past three months, River. You tell me how she’s the only girl you’ve ever felt anything for and how much it sucks that she doesn’t want you.”

“Jesus,” I mutter, having no memory of ever saying that. “So everyone knows what a loser I am.”

She shakes her head, her long braid whipping in the cold wind. “Nah. You only ever say that stuff to me.” She does look at me now, and I stare into eyes that could be my own, they’re so similar. “And I would never tell anyone something like that. Besides, having feelings for someone doesn’t make you a loser.”

Maybe not, but ruining her life sure as fuck does.