Page 87 of Sunset Catchers

Levi reaches over the narrow table, swiping at a tear on my cheek, mid-roll.

“Don’t cry, Win.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m an ugly crier.”

He sighs at that. “Who told you that?”

“My mirror.” He snorts. “I’m sorry. It’s a lot. I’m a lot.”

I told him before, but now, he can see that it’s true. And I’m worried suddenly that it’s too much for him. I did give him a warning, but it’s one thing to be told about what a natural disaster I am and to witness it, to be in the middle of it. But it’s Levi. My worry disappears as quickly as it comes.

“No, it’s not,” he says. “You’re not. I just…I can’t handle seeing you so devastated.”

He might as well reach over to grip my heart and squeeze it with his bare hands. I blink the last tears left behind, taking a few deep breaths to try and pull myself together. At least the diner is mostly empty. Late afternoon is not prime time for lunch break, so there aren’t too many witnesses to my meltdown.

“What’s the purpose of calling you, though? She didn’t ask how you were doing or a single thing about yourself.”

“She calls me to gloat. To prove that she survived. That, even though once upon a morning twenty-eight years ago, I sank her ship, she found her way back to shore. She made it out, and she made it better. She’s cruising through life again.”

My mother should be a spoke person in survival, hosting lectures on how you can have a second chance at life. How you can discard your first attempt and try again and end up with everything you’ve ever wanted.

“That’s fucked up, Winnie.”

Levi’s words echo those that my best friend has uttered to me with the same anger, more times than I care to count and recall through the years. It is fucked up. The thing, though, with having a dysfunctional relationship with my mother is that it doesn’t matter how wrong and unfairly she treats me, I still crave any crumbs of attention she gives me. As do any child with their parents. It’s intrinsic to every human. I despise myself for it, yet I can’t. Fucking. Stop. Even if my mother’s calls are the detonator me for my cycle of meaningless hook-ups.

While she calls me to reiterate how much she doesn’t want me in her life, I turn around and find guys that make it all too obvious how much they want me.

Shit, is that why I kissed Levi? Did I simply put on an old pair of shoes I thought I’d outgrown in my need to run away from these heavy feelings?

No. Well, maybe a little?

But it’s different with Levi. There are ties between us that go beyond physical attraction. But still, even if I want to stay clear of worn and overused paths, I am feeling too raw right now, to know for sure. I don’t want to do that to him. To use him. In any way. I’d hate myself even more if I did.

“I’m sorry.” My attention snaps to Levi, who’s looking an insane amount of guilty. My energy is so depleted; I don’t even feel the familiar tingle of satisfaction at hearing an apology.

“What for?” I ask.

“For answering that call. It was an honest mistake, but still I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, Levi. I know you didn’t mean to. She’s been calling for weeks. I was a day away from giving in.”

“You could just block her,” he suggests, not knowing that Junie has been trying to make me do it for years now.

“I know,” is all I answer. If I blocked her, how would I know if she keeps calling?

My emotional bandwidth feels stretched to the max. I need to give my mind and heart a break, to catch my breath. There is one last thing, though, I should put out there.

“About that kiss.” A knowing dread slips over Levi. “It’s probably for the best if it doesn’t happen again.”

“You kissed me,” he states.

“I know. I won’t be doing that again.” He winces. “I’m just an emotional mess right now. I don’t want to treat you unfairly.”

“I don’t regret it, but I understand.” Of course, he does. I almost wish he wouldn’t. That he would argue with me about this. But he’s too damn decent. I’m pouting now, feeling dejected.

I slide my foot to bump his own under the table.

Bump. Bump. Still friends?