Shortcake

by Lucy Watson

If you ever happen to see a vertically-challenged brunette wandering aimlessly in a mall parking lot while yelling at herself, don’t call the cops. It’s just me trying to find my car.

I’m wearing flannel pajama bottoms and Greg’s favorite Harvard T-shirt. He got our friends and the condo in the divorce; I got an old T-shirt with holes. Yay, me.

“I hate you,” I whisper on a harsh breath, meaning every word. “Sleep tight, shortcake.” I can actually hear his grin. Bastard.

“You mean Derek? He’s actually my cousin.” My asshole cousin who has currently abandoned me… “On your mother’s or father’s side?” “Umm… my father’s,” I answer, not wanting to go into the whole his-mom-married-my-uncle-when-he-was-ten spiel. “Then it doesn’t count.” Did she just say it doesn’t count? I have no words. “It only counts if it’s on your mother’s side.”

I should have emailed him about Rose’s condition. I shouldn’t have promised Rose I’d keep her secret. I should have given him a chance to say goodbye. I stole that from him. From his family. I told him he didn’t deserve her. I actually told this broken man he didn’t deserve his Grammy Rose. I said that. Me.

imagine Ben being sentimental about anything… it probably contains a lock of hair from his first victim or something. What’s worse than being in a car with a possible serial killer? Sitting with that possible serial killer in complete silence, that’s what.

We lock eyes for a second, and I can feel the exact moment realization hits us. We both abruptly turn forward in our seats. He feels it too. Rose. After a long moment, he ejects the tape.

You know it’s a bad day when peeing your pants in front of a stranger doesn’t sound so bad. I guess, after spending the day with a guy you hate, who hates you back, and thinks your family motto is, Incest is Best, Put Your Cousin to the Test—not much does.

I’d leave you for that. No way.” He shrugs. “We’re all dealing with shit, some more, some less, but we all got something.”

His eyes turn to the wall. “Alright.” His white teeth roll over his bottom lip. “When you thought I had the flu, I was detoxing off oxy. Should’ve stopped that shit months ago.” He sighs and takes a sip of tea.

Falling a little deeper, I build a Game of Thrones-sized wall around my heart, giving orders to the Night’s Watch, Jon Snow included, that none shall pass, especially none named Ben.

His grin spreads. “You could wear a potato sack, and you’d still look fucking gorgeous. Don’t worry.”

“Why do you think?” He smirks. “He’s fucking crazy about you.”

“My sister will always love Ben, but she is in love with Milly. This is the happiest I’ve ever seen her.” His sarcastic mask drops as he continues, “Ben went through some dark shit after his mom died. He turned to Katie, who was going through her own shit, and they went through that shit together. It wasn’t love like it should be, but it was pain and sometimes that feels just as real.”

I flip it over to see my name, then tear it open and pull out a grey T-shirt. I hold it up, and my breath catches because looking back at me in all his malformed glory is none other than… Sloth from The Goonies. A laugh bursts from my chest. My heart swells. My soul feels like it could float us to the ceiling if I let it.

Turns out, “Carl” is really Steven Cole, aka Slick Steve, a drug dealer on the run from Nevada who apparently cheated on the wrong woman, hence the anonymous tip that included his license plate and GPS location. I guess they won’t be going to Disneyland after all.

“Because I’m all fucked up if you haven’t figured that out.” He runs a hand through his thick hair, his chest rising and falling. “Because I’m ready to fucking kill whoever put those marks on your body. Fucking end whoever touched you like that.”

Only one is a wanderer. Two together are always going somewhere. Travel well, Sweet Benny. Take good care of each other. Love always, Grammy Rose “She gave me you, too,” Ben says, his voice thick with emotion.