Secrets On the Clock

by Nicole Disney

  “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

  “You’ve been sorry for years,” Callie said. “It’s time for you to stop being sorry. And it’s time for me to stop being so horrible to you.”

  “I should have never called you a—”

  Callie held up her hand. “Let me get this out real quick, okay?”

  Jenna exhaled until her lungs were empty and her muscles relaxed.

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “It did shake me up when you called me a bitch. Later, I realized that’s because you’re like a mom to me, and you’ve never done that before. When all this stuff happened with Mom…” Callie paused. “I’ve never seen you like that. It was like you couldn’t move, like you didn’t know what to do. You always know what to do. I knew I should feel like that too, but I didn’t. And I realized again, it’s because you were my mom. It’s different for me. I love her, but she doesn’t feel like a parent.”

  Callie paused to take a breath, but motioned for Jenna to continue waiting. “I don’t think I ever told you how much I appreciate you being that for me. I can’t imagine taking care of a kid now, let alone when I was thirteen. You are an amazing big sister.”

  “Thanks, Cal. I wish I could have been better.”

  “You know, after the accident with the fireworks, you were so upset,” Callie said. “I think you were more upset than I was. I wanted you to be okay, so I kept telling you I was okay. And then we both got better, and it didn’t seem right to bring it up, but I was angry. It started coming out in ways you didn’t deserve.”

  Jenna felt a tear roll down her cheek. She cried so much last night she wasn’t sure she could handle any more. Her face felt swollen and sensitive, and her eyes didn’t want to stay open.

  “Tina called me,” Callie said. “She wanted to talk about the Volkswagen and insurance and all that. She called me because it’s my car, but I didn’t really know anything about it. She thought that was weird, of course, and we got around to how I don’t use it and my scars. She says I need to talk to someone. I thought it was stupid at first, but then you and I fought, and it all started to fall into place. She’s right. I’m a mess. I don’t even know who my own car insurance provider is. It was embarrassing. Then when you were such a mess about Mom, it was the first time I ever felt like I could step up for you. So, I called the lawyer.” Callie sipped her coffee. “It actually felt really good to be the strong one for a second. It made me want to do more.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Cal. I’m so proud of you. And I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

  Callie hugged her, squeezing her tight and jostling her until she finally laughed, something she thought she wasn’t capable of anymore. Callie returned to her seat and interlaced her fingers.

  “So.”

  “What?” Jenna asked.

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Which it?”

  “Whichever one kept you out all night and had you coming home crying.”

  Jenna felt her cheeks flush. “You heard that?”

  “Of course,” Callie said. “And you look like shit. Something tells me it’s not just Mom.”

  Jenna felt her lips tighten into a sad smile. “I got too drunk last night,” she said. “Makes you emotional.”

  “Okay,” Callie said. “But about what?”

  “You don’t want to hear that stuff.”

  “Danielle?”

  Jenna nodded numbly.

  “I don’t get it,” Callie said. “If you love her so much, go get her. I know I screwed up work for you, but I meant it when I said I knew you could get a new job tomorrow. You could. If it’s making you that miserable not to be with her, forget the job.”

  “It wasn’t just that,” Jenna said. “There was a whole thing with her ex. Her roommate.”

  “She went back to her?”

  “No. I thought she did. Maybe. She…” Jenna stared at the table. “It’s complicated.”

  “I think I can follow.”

  “It doesn’t even matter,” Jenna said. “I tried last night. She’s not into it anymore.”

  “She said that?”

  “She said she can’t date an alcoholic.” Jenna heard the bitterness in her own voice.

  “What?” Callie said. “You’re not an alcoholic.”

  “I know.” Jenna sighed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Sounds stupid.”

  Jenna smiled and playfully swatted her. Callie beamed and dodged it as Jenna’s phone lit up on the table. She glanced at the caller ID and saw it was from work.

  “Jeez, here they go already.” Jenna picked up the phone. “Thompson.”

  “Hi, Ms. Thompson. I just wanted to pass on the message to you that Danielle won’t be coming in to work today. She asked me to get in touch with her supervisor directly since it’s such late notice.”

  “Danielle Corey?”

  “Yes, ma’am. She said she has to help her roommate move out. She said it was a sensitive situation that needed her immediate attention. She apologizes for the late notice.”

  “Oh.” Jenna was dumbstruck. “Uh, thanks, but she’s actually not on my team anymore. She’s been transferred. Chuck Borden is her supervisor now.”

  “Oh, gosh, really? They must not have updated it in the system yet. I’m sorry to bother you so early for nothing.”

  “No problem.”

  Jenna disconnected the phone and saw Callie gazing at her with comical intensity.

  “I heard that,” she said. “Your phone is way too loud.”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “Um, hello? Did you not just tell me the roommate was your other thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Roommate gone. Problem solved. Call her!”

  “It was the problem,” Jenna said. “I already got over that problem. She’s the one with the problem now, Cal.”

  “You’re telling me my beautiful, amazing, smart, charismatic sister got rejected and is just going to take it lying down?”

  Jenna laughed. “It’s complicated.”

  Callie rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not, Jenna.”

  Chapter Thirty-seven

  Danielle watched Brianna attempt to get all the makeup she’d fallen asleep in off her face. The dark smears from her eyeshadow were the war paint of a woman on a mission to self-destruct. They’d barely spoken a word to each other since their fight, and though Danielle had the ammo to go another round now that she knew Brianna lied to Jenna about the ring on top of everything else, she didn’t mention it. It wasn’t what mattered. It offered her clarity. It pushed her over the edge with Brianna, but would only serve as a crutch and distraction in her hands.

  With her face finally clean, Brianna emerged from the bathroom, heading for the kitchen. As she passed Danielle she paused, taking the eye contact they’d gone weeks without as an invitation.

  “Rough night?” Brianna asked.

  “Yeah,” Danielle said.

  “What happened?”

  “I decided you need to move out.”

  Brianna froze. She slowly turned to face Danielle, putting off the trip to the refrigerator. Instead, she came and sat by Danielle on the couch.

  “That’s a little drastic,” she said. “I’m really sorry for what I did, Danielle. I really didn’t think it would break you two up.”

  “Brianna.”

  “Okay, I did, but I’m sorry. I had a psycho jealous moment. I don’t even know why, Danielle. I don’t have the hots for you. I really don’t. I’ll make it right. I’ll talk to Jenna, whatever you want.”

  “It’s too late for that, Brianna.”

  “Don’t say that. We’ve been friends for years. We can get past this. Let me make it right.”

  “You did it because you were drunk,” Danielle said. “I know you don’t want me. You were drunk, and you did something impulsive.”

  “Exactly.”

  “But you’re always drunk, Brianna. It’s not about Jenna. You need help. You ca
n’t keep going on like this.”

  Brianna scoffed. “Oh, please! You think everyone’s a drunk! It’s just because you’re a saint and never touch alcohol.”

  “You pass out on the floor more often than you make it to bed.”

  “So?”

  “You need a drink the second you wake up, all day long, before bed. I’ve even heard you wake up in the middle of the night just to take a couple shots, then go back to sleep.”

  “That’s—”

  Danielle grabbed the duffel bag at her feet, turned it over, and let the dozens of empty vodka bottles she’d collected fall to the floor. The hollow plastic bottles plunked into each other and scattered. She’d been gathering them with this purpose in mind. She’d had no idea when she would actually use them, but after hearing Brianna had dared to lie to Jenna about her ring, she couldn’t wait another day. It wasn’t really any different than any of Brianna’s other lies, but it felt worse somehow. The ring felt sacred, and Brianna’s story felt like blasphemy.

  “I found these,” Danielle said. “All over the house. Did you know you had that many?”

  Brianna traced the scattered bottles across the floor. “But that’s from who knows how long.”

  “It’s a month’s worth.”

  “How—”

  “Because I cleaned out all your hiding places last month and threw them away.”

  “You’ve been keeping track?”

  “Yes,” Danielle said. “And these are just the ones you hide. Plenty more end up in the regular trash.” Danielle was careful to keep her voice even and soft. She didn’t want to make Brianna angrier than she had to.

  “It’s not as serious as you’re making it look,” Brianna said.

  “Why do you think you hide them?” Danielle asked. Brianna’s brow crumpled. “I know you drink a lot. You know I know. We’re not together; you don’t answer to me. So why hide them?”

  “I don’t know. I think I just leave them around when I’m drunk.”

  “They’re not just left around. They’re hidden, in backpacks you don’t use, in the vacuum cleaner bag, in the corners of the closet, behind the washing machine. You hide them when you’re drunk. I think it’s because you know it’s a problem and it’s hard for you to see how much you’re drinking. I think you’re hiding them from yourself, not me.”

  “Okay, Freud. What else?”

  “Nothing,” Danielle said. “I just think you need help, and I think that’s okay, but I’m not qualified.”

  “This is fucking bullshit. So, what, you’re throwing me out onto the street? You think that’s going to get me sober? You want to see me really drink just wait until you see that.”

  “I called a rehab facility. They have an opening, if you’ll go.”

  “Fuck no. I’m not going to fucking rehab. Just because you want to get rid of me and get your stupid girlfriend back? Fuck you.”

  Danielle put her hand on Brianna’s knee. “Brianna, I care about you. I really do. This isn’t about Jenna.”

  “Like hell.”

  “The way you acted with her helped me see how bad it’s gotten, that’s all, but I’m not trying to get rid of you for her, or at all.”

  “If you cared about me you wouldn’t do this.” Brianna’s anger dissolved, replaced by tears. “I don’t have anyone else, Danielle. If you abandon me, I’ll be alone.” The word abandon hit her square in the chest, and when she met Brianna’s expectant eyes, she realized it was designed to. Her blood drained. She’d been manipulated. For how long she couldn’t guess, but it stopped now.

  “Brianna, I’m not abandoning you. If you won’t go to rehab, I’ll have you evicted, and you will end up on the street. And our friendship will be over, but that’s not what I want. If you do this, you won’t be losing me. I’ll come visit you in rehab. I’ll call you to check in. I’ll support you through every step, and we can still be friends. But we can’t go on like this anymore. This drinking, it’s killing our friendship, and it’s killing you.”

  Brianna’s face was red and puffy. Danielle couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen Brianna so stripped down, so raw.

  “I don’t want to go.” Brianna sobbed. “Just give me another chance, I can quit on my own.”

  “No,” Danielle said. “You need help, Brianna. If nothing else, you need help to detox. It’s dangerous to just quit. Will you at least go there for that? Talk to them? Do that much. Then see how you feel.”

  Brianna shook her head more and more fervently as the tears came down. “Don’t make me do this. Don’t do this to me.”

  “Brianna, you’re like family to me. You were there for me when my real family wasn’t. I know you know that. And I know deep down somewhere you know I wouldn’t be a real friend if I let you let this kill you. Please let me take you to this place. They’re the best in the state.”

  Brianna put her face in her palms and started crying harder, but she slowly started nodding her head. Danielle rubbed her back.

  “Yeah?”

  “God!” Brianna sobbed. “Yeah! Fine!”

  Danielle smiled and stood up.

  “Now?” Brianna yelled.

  Danielle nodded. “Yes, before you change your mind.”

  “Can I have a last drink?”

  “Yeah,” Danielle said. Anything to just get her there.

  “And I need to pack.”

  “I packed a bag for you. You can only take a handful of things. They gave me a list and I took care of it.”

  “Are you fucking serious?” Brianna broke down into another wave of sobs.

  “It’s going to be okay.”

  Brianna went into the kitchen and grabbed her bottle of vodka. “Let’s go, then,” she said. “I can see you’re eager to get rid of me.”

  “It’s not—”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Let’s go.”

  Danielle grabbed the bag she’d packed for Brianna and followed her out the door. Brianna tipped the bottle to the sky and downed what was left of it. Danielle’s stomach turned watching her, but she didn’t say anything.

  The drive was silent. Brianna brooded, slamming her feet into the floor and crying every few minutes. Danielle pulled up front. When she looked to Brianna, her jaw was clenched, and her sadness had turned to anger.

  “I’ll walk you in.”

  “Fuck you.” Brianna opened the car door, grabbed the backpack, and slammed the door. In just a few long, angry strides, Brianna disappeared through the automatic doors.

  Danielle waited for a few minutes to make sure she didn’t come back. Brianna was almost never in her car, yet it felt empty without her after just the few minutes she’d been there. Part of her was afraid her apartment would feel hollow when she got back. She wondered if she’d get lonely in all that quiet. Her family was gone. Brianna was gone. Jenna was gone. But she felt tremendous relief all the same.

  Just as she pulled away, Danielle’s phone rang. She looked down and saw a number she didn’t recognize. She assumed it was the rehab center and answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Is this Danielle?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is Callie.”

  Several seconds passed as Danielle tried to process the words.

  “Hello?” Callie asked.

  “Yes, hi, I’m sorry. Is Jenna okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Callie said. “I mean, relatively. I mean, because of…” she paused. “I’m rambling. She’s fine. I wanted to talk to you if you have a second.”

  Danielle pulled away from the front of the rehab building and parked in the lot. “Sure.”

  “I wanted to apologize for the way I acted the night I met you,” Callie said. “I know it’s been a while, and you don’t even see my sister anymore, so I probably sound a little weird right now, but it’s been bothering me. I was so wrong to act that way toward you, and I’m really, truly sorry.”

  “Oh,” Danielle said. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d just rolled down a hill. She fel
t dizzy, like the world was just a swirl of colors.

  “It’s okay,” Danielle said. “You don’t need to torture yourself about it. I have pretty thick skin. It’s nice of you to call, though.”

  “Okay,” Callie said. Time drew out awkwardly, and Danielle searched for a way to end the conversation, but came up short.

  “I don’t mean to put my nose where it doesn’t belong,” Callie said. “I know you’re not even with Jenna now, but if you ever came by the house again or whatever, I just want you to know I wouldn’t be like that. Don’t let me be a reason to not come over.”

  “Did Jenna—”

  “She has no idea I’m calling.”

  “I see.”

  “It’s not like, a secret,” Callie added, her discomfort as obvious as Danielle usually felt hers was. “I owed you an apology.”

  “Consider it accepted.”

  “All right then,” Callie said. “So, uh, see you. I hope we see you.”

  “Right,” Danielle said. She’d already disconnected the phone by the time she realized that was probably an odd answer. She hated talking to people she didn’t know, on the phone even more so. As she sat in her car in the silence it sank in more and more. Things she should have said popped into her head, but it was too late. Callie had called her. Jenna’s sister. The same sister who hated her guts.

  She didn’t imagine Jenna was the type to push her to do that, and she didn’t imagine Callie was the type that could be pushed, so what had made her call? Had Jenna told her about the night before? Last she’d heard, Jenna and Callie weren’t getting along at all, so what could have made Callie want to do her a favor suddenly? Maybe it really did have nothing to do with Jenna.

  After her conversation with Jenna at the bar, she’d chosen to preoccupy herself with putting her foot down, with demanding excessive drinking take an immediate exit from her life, even if it meant losing Brianna. Even if it meant losing Jenna. She’d focused so much energy on finding a reputable rehab center for Brianna, working out how to present the opportunity, that Jenna had fallen to the back of her thoughts. But Jenna was always a force lingering in the back of her mind that would sooner or later hit like a sledgehammer, and it was happening now.