🥊 Hate or Fate 💕 {Enemies to Lovers}

.31.

"Wow," Rebecca's eyes were so bulged with rage it was almost funny. "Fucker doesn't even begin to cover it. And her name is Kayla? What questionable gentleman's club did he pick her up at?"

"Because so many strip clubs are above-board establishments?" I cackled drunkenly while slovenly wiping my mouth with my sleeve. "Whatever. He's her problem now, not mine!"

"That's right!" Rebecca slurred, dropping another globule of vanilla bean ice cream into my alcoholic float. "He's her problem! Thank you, next!"

"Oh! Let's listen to that please!" I exclaimed, pointing a woozy finger at Rebecca's laptop speakers.

"You got it!" Rebecca crowed, adding the perfect Arian Grande song to the soundtrack playing throughout our stupendous drinking binge. "Good riddance to bad sex!"

I dissolved into giggles while adjusting the powder pink thong resting on my scalp like a flimsy lace tiara. Rebecca had used two of my new underpants to fashion herself a very fetching headscarf patterned in hearts and stripes.

Who knows why the hell we opened up my underwear shipment and immediately put it on our heads? And if we decided to do that while listening to R&B and drinking boozy ice cream floats, that was our prerogative.

Who knew why any of us crazy animals do what we do?

If I was experiencing some sort of heartbreak-induced breakdown, I was leaning into it.

Maybe I'd buy myself a couple of cats and call them my babies to gird my loins for the rest of my natural life. That seemed as good a plan as any.

"We need more Taylor Swift songs!" I hooted.

I'd already had two booze floats. That was already too many.

"Definitely," Rebecca closed one eye and pointed at me with purpose. "You know, your man problems will evaporate as soon as you start wearing those thongs on your cute butt instead of your head."

"These panties don't even have enough material to cover my palm," I marveled, pulling the delicate silly string off my head. "And yet, they cost more than the shoes I'm wearing."

"That says more about you than your clothes," Rebecca laughed until her boobs were shaking like a Jell-O mold in an earthquake.

She had a point. I was usually so frugal and sensible. I rarely made decisions without agonizing over the choices. I had a plan of approach for everything, including how to plan my life. I rarely gave in to capricious whims, unless it involved cake or double-fudge-anything.

"How come it's so easy for him to move on?" I crabbed while fishing for my silly straw with my frozen tongue.

Then again, hadn't I moved on, sort of, with his best friend?

"Because he did it way before you guys broke up," she reminded me, "and he'll do it again. To her. They always do."

Rebecca waited for her words to sink into my fuzzy brain.

If that were true, did that mean my mom had destroyed another family after ours? Did she cheat on the guy that she'd cheated on my dad with? Poor bastard probably never saw it coming, I know my dad didn't.

"My mom was a cheater," I nodded. "She wasn't even creative about it, she slept with his best friend."

"Oh, wow," Rebecca's mouth formed a heart-shaped hole at her surprise. "You never talk about your mom, chica. My dad? He cheated on my mom."

"No way!" I chuckled darkly, sobering up quickly with the subject matter. "What a terrible thing to have in common!"

"Right?" Rebecca arched one brow with the grace of a movie star. "What's worse? My mom took him back. He promised he'd never see the other woman again, but he was a lying dog. Instead, he started seeing another woman. So, he was cheating on my mom and his other lover!"

"Oof!" I exhaled. "So, he cheated more than once?"

"Let's just say, he was a habitual offender," Rebecca rolled her eyes and waved her hand as if bidding him Adieu. "Once my mom forgave him? It was like open season."

"What happened?"

"Well, like, after the seventeenth time she caught him, she smartened up and had her brother change the locks on the apartment," she looked as though she were reliving it in her memory. "My mom raised five daughters on her own, working three jobs because my dad was a sleazeball who couldn't keep it in his pants, or keep a job, or stay sober."

"She should be nominated for sainthood."

"She would agree," Rebecca giggled pointedly. "I'm just saying, be thankful you found out about Elijah before you married him or you got knocked up!"

"Do you ever talk to your dad?" I couldn't help myself.

Dads were a subject that I strictly forbade when I was sober. It was a minefield of emotional triggers that had been itching for years to explode.

My long-distance running, and my ability to organize around my pain, meant I was really, really good at compartmentalization. However, with all my senses dulled and the news of Elijah's budding relationship still burning in my ears, I wasn't feeling so good at anything.

"Yeah, he comes around like once a year to wish me happy birthday and give me his excuse for not buying me a gift."

"He sounds nice," I smiled half-heartedly.

Maybe having a dad around wasn't so great after all?

"He's a mess, but he's my dad," she shrugged. "What about your dad? What did he do after your mom cheated with his best friend?"

"He left her and took me to Washington," I told her, using every ounce of my sober strength to keep it together. "She didn't even fight him for custody or visitation, as far as I know."

"Wow," Rebecca's jaw hung slack. "Some people just don't deserve to be parents. You know what I mean? Don't worry, chica, you've got me, and I'll never cheat on you and neither will ice cream. Thank you, ice cream."

I don't know why, but her casual declaration of unconditional love unmoored me. Hot tears spilled over my lashes to tumble down my cheeks as my breath hitched.

"Oh no!" Rebecca fawned, checking to see if I was physically hurt. "What did I say? I'm sorry, honey! I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"No, no, no," I hiccupped and stuttered as crushing grief overflowed the emotional dam, I'd been patching for nearly a decade. "It's my fault. It's, I, it's, my, my-"

"Take a breath and really fill your lungs," Rebecca instructed, trying to calm me down. She was scrambling to unfold my blanket from its spot on the ottoman. "In and out."

Following her calming instructions, I kept breathing through the shivers racking my entire body.

"Nine years and almost eleven months ago," I opened my eyes to find her peering deep into my soul. "My dad died of a sudden heart attack."