folklore: the novel

4. exile

The next morning, James wakes early to a pounding headache and four missed calls from Betty. Missed calls because he'd switched his phone to silent before leaving the dance and crashed as soon as he got home, forgetting all about it in his haste to just... fall into the short reprieve of unconsciousness.

He dials her number as he shuffles to the bathroom. She doesn't pick up the first time, the line ringing until her cheery voicemail prompts him to leave a message. James doesn't bother, instead redialing but, this time, it only rings twice before cutting off. He frowns at the call he didn't end, his brush pausing in his mouth.

A moment later, his phone chimes in his hand. A message from Betty that reads: can you come over today?

Still frowning, he hits the call button once more. Like the second try, it only rings a few times before cutting off. Spitting out his toothpaste, James sends back: Sure, I can head over now. Why aren't you answering my calls??

All she responds is: k. see you then

It's not like Betty to be so... short with him. It's also unusual for her to so blatantly disregard his calls.

No matter, James reasons. He'll figure out whatever it is when he sees her in person—something that makes his morning a little less shit. Spending time with Betty is always an escape into paradise, something he won't be taking for granted again any time soon.

Dances, concerts, conventions—whatever makes Betty happy, James will do it. For Betty, he will.

It's something he was too foolish to realize beforehand and he's ashamed to think it took another girl... kissing him to understand it, but it was a one-time thing. Never again will he let something like that happen.

He not only hurt Augustine—even he isn't so dense that he couldn't see how his actions affected her last night—but he knows Betty would be devastated if she ever found out. Which is why she simply won't. There's no need, not when James knows Betty is all he wants.

Everything else is insignificant.

Tossing back two Advil before heading down into the kitchen to grab his keys, James comes up short when he spots his dad in the living room. Passed out cold on the floor because he was too drunk to make it the short distance to the couch, several beer bottles and cans surrounding his body. All drained dry, of course.

James angrily kicks one, sending it flying into the wall with a metallic clatter, but even that isn't enough to rouse his father. Nothing is. And one of these days, thinks James, he's going to drink himself to death.

All because of a mistake—no, a choice—that he made all those years ago. A choice James was also stupid enough to make but smart enough to not let continue.

"What a way to start my Saturday," he mutters to himself.

Traffic is light, most of the highschoolers still out cold from their late night at the dance and after-parties. James doesn't give himself time to consider whether or not Betty might've attended any of those after-parties and what may or may not have happened without him there.

He has no reason to not trust her. He won't let himself go down that road, won't let himself further sabotage something that has been so good to him.

Adding to his girlfriend's sudden atypicality, Betty's not waiting at the door, nearly bouncing in place with excitement like always, when he pulls into her driveway. He walks up the path to her door, trying to not put much thought behind the vague uneasiness unsettling his stomach. Before he has the chance to knock, Betty opens the door and James knows immediately that... something is wrong.