Motorcycle Girl: Book Two

Chapter 11: Drunk

Gabe

Odeletta walks into the living room.

"Where does Nathan live?" She asks curiously.

"Here." I say.

I feel so bad for Nate, and I'm heartbroken for Odeletta.

I hope she remembers, for both of their sake.

"Then why did he leave when I gave him back the ring and told me he was going home?"

Nathan

For the first time in my entire life, I have a broken heart.

I drove all the way to my parents house in Ohio. I used the key in the pot in the front yard to let myself in.

And the moment I walked in the door, I started crying.

Because she left me. Without any hesitation, she upped and left me.

I'm so fucking mad, and I hate myself for being mad at her.

This isn't her fault. This is that guys fault.

He ruined my entire life.

Her ruined Odeletta's life, and she doesn't even fucking know it!

I left over twelve hours ago.

I've been at my parents house for three hours, sitting in the garage drinking my Dad's beer.

I hear the house phone ringing off the hook but I couldn't care less.

It's probably my family trying to find out if I'm alive or something.

But I'm not leaving this garage, in this exact spot, because this is where we made up. This is where I told her I meant it when I said I loved her.

This is where our realtionship really started. Where she cried in front of me and let me hold her for the first time.

Who ever thought there would have been a last.

_____

It wasn't until the house phone woke me up the next day at 3 in the morning that I finally caved and snatched it off the hook on the kitchen wall.

"What?" I hiss.

"He answered!" My brother-in-law shouts.

I hear the phone go on speaker and they start shouting things at me.

"Are you okay?"

"Why didn't you answer until now?"

"I'm sure she's going to sure she's going to remember."

"Why are you awake at three in the morning?"

"Nathan, are you alright?"

"I'm not dead." I snap, and then I hang up.

Am I okay? Are they fucking stupid?

The love of my life has no clue who I am. She doesn't remember anything about me!

Yet they're going to as if I'm alright?

I scoff at the phone.

"Am I alright?" I grumble, mocking.

I get a glass of water, rubbing my temples.

At least I'm taking care of the house.

The depression overwhelms me, and I start crying.

I hate crying.

_____

Three days later when I heard the front door open, dread filled my body.