For a second, I consider punching him between the shoulder blades. But I’ve never started a fight, let along sucker-punched a drunk while his back was turned, and Fernando isn’t worth a blow to my integrity.
I should turn and walk away.
And usually, I would. Old Zack wouldn’t waste another second of his time on this loser.
But Old Zack wouldn’t leave the band or miss his best friend’s wedding celebration, either. I don’t know where Old Zack is right now as I reach out a flat hand, but he isn’t here in this alley. He remains conspicuously absent as I give Fernando a gentle shove, sending him stumbling into a puddle of his own warm piss.
“What the fuck?” he cries out, his arms flying out to his sides as urine splashes onto the legs of his pants, but I don’t stick around to see what other thoughtful reflections he might have to share.
I’m already on my way down the alley, headed for the park and the apartment buildings on the other side. I’m not sure when I learned where Colette lives—or why that information stuck in my head when so many things about my hometown slip through the cracks in my awareness—but that’s where I’m going.
Someone should check on her.
Her best friend is out of town, and she’s just been through an ugly breakup.
She could probably use a friendly ear right about now.
And that’s all it will be—a friendly ear. I’ll see if I can help somehow, and then I’ll leave. At least, that’s what the Old Zack would do.
Hopefully, he’ll be back online before I get to Colette’s place.
Chapter Two
Colette Claude Blanchett
A woman looking for sperm in all the wrong places.
* * *
The doorbell buzzes, but I stay on the floor with my jumbo jar of Jet-Puffed Marshmallow Creme and ten thousand used tissues scattered around me like melting snowflakes.
My misery doesn’t like company.
It’s odd and contrary, just like the rest of me.
Why can’t I be a normal person with normal body parts and normal feelings? If I were normal, I would be engaged to Fernando and trying for a baby the old-fashioned way. Instead, I’m crying over lost sperm and wondering how on earth I’m going to afford in vitro fertilization now that I’ve lost my job.
Oh God…my job.
I almost forgot about that part.
Shoveling another spoonful of sugary fluff into my mouth, I ignore the second zap of the doorbell. I don’t know who’s there, but it’s no one I want to see. All my girlfriends are out of town, and I honestly wouldn’t even want to see one of them at this point. I’m too low for girl talk.
I’m too low for anything but sitting on the cold tile, leaking tears and shoveling sugar into my mouth until my tongue goes numb.
I smack my lips.
Nope.
Not numb yet.
I’m scraping my spoon along the side of the now mostly empty jar when a male voice rumbles from the other side of the door, “Hello? Are you all right in there?”
I huddle closer to the ground, hunching my shoulders around my ears, hoping whoever it is will go away if I’m quiet. I pull in a breath and hold it until my lungs begin to ache.
“I know you’re there, Colette,” the voice says, surprising me. “I heard you crying on my way up the stairs.”
The voice knows my name, which means…
I knit my forehead, making my tear-swollen eyes ache. “Zack?” I croak.
“Yeah. How are you?”
“Fine,” I lie, my voice cracking in the middle of the word.
“You don’t sound fine.”
I sniff, struggling to pull myself together. “Summer allergies. They’re bad this year.”
He grunts, and silence falls for a moment before he says, “I ran into Fernando at Chippy’s.”
Fresh tears sting the back of my nose. “Did he…?” I swallow, but I can’t keep the words from my lips, “Did he ask you to check on me?”
“Um…no. But I heard about the breakup. I’m sorry.”
My lips turn down hard. I should have known better. Fernando doesn’t care if I’m sad anymore. He made that abundantly clear when he shouted at me for an hour and then stormed out, taking everything in his overnight drawer with him.
I scrape another bite of fluff from the jar and stick it in my mouth, talking around the spoon. “Yeah. We broke up. He hates me more than cheeseburgers.”
Zack grunts again. “I didn’t know he was a vegetarian.”
“He’s not. He thinks they’re symbolic of everything that’s wrong with our out-of-control consumer culture.” I go back for more sugar, adding in a thin voice, “He also hates donuts.”
“Yeah, well, he’s a piece of shit. No offense.”
I shake my head. “No, I’m the piece of shit.”
“You’re not a piece of shit.” He sighs. “Can I come in?”
“No, I am a piece of shit, Zack. I am. I ruined everything. I returned the diamond bracelet he bought me for my birthday to the jewelry store and used the money to buy sperm.” I swallow hard. “Because I’m a sperm junkie who will do anything to get my fix.”