Toxic Love CH. 1 "Meet Claire"

It’s so hot in the car, it feels like the windshield is trapping the sunlight in the cab with us. I flick my eyes to the right, Tommy is still out. I breathe a small sigh of relief, if he’s passed out until we get home then I won’t have to clean his puke out of the truck.

My phone goes off and I scramble to pull it out of my pocket before it wakes him up. I silence it in my pocket and Tommy stirs, but slumps against the window again. I wait a moment before arching my back and slipping the phone out of my pocket.

I flip the phone open and check my missed calls; “Bar Mike” called and left a voicemail. I hit the green talk button and listen to an angry Mike yell about an unpaid bar tab and vomit in one of the beer cases. I delete the message and check the urge to groan.

With three stop signs till we’re home, I don’t want to wake Tommy before I have to. I sigh and roll through the second stop sign, with a practiced hand I turn right with one hand and dial Tommy’s mom with the other.

“Claire? That you?”

I nod before I realize she can’t see me, I whisper, “yes’m, how do you always know its me?”

“I didn’t. Tommy wasn’t home by midnight, so the only people calling me at this hour would be you or the police. I was just hoping it’d be you.”

We sit in silence for a moment, the truth always makes us pause.

“I’ll meet you in the drive,” she whispers before hanging up.

I nod again, and hit the turn signal before I put my phone in the cup holder. We pull into the drive way, and his mom has the door open before I’ve killed the engine. “So he can lose it on the lawn if he needs to,” she always says, but I know better. It’s to survey possible damage before we move him.

I wait behind her while she finishes her once over, when she nods at me we start lifting him out of the cab. We don’t speak again until Tommy’s in the downstairs bathtub; we stand there a moment to look at his innocent sleeping face. Ms. Tori reaches for the shower knob; an inside joke between us, that one day we’ll turn it on and let the bastard drown. We never do.

“I’ll get you a cup of coffee,” she says, brushing her hands off. I watch her head for the kitchen; I wait until she’s turned the corner to slump onto the toilet seat. I put my head in my hands and take a deep breath; after a few moments I mutter “Tommy, you are such a dick” into my hands.

I sit up and look at him, crumpled in the tub. There are so many things I start to say, shout, scream, but I swallow them and go to the kitchen. This is our routine, and I’m starting to get really tired of it.

I turn into the kitchen and hop on the counter top to the left of the sink; Ms. Tori already has my mug waiting for me. I sip the cup before meeting her eyes, she’s already got the “what’s the damage” look on her face.

I hesitate and she curses, “Shit, it’s that bad?”

“Well, it depends on how you look at it. Mike says he’s not allowed at the bar till he breaks even and repairs the door. So he won’t be at the bar, but that just means he’ll get creative.”

She looks so defeated as she digests this; the both of us are imagining all the scenarios that Tommy can get himself and others into. She shakes her head and goes for the phone, to make amends with Mike I’m sure.

I’m not finished imagining the trouble he might wreak on our lives. I can see it in my mind’s eye-- the glazed not-all-there look he gets when he’s gone. The same look that got me into this mess.