A kiss to tell ( jenlisa ) (GIP)

Part 21

J

"I loved coming here." My mother's voice is calm and sober, which is at odds with the noise of the bottles clinking and everyone talking in the bar. It sounds like everyone's talking at once and over each other. The billiard balls collide on the break and the sound of a new game starting draws my attention briefly. The television's on with a football game and some of the guys cheer a player on, but he the whole bar voices its dismay as he's quickly tackled.

I recognize a few faces, one of them Mashiho's dad as he orders a drink.

"That man's going soon." My mother's voice catches my attention. Goosebumps flow over my skin; she's so close to me. A thin, sickly smile is on her lips. She nods, not taking her gaze away from the far end of the bar as we sit on two stools next to each other.

I look back to the man I recognize and ask, "Mr. Cross?"

"No, no, baby girl," my mother tsks me, "the bartender."

Dave.

Ice flows over my skin as my mom laughs at my reaction. Fifth on the list.

The billiard balls clack noisily, and the bar carries on like nothing's happening. Like they can't even see us.

Sharp nails dig into my shoulder as my mom comes closer to me, whispering in my ear and making my body stiffen.

"I used to fuck him at the end of the night," she tells me with her smile growing. "He'd clear my tab in return, although sometimes he just wanted me to suck him off like a whore."

My words fail me and I struggle to breathe or to know what to say. It's only a dream.

"Yeah, yeah, baby girl. But that doesn't make it any less true," my mom tells me before letting go and sitting upright in her seat.

I swallow the tight knot in my throat and peek up at her.

"Just because you're dreaming doesn't mean shit." The smile fades and she stares at the bartender as he pours a glass of some clear liquor for Mr. Cross.

The music seems to die down, everything except my mother's voice turning to white noise.

"At one point, I thought he loved me," my mom tells me, staring down at the drink on the bar.

It takes me a moment to realize the smudge on the glass is blood. My gaze darts to her hand, to the broken nails and the bruises on her wrist.

My heart pounds, the anxiety and fear rising as her voice hardens and she picks up the drink. "Some people don't love, Jennie." She sets the glass against her lips, but she doesn't drink. Instead, she stares at the man behind the bar. She stares down the bartender who doesn't see either of us. "Don't you ever believe that shit."

I grip the barstool tighter, feeling the blood draining from me as she looks me in the eyes, her own pale and lifeless. "Don't believe her, Jennie."

I wake up drenched in sweat and alone. Trembling, I can hear the faint sounds of someone outside. I can't help getting out of bed, my heart still racing as I check to see who it is.

Peeking through the blinds, it's just two guys walking down the street. Guys I've seen before on the porch of a house down the street. They look like they're on their way back from the liquor store, carrying bags full of large glass bottles. That would explain the noises I heard in my sleep.

I'm still shaking as I turn from the window and slowly walk back to the bed, my mind racing with the memory of the dream. Of the bar. Of Dave.

I reach out to Lisa's side of the bed, but the sheets are cold.