Something jabbed me in the side, and I swung my head around and noticed Waddlebutt, standing next to me in the bathroom. On my knees, he was about even with my waist.
I spat, put my hand on the pedal to flush the toilet, and as my vomit swirled away the penguin pecked me again.
“What?” I gave the bird my full attention. “You trying to cheer me up?”
He pecked again, this time grabbing my sweater button in his beak.
It wasn’t sympathy. It was robbery.
Waddlebutt managed to yank the button free, then waddled away to add it to his nest. I placed my hands on the toilet to stand up, hit a button, and got squirted in the face.
Harry’s bidet.
The thought was gross, but my stomach had emptied two dry heaves ago. I managed to make it to my feet, turned on the sink faucet, and splashed some water on my face.
I avoided the mirror. I didn’t want to see my face, because I’d just want to punch it.
“Herb… I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I’m going to find you. I swear it. I will find you.”
My vow sounded as hollow as I felt.
We were on the road again, having just blown through Nashville. I checked my phone GPS and saw we were nearing the Kentucky border. It was about ten to seven, but I needed to hear my husband’s voice, so I called Phin earlier than promised.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
I couldn’t glean anything from his tone. Was he still angry? Did he hate me?
Of course he hates you. You’re the worst person to ever live.
“How’s Bud? Can I talk to her?”
“She’s sleeping.”
I closed my eyes. I wanted so much for Phin to be there, holding me tight as I sobbed into his shoulder. That was impossible. It was also stupid. Look what happened to Herb because of me. I needed to keep Phin as far away as possible.
Instead, I would have settled for a kind word. Anything. A half-hearted I love you. A mumble that he understood.
But I didn’t deserve even that.
So I did what any deservedly self-loathing jerk would do. I picked a fight.
“If you can’t trust me enough to support me, Phin, then maybe we shouldn’t be together.”
“Is that how you feel?”
“I should be able to tell you I’m doing something, and have you back me up.”
“I can’t back you up, Jack, because I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing.”
His tone was even and neutral, so I knew I was getting to him.
“You don’t trust me.”
“You’re baiting me. What’s wrong?”
What’s wrong? I was just watching my best friend, the one I left for dead, get tortured live on darknet. And I can’t tell you about it because your body and mind are still damaged from the last time you went all white knight and tried to save me.
So instead I told him, “The problem is you don’t respect me.”
“Of course I respect you. And I love you.”
Crap. Giving me what I needed was fighting dirty. I changed tactics.
“Maybe it’s an age thing,” I said.
“What is?”
“I’m ten years older. Wiser. Know things you don’t know. Maybe you’ll never know them. Maybe waiting for you to catch up to my emotional level is a fool’s game.”
“Are you even listening to yourself?”
I was not. But my words made me feel worse, so I knew I was onto something.
“If I asked you to do something for me, no questions asked, would you do it?”
“Of course,” Phin said.
“Then let this one go. Pretend I’m on vacation. Stop questioning me, stop judging me, just let me work this out.”
Phin didn’t answer. I braced for him to yell, because I was being a completely hypocritical, unfair, psychotic bitch.
“Fine,” he said.
Fine? Since when did my drug abusing, criminal, hard ass husband get so pussy whipped?
And how was I supposed to keep the fight going when he was giving me what I said I wanted?
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” I said, feeling like I’d flushed my entire will to live down the toilet with my vomit.
“Jack… I love—”
I hung up on him.
Then I sobbed into my clenched fist and tried to find strength in the fact that I was a worse person than I thought.