Page 55 of Rough

I looked in the mirror.

Only time would tell if my mother was right, or if she was wrong.

SEVENTEEN

Tegan

I stared at the reflection in the rearview mirror and wondered if it was a bad choice or not. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn’t going to hurt anything, but I made the decision for selfish reasons.

I ran through the list of things in my head that could be affected if things went awry.

Toilet paper.

I had plenty.

Feminine products.

I was safe for the time being.

Food.

I had enough food to last me for 3 weeks.

Gas.

My car had a full tank, and got 27 m.p.g. The gas would last me a month.

I did my own nails and Marcus cut my hair, so that wouldn’t be an issue. I counted the money in my wallet again, and began to second guess myself.

It was rare that I did anything special. For whatever reason, I felt like I should treat myself to something nice. Maybe it was because I finally told someone what had happened on that awful day in June.

I wouldn’t have guessed it, but talking about it made me feel far less responsible.

To heck with it, I deserve this.

I stepped out of the side of my car and walked to the door. Through the glass wall I could see the people gathered inside, talking. They all looked so jovial and high-spirited.

I felt like a heroin junkie going in for my fix at the methadone clinic.

I pushed the door open. With my eyes fixed on the selections that were displayed on the wall-mounted menu, I walked up to the register.

“Welcome to Starbucks,” she said. “What can I get for you?”

I scanned the menu, but none of the names of the drinks rang a bell.

“Uhhm.” I looked at her. She had fire-engine red hair, porcelain-colored skin, and a tattoo of a dove on the side of her neck. “I’m sorry. I was in here the other day with a guy, and he got me a drink. I was wanting to get it again, but I’m not seeing it up there.”

“The biker?” she asked.

Initially it didn’t register. “The biker?” I asked with a laugh. “I don’t think that’s what it was called.”

“No.” She chuckled. “You were in with the biker, right?”

I felt stupid.

“Oh, yeah.” I tossed my head toward the table where we had been sitting. “We were outside. You recognized me?”

“Yeah, it’s the car. We were all talking about it when you pulled up. What happened?”