She sucks in a deep breath and expels it slowly. ‘Are you using alcohol to deal with this, Holden?’
I stare at her, no idea how to answer such a direct question. ‘God, Cora. Are you kidding me?’
‘Listen to me.’ There’s urgency in her voice. ‘I know about this. I know. My dad—he was a genius. I mean a proper, bona fide genius. His IQ was off the charts; he got taken over to Yale on a scholarship when he was fifteen. But the pressure burned him out. The constant activity in his brain was horrifying. He could only silence his thoughts, his intellect, by drinking and smoking weed, and so he did both, and he got so addicted to the blunting of his mind that he couldn’t function without alcohol any more. I get it. Alcohol anaesthetises you to the pain you’re feeling but it’s not a real solution. It might help right now, but you have to get proper help. You need to speak to someone. Me. Your brothers. A therapist. Someone who can help you unpack your emotions, who can make you see that, despite what your mother did, and your biological father’s absence from your life, you are a worthy person, completely deserving of love, and that needs to start with loving yourself.’
Her voice cracks a little in the last sentence and her words bring me to the edge of reason; they stoke all the fears inside of me, and all the anger too.
‘I don’t need you to psychoanalyse me, Cora.’ I say her name heavily.
‘Well, someone needs to. I doubt you ever recovered after your mom left you, and now you have all this to deal with and how can that not take a toll? How could you possibly be a normal guy, looking for normal things in relationships?’
‘I don’t want a relationship; I told you.’
‘So what do you want? What do you need from me?’
‘I need you for sex.’ The words surprise me. They sure as hell surprise her. Even as I throw them at her, I feel like a fire is being lit in my gut. I’m burning alive and I need to put the fire out but I can’t. I can only fan the flames, make it worse.
She stands her ground. But I need her to go. This was a mistake. There’s a reason I ‘fuck and forget’. I let her get to know me, to know too much about me, and I don’t want anyone close to me right now. I need her to go and for this to be over. I wish I’d never met her.
‘Like that’s all this is?’ she challenges, her eyes showing both hurt and scorn.
‘What else do you want it to be?’
She frowns, her own uncertainties obviously pulling at her. ‘I don’t know. But it’s more than just sex. Maybe that’s what we both thought this would be, going into it, but it’s different now. I’m different, and you’re different.’
Even if that were true, it wouldn’t matter. I have only the ability to hurt Cora, and the sooner she realises that the better. ‘I’m the same man I wa
s the day we met and I want the same things from you.’
‘And that’s sex?’
‘Yes.’ I’m exasperated. It shows in my voice. ‘Damned sex. And soon I’ll go back to the States and forget you exist. Because that’s what I do.’
She recoils a little but doesn’t otherwise move. ‘That sounds like a great way to live your life.’
I grind my teeth together.
‘And ignoring everyone who cares about you?’
Something in the tone of her voice digs inside of me. ‘Are you saying you care about me?’
Her eyes flash and it’s not until a moment later I realise I’ve taunted her, the question mocking.
‘I didn’t say that.’ Her skin is pale. God, I’m hurting her and I need her to leave just so I stop. I hate this—I’m too good at ruining things and I don’t want to ruin this, to hurt her. I don’t want her memories of me to include this night, this argument.
‘I was talking about your brothers.’
‘So you’re saying you don’t care about me?’
She frowns. ‘Why would I be standing here going through this if I didn’t care? I care, Holden. I hate seeing you like this. I hate seeing—’ She stops and her eyes are suspiciously moist but she blinks quickly and her tears are gone again. ‘I hate seeing anyone turn to alcohol as a cure-all, because it’s not. You think it’s helping? It’s destroying you, destroying your life, and if you don’t get a hold of yourself you’re going to wind up completely alone, or dead. I don’t want that for you.’
I don’t know how to respond to that. ‘I’m not an alcoholic.’ The need to reassure her comes out of nowhere. ‘I’m not your father.’
‘When was the last day you didn’t drink?’
I close my eyes for a moment. ‘You see everything as so black and white. Haven’t you ever done something that was bad for you?’
‘Plenty of things! And, what’s more, I’ve had a front row seat to watching someone I love destroy themselves so I know a train crash in motion when I see it.’