Fisher's Light

He’ll feel bad and he’ll apologize and he’ll finally realize he needs to get help. I don’t want him to believe that I think he’s damaged. I told him things were just broken and I truly believe that. Pieces fall apart, but they don’t disintegrate. You can pick up those pieces and you can put them back together until everything is whole again. There might be a few cracks, but nothing is ever perfect. Anything that’s worth living for, worth dying for, has a few cracks. I believe our cracks can hold and we can keep it all together. I can give him another chance to breathe some life back into the part of my body that feels like it only exists with him, only beats for him and only lives for him. I can do this. He’s taught me how to be strong and how to be a fighter and I will fight for him until the day I die.

Bobby steps away from Fisher and his eyes catch mine across the room. He walks away from Fisher and makes his way up to Ellie and I.

“Thanks for coming, babe. I don’t know what the fuck to do. He won’t listen to me, he won’t stop arguing with people and he’s pretty much decided to drink himself into a coma,” Bobby explains with a sigh.

“You should have just let him do it. Let him pass out in a pile of his own vomit and regret,” Ellie states angrily.

“Pipe down, hardass,” Bobby tells her. “He’s my best friend and he’s hurting. I know Lucy will be able to get through to him.”

Ellie scoffs and shakes her head at him. “He kicked her out of the house this afternoon and told her he’s been fucking around on her all this time. No one is going to be able to get through to that asshole right now.”

Bobby’s eyes go as wide as dinner plates and he runs a hand through his short, curly hair. “Jesus Christ, Lucy. Fuck. I’m so sorry. You know it’s all bullshit, right? He’s going through some shit right now. He would never, ever do that to you. He loves you more than anything.”

I nod, hoping to God he’s right. “I know. It’s just…this is really hard, Bobby. It’s hard to see him like this when I don’t know how to help him. I brought up therapy this morning and he completely lost it. I don’t think he’s going to want to see me right now.”

Bobby shakes his head in denial, resting both of his hands on my shoulders and squatting down to look me straight in the eye. “You’re his entire world, Lucy, no matter what kind of shit he spouted earlier. Don’t believe any of it, you hear me?”

I nod at him again and he drops his hands from my shoulders.

“Oh, shit,” Ellie mutters from beside me.

She quickly moves in front of me, pressing her arm against Bobby’s before reaching up and cupping my cheeks in her hands. “I think we should go. Just turn around and leave and let him sleep it off. You don’t want to try and talk to him now when he’s had a shit ton more alcohol than earlier today. Let’s just go, Lucy.”

I know she wasn’t happy about my decision to come up here, but does she really think I walked all the way into town to tuck my tail between my legs and leave before I’ve even tried?

Bobby and I both look at her in confusion. Bobby looks behind him, over his shoulder, and then quickly back to me, moving closer to Ellie.

“You know what, I think that might be the best idea. It was stupid for me to call you. I’ll take him back to my place and we can figure out something tomorrow when he’s sober.”

Ellie drops her hands from my face and Bobby grabs my shoulders again, but this time he turns my body around and starts pushing me towards the door. I pull away from him and put my hands on my hips as I glare at both of them.

“What the hell is wrong with the two of you? I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

My eyes move to the space between Bobby and Ellie that they had been trying so hard to keep covered from my line of sight. My hands drop from my hips and I start walking forward blindly, shoving the two of them further apart so I can walk in between them.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.

I keep moving, one foot in front of the other, even though all I want to do is take Bobby and Ellie up on their suggestion and turn and run as far away as I possibly can.

On the other side of the room, Fisher is still perched on his barstool, but now he has an extra person helping him fill the seat. Straddling his lap with her arms draped loosely around his shoulders is Melanie Sanders. She’s been a thorn in my side since high school, when she shamelessly flirted with Fisher right in front of me, even after the two of us became a couple and he obviously wasn’t interested in her anymore. Over the years, she’s gone through three husbands, but it never stopped her from blatantly telling Fisher she’d always be available to him whenever he was in town. Fisher told me they only slept together once in high school, right before I moved to the island, but it was enough to keep the jealousy alive and kicking in my veins over the years.

It hurt that he’d had so much more experience before we slept together and that I had to see constant reminders of his conquests around the island, but nothing stung my pride more over the years than Melanie Sanders. She is the epitome of everything I’m not. Big (read: fake) boobs, long legs, tiny waist, perfect skin without a trace of freckles, outgoing and the life of every party. She’s made enough money through her divorces that she can travel the world whenever the mood strikes and she never has to work to make ends meet. Her hair and make-up are always perfect and she’s always dressed in the latest fashions when she struts through town. Tugging at the hem of my Butler House t-shirt that is dirty and stained from cleaning the bathrooms this morning at the inn, I try not to feel like less of a woman thinking about how my hair is a mess in a loose ponytail and I don’t even remember the last time I put on make-up. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">