He knows it cuts deep because I don’t have that safety net. My dad died when I was sixteen, and I cut ties with my toxicmother in my twenties. He uses my lack of family as a weapon, a way to make me feel small and alone.
Alice:
Well, he can go there then.
And leave you alone.
I have a lightbulb moment.
Me:
I can go wherever I want.
I can literally go anywhere.
Alice:
Absolutely.
A WHILE LATER
Timmy has returned and has been keeping to himself.
Suddenly, a glob of spit hits my arm.
I freeze, the shock of it rendering me immobile for a split second.
He just spat on me from across the room.
Timmy’s face contorts into a reptilian sneer, and I feel bile rise in my throat. Most of his disgusting, tobacco-stained saliva has missed me, but a few droplets cling to my skin. My body recoils.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I snap.
He shrugs as if spitting on someone is the most natural thing in the world.
But it’s disrespectful, and it’s also assault.
I message Alice:
Me:
He just spat on me from a distance.
Alice:
No.
Timmy leaves again.
Me:
He’s so gross.
Maybe I’ll break up with him and go on a world trip.
Meet you in like the fucking Caribbean or some shit.
What a nut.