11
I thought I’d have a much worse hangover than I do this morning. Last night was the first time I’ve had a drink in months, but I’m not complaining. I roll over on my side, and when I see the clock next to my face reading an hour and a half past the time Andrew was supposed to be at the airport, my eyes pop open and I shoot upright on the bed.
“Andrew!” I say, shaking him awake.
He groans and rolls over, barely opening his eyes a crack. He reaches out his arm and tries to bury me underneath it so he can go back to sleep, but I push it away.
“Get up. Missed your plane.”
The only part of his body that moves are his eyes popping open much like mine did, and when reality sinks in, the rest of his body follows suit.
“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He gets out of the bed and stands in the center of the room, nak*d.
I never get tired of looking at him—naked or clothed, it doesn’t matter. How I ended up with him still defies my comprehension to this day. He raises both hands to his face and runs them over the top of his hair, resting them on the back of his head, his arms hardened with well-defined muscles. And then a long, defeated sigh deflates his chest.
“I’ll have to catch a later flight.”
I climb out of the bed and grab my robe from the floor so I can get in the shower.
“Not that I mind staying here with you for a few more hours,” he says, coming up behind me.
“I don’t know, Andrew.” I slip the robe around my body and tie it at the front. “I was kind of looking forward to getting rid of you.” I’m totally smiling with my back facing him.
Silence bathes the room.
“Are you serious?”
His stunned voice makes it impossible not to laugh. I whirl around and kiss his lips.
“Hell no, I’m not serious. Maybe I was the one who turned the alarm off last night. Maybe I planned this all along.”
His smile widens and he kisses me back and then walks around to the side of the bed to find his boxers.
“Did you?” he asks, stepping into them.
“No, I didn’t. But it’s a good idea. I’ll remember it for next time. Want to shower with me?”
At that second, there’s a knock at my bedroom door. Knowing it’s probably my mom, Andrew’s posture stiffens a little and he sits down on the bed to cover his lower half with the blanket.
I open the door to see my mom in all her bleached-blonde glory standing there. She’s wearing a light pink button-up top and soft pink blush in her cheeks to match it.
“Are you up?” she asks.
No, Mom, I’m sleepwalking. She’s funny sometimes.
I notice her glance at Andrew once. She has already expressed her worry about me getting pregnant again, but surely she can’t expect us not to have sex. It’s what she wants, but yeah, not gonna happen.
She smiles weakly at me and asks, “Do you want to go with me to Brenda’s today?”
Definitely not. Love my aunt Brenda, but not so much being choked to death by her cigarette-smoke-filled house.
“No, I’ve got plans with Natalie.”
Really, I don’t have any plans at all, but whatever.
“Oh, all right. Well…” She glances at Andrew again and then back at me. “Thought he was going to Texas this morning?”
I tighten the rope around my robe and cross my arms.
“Yeah, well we overslept, but he’s going to take a later flight out.”
My mom nods and looks across the room at him one more time. She smiles slimly and he does the same. Awkward. She really likes Andrew, but she’s definitely not used to a guy sleeping with me in my room, even if he’s been here with me for two weeks. If I wasn’t almost twenty-one and engaged to him, he definitely wouldn’t be in here at all. At the same time, she knows we love each other and after what happened with the baby, she wants him here for me. But it’s still awkward. For all of us. Yeah, Andrew and I are seriously gonna have to get a place of our own.
A place of our own… here in Raleigh. My chest feels like there’s something heavy sitting on top of it all of a sudden.
My mom finally leaves us, and I gaze over at Andrew, who looks all uncomfortable with the sheet draped over his lap and a sort of nervous frown.
“Shower with me?” I ask again, but I can tell he’s not up for it anymore.
He flinches. “I think I’ll get one after you.”
I chuckle at his boyish awkwardness and then soften my face. “I’ll look for a place this weekend. I promise.”
He stands up. “If you want me to look with you, just tell me. I only suggested Natalie in case you wanted something to do while I’m gone. Y’know, get that girl opinion on drapes and color palettes ’n’ shit.”
I laugh out loud.
“I won’t be picking out any drapes,” I say. “Curtains maybe, but drapes are for interior designers and rich cougars.”
He shakes his head at me as I leave the room and head to the bathroom down the hall.
I feel like Jekyll and Hyde. All the time. When in front of Andrew I put on my happy face, but not as if I’m faking it. I am happy. I think. But the second I’m alone again, it’s like I become someone else. I feel like someone invisible is always standing behind me, flipping a f**king switch inside my brain. Off. On. Off. On. O—no, On.
I sit in the bottom of the tub with my knees drawn up against my chest, and I let the hot water stream down on me forever. I think about the inevitable apartment I’m bound to find, the good time I had at the Underground last night, the load of laundry I need to start, and how that logo is starting to fade from the top of the soap bar. When the water begins to cool, the change in temperature wakes me up enough from my strange daydreaming to take notice of how long I’ve actually been in here. I don’t even shave before I shut the water off and get out, purposely avoiding the bath rug because I hate the way it feels underneath my feet. I throw a clean towel over it and then I just stand here, gazing at myself in the mirror. Absently I begin to count the flecks of toothpaste staining the glass. I stop at fourteen.
Pulling open the medicine cabinet, I sift through the bottles and tubes of stuff in search of Advil. Thankfully, my so-called hangover only requires a couple of headache pills. When I find it, I go to pluck the bottle from behind a few brown-orange prescription bottles, and then I pause. I take down one of the prescription bottles instead and read the label. Percocet 7.5—Take one tablet every six hours as needed for pain—Nancy Lillard. No idea why my mom has a bottle of pain pills, which she obviously hasn’t taken, but she’s had back problems for a while, so maybe she finally saw a doctor about it. Or, maybe my mom, being an RN, is turning into a criminal on me and taking advantage of her easier-than-the-average-citizen’s access to prescription drugs.
Nah. That’s not likely, considering this bottle was purchased a month ago and is still full. She’s the same old mom I’ve known all my life who’s never been fond of taking anything for pain beyond the harmless over-the-counter stuff.
I start to put it back when I find myself stopping just before the bottle touches the tiny shelf. I guess it can’t hurt. I do have a headache and that qualifies as pain, right? Right. I push down and turn to twist the childproof cap off and shuffle a pill into my hand. I swallow it down with a handful of water from the sink, dry my body off, and wrap my hair in the towel afterwards. Slipping back inside my robe, I tie it closed and go back into my room to get dressed. I hear Andrew talking in the kitchen, but his laid-back tone tells me it’s not my mom he’s talking to. He’s probably on the phone. When I hear him mention his brother Asher’s name, I’m satisfied that my assumption was right, and I get dressed.
I was going to have to tear Natalie a new one if it had been her again. She’s got to stop with that worrying stuff and plotting against me behind my back with Andrew.
After combing out my wet hair, I head toward the kitchen to join him.
“I know, bro, but I don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” I hear Andrew say, and I fall back a little so I don’t intrude too soon. “Yeah. Yeah. No, she’s doing better. She’s definitely not as messed up as she was after the first week. Umm-hmm.” I look around the corner to see him standing at the bar with his cell phone pressed to one ear and his other hand resting on the bar top. He nods here and there, listening to whoever is on the other end, which I get the feeling is Aidan. I’m right again when he says, “Tell Michelle I said thanks for the offer. Maybe we’ll visit in a month or two after Camryn’s had time to—No, maybe in the spring. Chicago is way too f**king cold for my blood in the winter.” Andrew laughs and says, “Hell no, bro, why do you think I prefer Texas?” He laughs again. Finally I round the corner completely, and he sees me.
“I would like to go,” I announce.
Andrew just stares at me for a moment and then cuts Aidan off. “Hold up a second.” He covers the mic part of the phone with the palm of his hand. “You want to go to Chicago?” He seems mildly surprised.
“Sure,” I say, smiling. “I think it would be fun.”
At first, he seems to be working through something in his head. Maybe he doesn’t believe me, or maybe he’s just considering the idea and all he can see is wind and snow. But then his face lights up and slowly he begins to nod. “OK,” he says, hesitates, and puts the phone back against his ear. “Aidan, let me call you back in a few, all right? Yeah. OK. Talk to you soon. Later.”
He runs his finger over the phone and hangs up. Then he looks across the room at me again. “Are you sure? I thought you’d want to stay here for a while.”
I walk into the kitchen and get a bottle of orange juice from the fridge. “No, I’m sure,” I say, taking a sip. “Sounds like it was Michelle’s idea.”
He nods once. “Yeah, Aidan said she’s been worried about you. She offered to put us up for a few days if we wanted to visit.”
I take another sip and set the bottle on the bar top. “Worried about me? Well, that’s nice of her and all, but I hope we don’t go up there and I find myself in the same situation as I’m in with Natalie here.”
Andrew shakes his head. “Nah, Michelle’s not like that.” He backtracks that comment to put more emphasis on just how true it is. “Michelle is nothing like Natalie.”
“That’s not what I meant, Andrew.”
“I know, I know,” he says, “but really, she’s all right.”
Knowing Michelle enough myself, I know he’s right.
Then that pill hits me out of nowhere, and suddenly my head feels like it’s sort of loose on my shoulders. My whole body from my toes to the center of the top of my head is tingling, and it takes me a second to straighten my vision. My hand comes down on the edge of the bar instinctively to hold myself up.
“Whoa.” I swallow and blink my eyes a few times forcefully.
Andrew looks at me curiously. “You OK?”
A smile stretches so far across my face I feel the air from the room hit my teeth. “Yeah, I’m totally fine.”