A Third of Me (11 page)

I pull the blanket tight and fall asleep again, trying to hush that voice in the back of my mind, the one that says
he went out to fuck her, Brian. He’s singing in her snatch right now. He’s getting his dick wet and she’s gonna make him come like you never could. And she’s gonna love it.

The truth is I can’t blame him if he does. She can give him things I can’t, no matter how hard I try. I just have to trust him and hope he trusts me.

But I don’t know if he trusts himself.

Damon

I start off with a draft. The place is smoky and alive with conversation. I’m sitting at the bar watching the celebrity all-star basketball game on a small flatscreen above the bar mirror. The bartender is a nice little hardbody with a ripped shirt that hands loosely at her shoulders, but her hair is bleached so blonde that it’s almost white and it turns me off. I snatch a matchbook from a tall glass and burn a Marlboro. I suck it down and consider ordering a pizza from the kitchen but my nerves are too feisty to handle it. I order a shot instead. An old guy in a Red Sox hat bumps into me and gives me this look like he’s trying to figure me out, studying me, sniffing me out like a bloodhound on a lantern-lit fag hunt.

I chat with the fellow on my right who’s drinking something blue. I don't ask what it is because I don't care. His lips are blue. Behind his thick glasses I can tell he’s not only drunk, he's higher than a seagull. He pulls a roach from his pocket and we go out in back of the place to burn it. He leaves, I go back into the bar and do another shot. Then another. The bartender – her name is Lillian – takes away the litter of shot glasses in front of me before I can count them. I take out my phone and scroll through all the contacts I have, not looking for anyone in particular. Or am I?

She’s shaking her shit just inches from my table. Black dress, black shit in her hair. Live band playing “Life in the Fast Lane.” A couple making out in a dark corner by the stage. “Without You In My Life.” I slip off to the men’s for a while to avoid feeling sentimental and soft. By the time I wash my hands and come out, the band’s busted out “Dr. Feelgood.” Sexy.

I sit down but Heather comes over to me and tries to get me up, but I push her away. I catch a whiff her perfume then I’m on my feet running my hand up her thigh against a Marshall amp squealing a solo. I start to fade from reality. Disconnecting. A few flashes, silence, the roar of my engine, and I'm pulling into my apartment complex. It's just after one o’clock when I get back to the apartment. Brian's still asleep on the couch. I turn on the fluorescents in the kitchen. I squeeze my eyes shut because it makes my headache much worse. I get my bearings and stagger into the bedroom. I strip, collapse on the bed, and I’m swept out of consciousness almost immediately.

I slide an eyelid open and strain to read the clock on the nightstand. It's almost two in the afternoon. I hear Brian shuffling around in the office, the radio softly crooning eighties hair metal – Journey, I think.

I sit up and feel like the world is tilting, like I’m about to slide into the floor because gravity hates me. I think of Brian’s fight with gravity the last time we got hammered, and I can't help but laugh. He comes into the bedroom with a cup of coffee under his nose and I see that he's smiling.

“Hello, sleepyhead,” he says, sitting next to me. “Got some great, great news.”

I raise an eyebrow.

“We're all set! Carter emailed me earlier this morning and says everything looks fine. We're going out there next week. I’ve already booked our flight.”

“Oh, dude, that’s terrific. Awesome! Wait, did you say
flight?
”

He nods. I’ve never flown before.

“Yes, we’re flying. Get over it. You’ll be fine.” He pats me on the back, kisses my cheek, and disappears down the hall. The goofy bastard’s probably skipping.

While I’m in the shower, I try to remember last night, but I can’t. I remember driving to the Brew Barn for drinks, sitting at the bar with… Oh wow, I ordered a whiskey. And then…

Holy Christ, Damon, you didn't.

Of course I didn’t. Couldn’t have. I don’t even know her number.

She gave it to you. At the bank, remember.

I don’t even lather up or wash my hair. I throw a towel around me and sprint into the bedroom. I grope my crumpled jean on the floor and pull out my phone.

Oh no. I told her to come to the bar. I must have been wasted when I did it. Did she come, though?

She came all right. You made her come in the backseat of her car. And she made you come, too. And it felt awesome.

I slide down the floor and sob like a little bitch. I can't believe it. Stupid.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Damon! You asshole!

Never again. I won't even as much taste alcohol again. I'm done. Finished. It’s gotten me into a lot of trouble, now I've gotta fix this quick.

I delete our texts and block her number. I want to call in to work and put in my notice, but I can't. We need the money.

Brian can’t know. I’m not even going to think about this anymore. What’s done is done, and I can’t take it back. From now on, Heather Meeks doesn’t exist.

Lauren calls me and asks if Brian and I will go on a double date with her. I ask her who’s the guy. Check this out. She met the guy at the clinic. He's a nurse. Weird, huh?

I okay it with Brian and we make plans to meet Lauren and Mr. Nurse at the bowling alley on the parkway.

After I get off the phone with her, I realize she hasn’t been out on a date since she moved down here two years ago. Damn. Oh, Brian and I are gonna give her so much shit.

This is gonna be fun.

Lauren

His name is Adam Weiss. He's tall and a little on the thin side, but he has a chiseled jaw that got me going the minute he came into the room.

He noticed me staring at him while he read my chart. I looked away without being too obvious.

“Miss…” He consulted my chart. “Hatcher?”

“Lauren. Please.” I think I was smiling when I said it. Whatever I did made him smile back, and from that moment on, I knew he was interested.

They use an ultrasound-guided needle to extract the eggs, which took less than half an hour. I was lightly sedated while they harvested my eggs (so crazy using that word
harvested
) and it wasn't as painful as I imagined (I think Brian's wallet felt it more than I did).

It had to be done, but I'm glad it's over.

I meet the boys at the bowling alley and wait for Adam to arrive. I keep asking them how I look and I'm starting to sweat and I'm worried my makeup isn't right since I rarely wear any, and then there's my–

“Would you chill out, woman?” Damon says.

I take a deep breath. Brian's coming back from the snack bar when he points and says, “Is that your guy?”

Adam walks into the place carrying his jacket. I almost don't recognize him in jeans and a polo shirt – the scrubs were pretty hot, by the way.
And he's not wearing his glasses. I don't know how old he is, but he's older than any of us. I guess he's probably twenty-seven, twenty-eight.

I wave to him and get his attention. He smiles and waves back, then I hear snickering.

Brian says, “You better watch out, Lauren. He might try to take me home instead.”

“Not on your life,” I say through gritted teeth. “Hi, Adam!”

We exchange a light hug then I introduce him to the boys.

As soon as we got here, I told them not to embarrass me. I'm thinking that was probably the wrong thing to do.

They're already plotting against me. I know it. They're like children.

C H A P T E R F I V E

T
HAT
L
OVING
F
EELING

Damon

It turns out this Adam guy isn't a douchebag. He's actually pretty cool. Mature. We even play the same video games, so we talk about that while Lauren's scolding Brian for bringing up the time she wet herself in gym class when they were in second grade. Oh she was
pissed!

Adam and I talk about fitness for a while since he's a health nut and not a bad one. He tells me he's a vegan – I guess that's why he's so thin, but not an ounce of fat on him – and that he goes to the same gym as Brian and me, except he goes at like five in the morning before work. He delicately brings up the dangers of smoking – probably because he can smell smoke on me – and tells me that he smoked in his younger days but had quit successfully on nicotine gum. I say I'll check it out.

It's Lauren's turn. She's normally a terrible bowler, but she's managed to score three strikes and even picked up a couple of spares. She must be showing off for her new boy toy. But she's frazzled now after her trivial spat with Brian so she rolls her pink eight-pounder right into the gutter. Brian looks at me and shrugs. I smile and take my turn. I overhear Brian tell Adam that his fly is undone. I hear the zip and laugh so hard that I break my form and send the ball into another lane.

The manager comes over and I apologize to him with my most serious face to show him that I haven't been drinking, but now I believe I will order a pitcher from the snack bar.

We all drink and loosen up, talking about whatever we want until the place closes up. While we're out in the parking lot freezing our asses off, Adam gives Lauren a hug and kisses her on the cheek, then he comes over and shakes my hand then Brian's before driving away.

“I think that went well,” Brian says, shoving his fists into his pockets.

Lauren gives him this look, a stern look that cracks me up. Soon we're all cracking up then I say, “So, do you think he'll call you again?”

“If you boys didn't scare him off.”

“We were on our best behavior,” Brian says.

“Hey, I saw the way he was looking at you,” I say, putting my arm around Lauren.

“And I saw the way you were looking at him,” Brian says.

“He's almost too good to be true, though,” Lauren says under her breath.

We follow Brian to his car. He says, “Most people are. What does your heart tell you?”

“He's a good catch,” she says, smiling. “If I don't screw it up.”

“We promise not to screw it up first,” I say then look at Brian to confirm. “Right, man?”

“I'm not making any promises.” He winks at Lauren, then she starts jumping up and down like a crazy person.

“I really like this guy. And you both better be nice to him because he's been assigned to monitor my progress after I become pregnant.”

“Then I would keep it quiet if I were you,” Brian says. “It could get him in trouble.”

Lauren nods and gets in her car. She starts the engine and rolls down the window to say, “Let's just see if he calls me, okay?”

Then she's gone. Brian says, “He'll call. I can tell he really likes her.”

“I think he likes us, too.” I'm feeling a lot better about myself, but not completely.

Brian

Adam did call Lauren. They've been on a couple other dates since our double, and it sounds like they've really hit it off. I text her before we board the plane and make sure that I've brought plenty of free drink coupons for Damon because he's a wreck.

I make him sit by the window because he's never been on an airplane before. It's going to be terrifying at first, but it's like ripping off a Band-Aid or getting a shot – a quick freak out then it all better.

His nose is pressed to the glass as we taxi on the runway. His hand vibrates in mine. The captain comes over the PA to say howdy.

“I think I got this,” Damon says, breathing deeply with his eyes closed.

“Open your damn eyes.” I squeeze his hand hard. He opens them a little.

We're barreling down the runway. It's loud and adrenaline's pumping through me madly. I lean over and watch the runway slowly disappear as we're thrust back in our chairs.

“Damon, open your eyes! Look!”

The world's shrinking away. Damon watches with wide eyes. He's completely mesmerized. I haven't flown in a while, but it's quite a magical sight to see.

After Damon's had a couple of drinks, he tugs at my arm and points out the window. I look out and see the bent horizon and the cotton ball clouds below us, the sky a brilliantly dark indigo that seems so close to the stars and so far from home.

And we're sharing this moment together.

We drag our luggage from the rental car up to our hotel room. I plan out the next three days in Austin while Damon unpacks our stuff and orders a pizza, which is free since the front desk gave us a coupon. I text Lauren to tell her we arrived safely. She would have flown out with us but she had obligations at work so she's flying in tomorrow.

After we eat, we nap for an hour or so then we drive over to Centurion Care where Dr. Carter is expecting us.

I'm told Damon and I have to give another sperm sample. I ask what was wrong with the first sample. This condescending elderly woman behind the glass says our first sample was for the fertility test. This sample will be used for cellular insertion, or something like that. I just say okay and go sit down. Damon goes back first and I laugh a little because I think he likes having an excuse to masturbate.

Who doesn't?

I can smell the sterilized air circulating through the waiting room. He comes out having finished his business as I go back to do mine. Carter has left a message with the lady at the front desk apologizing for not being able to greet us today. He had a family emergency and says to come by the lab on Thursday to watch the implantation as it happens.

Later that night, I call Lauren from the hotel and wish her good luck. She'll be flying out of Nashville in a few hours and be on her way into Houston then Austin, where she'll be prodded and stuck with cold metal objects grabbling for her eggs. She sounds tired but restless. It's a huge deal for all of us and I make sure she understands my gratitude. I don't know that Damon called her while I was showering, expressing his own appreciation.