Reinventing Rachel (24 page)

She opened the door and quickly shut it without going in. Daphne was dancing in the middle of the living room in her underwear.

“Good thing Jack didn’t come up,” she muttered as she opened the door again. This time Daphne saw her. She made brief eye contact before turning away. She didn’t stop dancing.

Maybe this was a good sign. She certainly wouldn’t be in a lousy mood if she was dancing like that. Maybe she and Rachel could actually talk, something they hadn’t done in months. If she stopped dancing, of course
.
She didn’t look like she was going to.

Rachel went to the kitchen and pulled out her vodka. “Want some?” she shouted over the music. Daphne whirled to face her, then gave her a thumbs-up. Encouraged by the possibility of a true conversation, Rachel mixed up the drinks—making a particularly weak one for Daphne—and perched herself on the edge of a barstool. Daphne kept dancing until the song began to fade, then she sauntered over with a smile on her face. “Thanks.”

Rachel didn’t mention Daphne’s lack of clothing; she didn’t want to say anything that might break the spell of this rare moment of camaraderie. “You’re in a good mood,” she said with her warmest smile.

“Sometimes a girl’s just gotta dance.”

“Well, think you’d be able to give me some advice while you take a breather?”

“Of course,
ma chéri
e, I’m all ears.”

It was like they’d never fought, like Rachel hadn’t bailed her out of four hundred dollars of debt—like Rachel had just gotten here and things were still as fun as she’d always thought they’d be living with Daphne. “Well, here’s the thing: I met another guy.”

Daphne’s eyes grew round. “Ooooohhh—”

“Now, it’s not what you think. He wouldn’t—doesn’t—want anything to do with me, romantically. He’s a really nice guy, we’ve talked a few times, but there’s no chance there because he’s a Christian. But—it’s made me realize that I’m not really content with Jack. He’s great, he’s sweet—”

“He’s hot, he’s perfect, but you still don’t want him?” Daphne swore. “How picky
are
you?”

Rachel’s heart sunk, but she soldiered on, hoping things would recover. “It’s not that I don’t want him. It’s just that I don’t think he’s the person I want to be with long term. I don’t know—I really like him, I mean
really
, but love—not so much. And I don’t know why, I mean, like you said, he’s perfect.”

Daphne slammed back the remainder of her drink and shook her head. “I told you so. I told you to learn from my mistake and not date a coworker.”

“Yes, I know, but this isn’t so much about Jack’s and my relationship, it’s more about me and—”

“Of course it’s about you! It’s
all
about you, Rachel. All the freaking time.”

Rachel tightened her grip on her drink.
“What are you talking about?”

Daphne’s voice took on a whine. “Wahh, my fiancé cheated on me. Wahh, my perfect family has problems. Wahh, my pretty little God hates me—”

“What are you talking about? Daphne, what is
wrong
with you?”

“With me?
You’re
the one who can’t keep a relationship alive. And I thought I was the dysfunctional one!”

Tears threatened. “How could you?” Rachel said, voice choked by the lump in her throat. “
Why
would you? What have I ever done to you?”

Daphne didn’t answer, and instead stalked to the stereo and turned it back on.

Rachel had had enough. “Fine!” she yelled over the music. “Fine. Start looking for a new roommate, Daphne.” She went to her bedroom and slammed the door just as the music cut out. A sudden pounding on the door made her jump.

“No! Don’t move out,” Daphne said from behind the door. “Please. I’m sorry, Rachel, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I promise.”

Rachel turned up her own stereo to drown out Daphne’s begging, then changed into her pajamas and pulled a bottle of vodka from the bottom drawer of her dresser. She uncapped it and took a swig, then another, then crawled into bed and waited for it to take effect. Eventually Daphne stopped pleading with her, and a few minutes later Rachel heard the front door slam. She closed her eyes in relief and waited for sleep to come.

An hour later she was still wide awake, and annoyed because the vodka still hadn’t kicked in. She took another couple swigs from the bottle, then a few more minutes later, just to be on the safe side. She
really
needed to sleep tonight. When her muscles finally began to unknot she was filled with relief.
Does vodka go bad? Maybe I’ll get another bottle tomorrow, just in case.
This one didn’t seem to be doing the trick.

o

The next day Rachel was working on inventory when her cell vibrated in her pocket. She saw her mom’s number come up and reluctantly answered it. “Hey, mom.”

“Hi, honey. Is this a good time?”

“Well, I’m at work, but if we’re quick it’s not a big deal.”

Her mother sighed. “I’ll make it fast, and you can call me back later if you want to.”

“All right, what’s up?”

“Are you sitting down?”

Rachel laughed. “Um, no. Do I need to be?”

“Well, this came as an awful big surprise to me. Just want to make sure you’re prepared.”

Rachel’s knees felt weak. She went to the office and sat. “Okay, I’m sitting. What’s wrong? Are you and Dad okay?”

“Yes, yes, we’re fine sweetheart. But … I finally heard back from the bank, about those checks.”

“Oh. And?”

“They were cashed by Daphne.”

o

“I’m stunned. Seriously, I’m so in shock I don’t even know what to think.” Rachel leaned her head back against the headrest. “And on top of what happened last night … seriously, Jack, I’m worried she’s losing her mind.”

Jack reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “She’s falling apart.” He pulled the car into a parking spot in front of Subway and came around to open Rachel’s door. “Are you sure Subway is all you want to eat?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” She hadn’t for a week now. All the winter clothes she’d bought hung loose.

Rachel sank into her seat with her sandwich. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I get sick to my stomach when I go home at night, wondering what’s going to happen this time. I can’t keep doing this.”

“No, you can’t. Honestly, Rach, I think this whole mess with Daphne is the root of your depression and all the stress that you’re drinking to alleviate. She’s sucking you dry, emotionally and mentally and physically—even financially. She’s all take and no give, and while, yes, she’s an old friend, and yes, we should, in theory, stick by our friends when they go through hard times, she is so dysfunctional that you need to start considering your own health. This isn’t the same as, ‘My roommate drinks the orange juice straight from the carton and borrows my clothes without asking.’ This is serious. The utilities that you paid for? The emotional abuse? The flat-out stealing of those checks? It’s time to cut bait and run.”

Rachel groaned. “But run to where? I don’t want to move in with some stranger I found on the Internet. And I don’t make enough to get my own place.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking about this for you.”

She sighed and picked at her sandwich bread. “Thanks. Come up with any solutions?”


“Yes. Move in with me.”

She almost dropped her drink. “Are you serious?”

“Yes. I told you, I’ve been thinking about it.”

She chose her words with care. “That’s a really big step.”

He smiled. “Yeah, it is. But here’s the thing: I haven’t dated a ton of women, but I’ve dated enough to know that you’re different, in a good way, and I want to do whatever I can to make our relationship last. We’re good together, when you’re not being ravaged by a psycho roommate, and I’d like for us to take the next step, with all that it entails.”

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Tears began to stream down her face faster than she could blink them back. His hopeful face crumbled. “Rachel, I’m sorry—”

“No, no. Happy tears,” she lied. “It’s just … I wasn’t expecting it.”
Get a grip, get a grip, get a grip. S
he sucked in a few deep breaths and mopped up her cheeks. “I didn’t see that coming at all. And given what a crappy girlfriend I’ve been, it’s a total shock to think you would want to go deeper.”

He looked cautiously relieved. “Okay, good. For a second there you had me worried.”

Rachel bought some more time with a long sip of her soda. “I don’t know what to say, Jack. I mean, this is a huge step. I didn’t even move in with my fiancé when I was engaged. And I don’t want to do it for the wrong reasons. So … can I think about it?”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” She could tell he was disappointed, but she was grateful for his understanding. “You’re totally right, it’s not something that should be a snap decision. I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but you should have time to think about it too. I’m just relieved you didn’t just say no.” He grinned, and put up his hands in a gesture of retreat. “I promise not to push you on this. Take whatever time you need. I won’t bring it up again, okay?”

She sniffed and gave him a small smile. “Thanks.”

“So anyway, changing subjects …” He began to tell her about the refresher course he was taking to prepare for his sports therapy certification, and, while she was excited for him, she was also slightly tuned out. She felt a bit panicky. All she could think was that she wanted out—out of her apartment, out of her relationship with Jack, out of the colossal emotional mess that was consuming her.

The first thing she did once she finally got home was to go straight to her bedroom and drink a couple giant swallows of her vodka. Then she sat at her desk and began looking at rental websites, just to see what all was out there. Not much, it turned out, at least not in her price range without a roommate. And where would she find one of those? She rubbed a hand across her forehead and slapped the laptop shut, then laid down on the bed with a book in hand.

Why isn’t it kicking in?

She took another swallow, then opened the book and tried to read. But she couldn’t track with the plot; her thoughts kept wandering.

Frustrated, she shut the book and turned on the radio, then closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.
Just relax. It’s been five minutes. Just give it a little more time, then it’ll hit and you’ll be able to think more calmly.
But ten minutes later she felt no different.

Drink it all.

The idea popped into her head. She tried to shove it away.

It shoved back.
All of it, just chug it down. There’s more there than Daphne drank, and it’s not like she’s going to come looking for you until it’s too late.

Rachel sat up and gave her head a shake. Where had that come from? Even after finding Patrick and Trisha she hadn’t felt that desperate. Maybe Jack had been right—maybe she was depressed.
It’s been the year from hell. Who would blame me?
Then she thought of her father and wondered if this was a sign of things to come. How had it started for him? With a flash of mania, energy zinging through him as though his veins were high tension wires? Or with a depression that snuck up on him, enveloping him in a haze that put a damper on his emotions and sucked the enjoyment from his life?

Because that would be just my luck, adding mental illness to the mix of crap I’m facing.

No, she wasn’t going to go there. She was blowing all of this out of proportion.
Just focus on right now. Right now, I need to calm down.
Which is what she’d been trying to do for ten minutes, if the stupid vodka would ever start working.

She took another swallow, then another. For a brief moment she considered praying. But then she remembered what happened the last time—the silence, the way things didn’t get better—and realized her situation was bad enough without adding to it with even more expectations that didn’t get met.

She changed into her pajamas and slid beneath the covers. She didn’t want to think about anything else tonight.