Sins of the Flesh (Exposed Series Book 1) (5 page)

But that happened, didn’t it? People had all sorts of strange
reactions to finding out that they were going to die. Sometimes they decided they
wanted to take other people with them.

But not me. My reaction had been to get drunk and sleep with an
old flame, and it kind of pissed me off that I didn’t feel a whole lot better.
If anything, I felt sicker than I had in years. Though I did feel some
satisfaction about the fact that at least I’d brought it on myself.

But why did I have to be so all or nothing? How come, even in my
forties, I still felt the need to get drunk if I was going to have a drink? How
come whenever I worked out (which I tried to do at least four times a year), I
overdid it to the point where I couldn’t walk or lift my arms above my head for
weeks afterwards?  And how come every time I started a box set, I had to finish
it as soon as possible, even if it meant going to work exhausted and having
nothing to look forward to?

What was my problem? I couldn’t think of a single example in my
life of something that I did in moderation.

I was either ahead on all my bills or behind on all of them. My
apartment was either full of healthy plants or they were all dead, and my
fridge was either stocked or it was empty.

Perhaps I had never grown up. Or maybe I was damaged from all
the drugs I used to do. Or maybe it was just bad genes.

Then again, I had a sister who was the veritable queen of
moderation and rationality. She got drunk once in high school and puked. I’m
pretty sure she never got drunk again. As far as I’m concerned that makes her a
quitter.

I used to think she was really lame, but over the years I’ve
decided she’s just bionic. She was always better at everything than me except
for partying, having fun, and giving advice.

Not because her advice wasn’t good. Most of the time it was exactly
what Martha Stewart would say. But her opinion is irrelevant for the average
flawed individual.

For the record, I was also always better at word games, but a
lot of good that’s done me. Of course, I resent her for way more reasons than I
have the energy to go into now.

Anyway, that morning, I found myself unable to sleep or eat or
smoke or remove my leather pants. Which had taken on a sort of boa constrictor
like hold on my increasingly swollen right leg. So grabbed a half full bottle
of red wine and went to my bedroom.

Then I did something I hadn’t done in a long time. I reached
into the back of my closet for my favorite shoebox, sat on the floor, and
lifted the lid.

The box was filled with mementos from all the happiest times in
my life. There were pictures of me and Tina all over the world and pictures of
me with old boyfriends at concerts. There were even pictures of me and my
sister from before we were old enough to understand that we had nothing in
common and no business being friends.

Half way down there was a copy of the only cd I ever recorded
when I sang backup vocals for Mick’s band. Just under it was a picture of us
eating from each other’s ice cream cones the day we recorded it. In it, I was
wearing enough makeup to seal a hornet’s nest.

Wedged along the box’s perimeter was a stack of twenty seven
pictures of me lying naked on a bed in Paris. They were taken by a photographer
I spent a romantic weekend with in my twenties. He was my first older man.

Essentially, it was a shoebox sized monument to my best memories,
and it gave me some peace of mind. At least no one could say I hadn’t lived. No
one could say I hadn’t packed life into my years.

But no one could say I was without fault either. Because at the
very bottom of the box, there was a picture that reminded me of the most
painful memories I had. It was a picture of all my greatest failings captured
in one shot.

The photo featured Scott and I at a Fourth of July barbeque. In
it, he had ketchup on his cheek, and I had it on my mouth. And I was wearing a
pretty red sundress that I used to love, and we were both smiling from ear to
ear.

Because he didn’t know yet that I was pregnant.

It was the last picture we ever took together.

I was relieved to see my Dad when he pulled up. My Mom would’ve
been pissed and scary, and I was too drunk to deal with that.

“Thanks for calling me,” my Dad said to the officer standing
next to me. Then he glanced in my direction. “Get in the car.”

I stood up from the curb and started towards the passenger side,
keeping my eyes on my feet as I put one foot in front of the other.

“I won’t be able to do it again, Fred. You know that,” I heard the
cop tell my Dad. “It was just a favor this once.”

“Of course,” my Dad said. “One less report to write up tonight though,
right?”

I don’t know how my Dad knew the policeman. He must’ve done his
fencing. You’d think my Dad’s company built every fucking fence in the state
for how many people he knew. It was about time his connections worked in my
favor.

When my Dad finally sat in the driver’s seat, he didn’t start
the car. But he didn’t look at me either.

“Say something, Dad,” I said.
“Please. I can tell you’re bursting to say something.”

“Jesus.” He shook his head. “Can
you even hear yourself? How many drinks did you have tonight?”

I looked at him as apologetically
as I could and shrugged in time with a hiccup. “I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Do you know how lucky you are?
If this got back to your school…”

“I know. I know.”

“I’m so sick of this shit, Kate.”
He sighed but kept his eyes forward. “You know what your Mom told me?”

I swallowed and shook my head.

“She said you told her you were
going to a birthday party at Julie’s, that the Clarks would be home, and that
you were going to sleep over at Danielle’s house.”

“That last part is true.”

“Well one out of three is nothing
to celebrate, is it?” he said. “You think you’re Mom’s going to focus on that
part?”

“No.”

“So why did you tell such a
blatant lie?”

“What was I supposed to do? Say Trey’s
parents were out so we were all going to drink at his house?”

My Dad let his head fall against
his headrest and closed his eyes.

“She’d never let me go anywhere
if I told the truth! I’m not even supposed to drive South of Lake Street. Even
if Trey’s parents had been home I wouldn’t have been allowed to come!”

He sat up and looked at me. “Oh
my God. You drove here, didn’t you? And got this drunk.” He looked away
disgusted and turned on the ignition. “Unbelievable.” 

“I didn’t drink until I was
parked for the night,” I said. Which was almost true. “And I wasn’t going to
drive again after we got here. Danielle and I were going to
walk
back to
her house later.”

“Oh right. That was a good plan.
I feel so much better about your ability to make good decisions.” He drove
slowly with both hands clenching the wheel. “And how were you going to get your
car in the morning?”

“Danielle was going to drop me
off. We had it all worked out!”

“Clearly.”

“C’mon. I know it’s stupid that I
got caught, but I wasn’t doing anything crazy. I was just being a normal kid.”

“Normal kids don’t get this
drunk.”

“Yes they do!” I said. “Everyone
I know drinks, and their parents just look the other way as long as they’re
safe about it.”

“How many times do I have to tell
you that when you start sentences with the words
everyone
or
no one
,
it’s impossible for me to believe anything that comes next?”

“Do you know what happens to kids
who don’t drink in high school, Dad? They go to college and drink so much it
kills them! Cause they’ve never tested their limits in a controlled environment
with people they trust!”

“First of all, that’s ridiculous.
Second of all, there was nothing safe and controlled about that environment.”

I looked out the window and
sighed. I was in no condition to argue. And even if I had been, I didn’t think
this was an argument I could win.

“Thanks for picking me up, Dad.”

He didn’t say you’re welcome. So
we drove the rest of the way in silence, the fuzzy street lights leading us
home.

If only I hadn’t been in the
closet with Ian. I would’ve gotten away.

And Danielle and I would’ve gone
back to her house, made a frozen pizza, and watched Zoolander in her basement
until we fell asleep.

What a different end to the night
that would’ve been...

It was after two when we pulled
in the driveway. I was glad I hadn’t passed out on the ride home. My Dad had
done enough. I doubted he would’ve appreciated having to shake me from a
drunken stupor.

“Is Mom up?” I asked as the
garage door opened.

“Yeah, she’s up,” he said,
sounding about as thrilled as I was.

I followed my Dad into the house.
My Mom was in her robe at the kitchen table. She had thick eye cream spread
under her dark, angry eyes.

I stood at a distance and waited
for my verbal lashing. Most of the time, I wished she would just smack me. At
least that kind of pain would fade. Instead, her attacks were always verbal,
and her words bounced around in my head forever.

She had called me a bitch three
times in my life so far. I only cried the first time, but she cried every time.
Which made me feel a little sick because she must have really meant it.

She stood up and folded her arms.
“I heard the
birthday party
got a little out of hand?”

My Dad disappeared from the room,
terrified that he might be dragged into one of our fights. Or maybe he was just
terrified of my Mom’s horrific evening look. It couldn’t be good for their
marriage for him to see her like that under the bright kitchen lights.

“I’m sorry I lied to you, Mom.”

“You’re sorry you got caught.”

“That, too.”

“Well, you’ll have lots of time
to think about how sorry you are,” she said. “You’re grounded.”

“That’s not fair.”

“What choice have you left me,
Kate? You took the car out and got trashed.”

“But I really was going to sleep
at Danielle’s. I wasn’t going to drink and drive!”

“How can you expect me to believe
anything you say anymore? The only thing I know for sure is that you’re a
danger to yourself and others.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m not a
danger
to anyone, Mom.”

“Not when you’re grounded you’re
not.”

“For how long?!”

“Until further notice. Maybe
until Christmas. Maybe just until after homecoming. I haven’t decided.”

I stared at her and felt my neck
get hot. It was like she knew. Was she seriously out to ruin my life? My only
hope was to act like missing homecoming wouldn’t be the worst thing that could
possibly happen to me. Otherwise, she might become obsessed by the idea and do
something rash.

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“Me too, Kate.”

And then she did the last thing I
was expecting her to do. She went to the kitchen sink, filled up a glass of
water, and brought it to me.

“I’m glad you’re okay, honey,”
she said, handing it to me. “Now take your drunk ass to bed.”

I waved to Tina when she walked into the café and watched her
weave through the tables towards me. As soon as she was within reach, I stood
up and gave her a big hug.

“Please tell me you already ordered,” she said, taking a seat in
our usual corner booth. “I’m starving.”

“Coming from yoga?” I asked, though her pants gave her away.

“Yeah,” she said, smoothing auburn wisps of hair back against
her head. “I’ve been doing the hot one. It’s ridiculous. Do I look as gross as
I feel? I didn’t have time to shower.”

“No. You look fine,” I said. But she looked better than fine. She
always did. In fact, the only thing prettier than Tina on an average day was
Tina with a post workout glow.

“Well?” she said. ”Did you?”

“Yeah, I ordered.” I crossed my legs. “Two chopped salads and a
turkey blt to share.”

“You are the best.”

I shrugged. “So how was your trip?”

“Fantastic.”

“Oh good.”

“Which reminds me.” She reached into her oversized bag. “I got
you a present.”

“You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know,” she said, “which made it so much more fun.” She placed
two gift wrapped boxes on the table in front of me.

I instantly recognized the brown and turquoise wrapping on the bigger
one. “Please tell me this is what I think it is.”