Unsettled (5 page)

Alex walked ahead while I fished a ten out of my billfold for the tip. I scooped up my coat and buttoned it closed.

“When you’re mine…” Alex sang out in an impromptu rendition of Michelle Black’s
When I Do
. Alex’s unsavory crooning caused other patrons in the grill to eye us as if we were leapers. I did nothing but smile and chuckle in amazement at my dear friend. Alex never got embarrassed about her silly ways. She was pretty entertaining when tipsy. At times I wished I could be as uninhibited as her.

I stopped next to Alex and she locked her arm in mine. “Ready, Thelma?” she asked.

“As I’ll ever be, Louise,” I replied, playing along.

“You’re crazy, Alex!” I laughed out softly. Alex just shrugged and smiled. She continued to deafen anyone within earshot as we made our way to the front door.

As we pushed through the wood door exiting Legends, thoughts of Damon coming to visit filtered through my mind. On cue I brushed my fingertip over the tear that had unwillingly escaped my eye.

“Brooklyn, are you crying?” Alex asked, instantly concerned. It was amazing how quickly she sobered up when she thought something was bothering me; that was why I loved Alex to pieces. She’d always been one of my strongest support pillars, even if she was a lovesick meddler.

“No, I had a fab night, Louise! You know how my eyes water when the weather is chilly,” I said, matching Alex’s banter.

“Oh okay… yeah, you’re a regular water fountain during the winter months,” she said. She seemed to be contemplating my response but said nothing more.

With that we made our way into the waiting cab. As we headed home, my stomach was in knots. I had never lied to my best friend purely to save face.

4

I
couldn’t breathe. I saw her below me. I couldn’t make out her face, but I knew she was someone close. Something was wrapped around her ankles, I thrust myself deeper into the darkness. The salty red water was all around me. Claps of thunder rang in my ears, but I plunged further into the bottomless abyss. Intense fear gripped my heart valve so tightly I thought it would burst, but I knew she needed me.

When I finally reached her, her eyes were padlocked shut.

Oh…God…no…

I wrapped my hand around her tiny wrist. She was so light—like a rag doll. Panic weighed me down as I flailed my body in every possible direction, trying to free her.

My teeth clenched as I seared in pain—the cramping in my stomach was overwhelming. I tried to scream for help, but the sounds came out in muffled gurgles. My lungs were barraged with overwhelming amounts of water. My body was betraying me. I was being overtaken by pain and my lungs were not absorbing enough oxygen. I fought with every swipe of my arm, trying to claw my way back to the surface with her in tow. All she needed was air, but the cord wouldn’t give.

I couldn’t breathe and my head was full of fuzz. I tried to push myself to the surface, but everything went black.

MY ALARM CLOCK JOLTED
me out of my nightmare. I took a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart and settle my shaking limbs. I reached over and banged my hand around on the nightstand until I successfully disengaged the alarm. I sat up, and instantly regretted my decision. The light peeking through my curtains pierced my eyes and made my throbbing headache worse. When the room started to spin, I lay back down, running my hand over my chilly forehead. It had been awhile since I’d had that nightmare.

I slid further under my comforter. My stomach was queasy and I had a long day ahead of me. Although it was Friday, I hadn’t the slightest idea how I would make it through the entire day with a hangover.

I tried to lie still in bed, but my bladder wouldn’t let me. All of a sudden, I had the profuse urge to pee. As soon as I made it through my bathroom doorway my intestines started performing gymnastic moves, somersaulting repeatedly.
Damn it! Why did I drink so much last night?

My morning breath was atrocious and I could still taste the remnants of last night’s grenadine and vodka on my tongue. Bile was churning in my gut and I knew that a profuse vomit was on the horizon. I instinctively closed the door behind me in an attempt to spare Alex and Jay from hearing my wrenching noises.

I leaned over the toilet with one hand on the wall for support; my eyes started to gloss over. My hair was falling into my face, but I didn’t care. I stood in front of the toilet for a few minutes in anxious anticipation. The skin on the back of my neck felt clammy. I reflexively clenched my teeth together in an attempt to keep myself from gagging.

As I recounted all the reasons why I really hated throwing up in my head, spontaneous projectile mayhem began. Every time I took a breath and my body contracted, one of the emotions I attempted to suppress with last night’s martinis rose to the surface like fleur de sel off the coast of France. After five minutes of heaving I was sure my sorrow, devastation, and unadulterated hate for the one person I had actually loved wholeheartedly despite his flaws was out of my system.

As angelic voices sang “Hallelujah” in my head, I collapsed to the cold tile floor. I hunched over near the toilet, resting my head against the wall. My hair was plastered to my face, courtesy of the cold sweat droplets that had formed on my forehead. Somehow I had also managed to get specs of vomit in my hair. I was nauseated further by the smell permeating from my shoulder. I tugged the elastic hair tie from my wrist to pull my hair into a loose ponytail behind my neck.

I was infuriated with myself. After all the time that had passed, I was still letting what happened with Damon affect me. I felt like an idiot for using my routine martini night to numb myself of my true depravity. I thought I’d given myself enough time to get over him—to get over everything—but my ingesting more martinis than socially acceptable on a weeknight proved otherwise.

The big fat scarlet
F
for failure loomed over my head as I propped myself against the wall. As I pondered the catastrophe I called my life, I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

“Are you okay in there, Brooklyn?” Jay said on the other side of my bathroom door. He was one of the last people I wanted to speak with at the moment. I had no issues with him, but I didn’t want to be bothered.

I cleared my throat to answer in the strongest voice possible.

“Yeah Jay, I’m fine, just had a bit too much to drink last night. You know I’ve never been able to hold my liquor well,” I said, freeing residual spittle from my throat. “I probably should’ve eaten more food before meeting up with Alex last night for drinks.”

“Oh…okay. Can I get you anything before I head out?” he said.

“Could you just turn on the tea kettle? I won’t be eating much today,” I replied sullenly.
Could you also keep your dipshit cousin away from me?
That would have been even more preferable.

“Gotcha covered Brooklyn. I’ll see you later, I have to get to work,” he called back through my door. I was glad our conversation ended so swiftly. Jay’s booming voice made me long for an aspirin.

“Thanks Jay. You’re doing me a solid,” I replied hoarsely.

“Anytime.”

I heard him retreat away from my bathroom door toward the kitchen.
Alone, finally!
My eyes started to flutter and my mind went dark as I nodded off into oblivion. Between my restless night’s sleep and my recent writhing over the toilet, I was physically exhausted.

I jumped abruptly when I heard the whistle of the teakettle through my bathroom door. The noise of the kettle was equivalent to having a freight train chugging and tooting along the track of my skull.

I pulled myself off the floor using the towel rack above my head for support. I swung the door open with irritation and dragged my weary body toward the kitchen, increasing my pace infinitesimally to snatch the kettle off the stove and stop the incessant screeching.

As I rounded the corner, Alex was lifting the kettle off the fiery eye.

“I see someone is in need of hangover tea this morning,” Alex said, putting her hand to her mouth to contain an escaping yawn.

“Yeah…you don’t seem to be affected though,” I uttered listlessly.

“Nope, I’m fine,” she retorted, slightly beaming. She handed me a mug full of Earl Grey and then turned back to the stove to prepare her own cup.

“Thanks,” I whispered, clasping my hand around the mug. “Well aren’t you just a lucky dog? I could definitely have done without the vomit session this morning.” I still had a little spunk left in me after my dreadful morning over the toilet.

“That I am,” she countered, tossing her megawatt smile in my direction and batting her lashes in an even haughtier manner. She blew her tea and took a few slurps. “I think I will even make a special batch of buckwheat pancakes and runny eggs. Doesn’t that just sound delish?” she asked with false timidity, placing her finger on her cheek as if she was in serious contemplation. Alex always found a way to turn my misery into comedy—at my expense, of course.

“You are such a bitch,” I muttered. I had a potty mouth that I desperately needed to get in check, but Alex knew I was more bark than bite.

“Oh my goodness—thank you, thank you, please hold your applause!” she stated, like I had just told her she’d earned a perfect score on the bar exam.

I had no more witty comebacks, so I turned from the kitchen and made my way to the dining room table. I relaxed into the chair and sipped my tea in silence. She had prepared my tea just the way I liked it: two sugar cubes and a dash of milk. I knew there was a good reason why I kept her around as my best friend. I smiled.

“When did you start throwing up? I didn’t think you’d be hung over this morning. I don’t remember you having that many drinks.”

“I didn’t start hurling until this morning,” I said, taking a gulp of my Earl Grey. “I didn’t think I had that many, either.”

The more I sat at the dining table, the worse I felt. By the time I finished drinking my tea, I had made the decision to call in sick after all. I wasn’t in the mood to put up with Trent or be forced to sit at my desk while fluorescent lights glared down on me like impenetrable sunrays. Staying in to recuperate was my best option.

“What time are you going into work today?” Alex asked on cue, as if she were reading my thoughts. “You’re already way behind on making Trent’s coffee,” she said, standing behind the kitchen island.

“I’m calling in sick,” I said. “I feel like crap, and honestly I don’t want to deal with Trent’s shit on top of that. I have a few things I need to get done before the weekend is over, anyway.”

“Right on Phenomenal Woman, hear you roar!” Alex found it amusing when I rebelled against “the man” and used profanity in the early hours of the morning. I, on the other hand, just rolled my eyes at her disingenuous comment.

“Leave me alone,” I murmured as I bowed my body to rest my head atop my folded arms on the table.

“Well, some of us actually have to work for a living! Sorry I can’t crash with you today. I’d much rather have a girls’ day than be cooped up reviewing tort law cases.”

“That’s okay. It’s not like this was a planned vacation day.”

“True,” she agreed. “Well, I better get dressed. I have to be at work in forty-five minutes.”

“Hey, can you take me to pick up Aspen when you get home this evening? It’s still at Legends.”

“Sure, no problem,” she replied, turning to place her cup in the sink.

“Thanks, see you when you get home.”

Twenty minutes later Alex was out the door. I hesitated before finally heading towards my room to lie down. I was not exactly thrilled to be alone with my thoughts.

I had kept a straight face and the mood light the entire cab ride home, but ended up collapsing onto my bed in a crying mass once I was in the privacy of my room. I tortured myself further by repetitively listening to the R&B song “Differences,” that Damon had dedicated to me so long ago.

I called into the office and asked Marci to let Trent know that I ate bad Chinese for dinner last night and I wouldn’t be coming into work. I wanted to get a couple things done with my impromptu free time, but I could only muster enough strength to crash into my bed and let my mattress and blankets envelope me in a warm cocoon.