by Sandra Alex
Never thought I’d make out like a teenager with a complete stranger. But here I am. Drunk as ever, newly single, freshly divorced. Ask me if I have a clue what I’m doing…I’ll say no. Will I remember this horrible mistake in the morning? Probably not.
What I will remember, however, is the scathing glare I get when I finally open my eyes, drunk from both wine and hormones, and see Nick, my now ex-husband, standing directly across from me.
Chapter 2
Daniel
So, I received my grades back a week ago and my brother didn’t bother to tell me. Turns out I failed a class and missed the opportunity to take it during regular school hours, leaving me the only option of taking it part-time, at night. Lovely. My younger brother Christopher lives with me while his house is being built. Perish the thought of him living with our parents again, God forbid. Instead, he has to make my life a living hell. Now I understand why the guy is still single. He’s an asshole. Why am I still single, you ask? Because I’ve been in school since Christ was a cowboy, that’s why. When I’m not in school, I’m interning at the hospital, and before that I was in the military. I’ve taken the long ride through medical school, only because my dad got sick and my mother had a nervous breakdown in the process. Yeah, my dad got sick while I was in medical school. Irony. Just what I live for.
Now that everyone is well again, to an extent, I’m finishing my education in hopes of opening my own practice. I’m studying to become a physiatrist, in case you were wondering. It’s a term that means that I look after sick people in hopes of rehabilitating them from whatever ailment they have: anything from Scoliosis to Rheumatoid Arthritis. Right now, in my internship, I’m working with a renowned surgeon who specializes in procedures to aid in healing such conditions. And when I’m not studying or working, I’m at the gym offsite or at home. I’m a fanatic on health, hence the field of study.
My dad is a retired military surgeon, and my mom, when she was well, was an obstetrician. Christopher is also in school, studying to be a general practitioner. He’s taking the low road. Ask why he didn’t help out in my parent’s time of need? Because he’s a little momma’s boy and couldn’t grow a pair during a family crisis. My other two brothers and my sister are in the military, following in my dad’s footsteps. I served until my dad got sick; just in time for my deployment to be complete. My other siblings were still on the front lines. Christopher did his first couple of years in the service, but he never was deployed and came home when his mission was finished. I considered going back to finish my education in the military, like my dad and my other siblings did, but the thought of leaving Christopher here, in case dad or mom fell ill again, left me feeling unsettled.
So, I’m taking the slow road. This night school course puts the icing on the cake. Christopher walks into the kitchen just as I’m just receiving a confirmation email from the college with my course information. “Thanks, asshole. I owe you one.” I say, not hiding the hateful tone.
“What’s your problem?” he asks, dumbfounded, picking a banana out of the fruit bowl in front of me.
“When you checked the mail a few weeks back, did I get something…oh, I don’t know...from UNC?”
He chews arrogantly with his mouth open. “Oh, yeah. Shit, what was it?”
“A letter letting me know that I have to retake a course.” I’m so pissed off at him I can’t look at him.
“You failed a course?” he asks, showing an inkling of concern.
“It was when dad was sick. I missed too many classes and since dad didn’t die…” I trail off.
“Sorry, man. It must have been the day I got into it with my architect.”
“Oh yeah…while we’re on the subject…when is your place going to be ready?” I say with a facetious edge, as if to say the sooner the better.
“You tired of me already, big brother?” he elbows me in the shoulder as he goes to the garbage to throw the banana peel out.
“I was tired of you before you even moved in.”
“I would never have guessed.” Christopher is flippant. “It should be done by the end of the month.”
Raking my hands through my hair, I draw in a deep breath and let it out. “Thank God.”
“I’m not that bad, am I?” he elbows me again as he walks out of the kitchen. I glare at him, but he doesn’t look back. Two minutes later, he returns. “So, when do you have to make up the class?”
“The class starts in a couple of weeks. Part-time bullshit. This should be fun. Spoiled rotten kids who couldn’t cut it. Good luck doing assignments and shit with them. Hey, you want to take the course, too? Be my wingman?”
He lifts his brows. “I would, but I’ve got enough of my own shit to look after. What’s the course?”
I tell him and he shakes his head. “That’s not even part of my curriculum. Sorry, brother.”
“Of course not.”
Christopher pats my shoulder. “You’re so uptight, man. Do you need to get laid or something?”
I wince and look away from him, in disgust. “You’re a pig.”
“Well, do you? I could hook you up.” Christopher offers.
“That’s creepy on so many levels I don’t even know where to start.” I say, rising, walking away from him.
“How about we go club hopping then? I know Peter’s been looking for an opportunity to get his dick wet, too, man. You up for that?”
I want to puke every time he uses that statement. “You talk like this around girls?”
He waves me off. “You’re off tonight. Why don’t we go? You could use a little break, man. I can tell.”
I have been pulling a lot of shifts at the hospital lately. On top of studying and cleaning up after my asshole brother, I haven’t done anything fun for a while, I’ll admit. Even though I’m not even remotely in the mood for it, I know getting out of the house wouldn’t hurt me in the least. “I’ll go for a beer, but that’s it.”
Six hours later, after a nap, a shower, and a great meal compliments of Christopher, to my surprise, we’re at a dance club. Not my idea of fun. My thoughts were a sports pub or something on a smaller scale. This is a meat market playing to the beat of every eighties song you can find on iTunes. The place is packed so tight, the only place we can find to hang out is leaning on a handrail overlooking the dance floor. Christopher’s friend Peter is wearing so much cheap cologne I have to breathe out of my mouth to avoid a full-blown headache.
The music is pounding through my head, but thankfully the beer is dulling the pain. Christopher and Peter are pointing out girls that they think are attractive. None of them do a thing for me so far. Sometimes I wonder if that part of my brain has been permanently shut off. It’s been neglected for so long I wouldn’t be surprised. Christopher brings me a second beer, and things start to look up a bit. There is a group of girls in viewing distance, dancing on the floor. One girl looks like she belongs in a strip joint, not a dance club, as she’s covered in tattoos and sporting bleached blonde hair. The other girl is chubby but at least she looks more respectful than her blonde friend. One girl is hitting on another guy and being oh-so-subtle with her hand gestures. The girl who catches my eye has her hair up on top of her head in a tidy little knot. She’s respectfully dressed in a shirt that covers everything, with jeans just tight enough to show off her cute little bum. I watch her while she seems to plummet into drunkenness, sip by sip.
“I’ll be back.” I say, excusing myself to go the washroom. My plan is to go and then leave this place, before the second beer kicks in. This place is lame and I’m so not in the mood. Christopher had the right idea, but I’ve got too much on my mind to be thinking about picking up a girl; especially at a place like this. As I walk out of the restroom, I smack right into the brunette I saw on the dance floor. Her hair is down, pooling around her shoulders and down her breasts. She’s got hazel eyes that stand out a mile, without a drop of makeup. Her teeth are straight as a pin as she smiles at me. I stammer an apology and she does the same, as I
realize I’m touching her arm. Although she doesn’t seem bothered, I remove it, and nod goodbye to her.
Christopher’s eyes are on me as I return to my post. “Who’s the brunette?” he asks.
I look back at her, while she’s still standing in the same spot. “Bumped into her…literally.”
“Maybe you’ll bang into her later.” Christopher winks and Peter chuckles.
I roll my eyes and try to ignore the disgusting comment, but I can’t help but notice that she’s running onto the dance floor as a Bon Jovi tune comes on. Looks like the wine is doing its job based on how her body is moving. Not to discredit her, but she’s definitely not a professional, and thank God for that. Christopher and Peter are chuckling, watching her little makeshift strip tease. “She’s hot. Gotta admit that.” Peter says. I choose not to comment, even though I’m thinking that aside from the obvious drunkenness, that she’s got a thing or two going for her.
Suddenly the song changes and she spots me, and motions for me to go to her. Peter and Christopher smirk at me. That second beer has kicked in poignantly and she’s not taking no for an answer. Her friends are whistling, encouraging her to do what she’s doing. I play along as I approach her. Arms snaked around my neck, this girl starts grinding her body into mine, making me feel things I haven’t felt since Tracy in high school, the girl I had my first sexual experience with, and several thereafter. I’m no dancer, but we’re not really dancing. It’s more swaying erotically to the music.
When she turns her back to me, her ass is suddenly rubbing up against…well, things that appear slightly larger than they did a minute or so ago. Her arms snake around my neck again, as she plays with the hair at my neckline, giving me shivers. As if that wasn’t enough erotica for a guy for one night, she kisses me. Quickly at first, but then her tongue is in my mouth…and I’m lost. Normally I wouldn’t play along with such a public display, but her mouth is so…soft…delicious…tempting. Suddenly, I’m back in high school with Tracy, making out behind the bushes by the track and field asphalt. We’re kissing for what seems like hours, when she finally pulls back, and her eyes widen.
There’s a dude behind me, looking like he’s about to punch my lights out. Or hers. It’s difficult to tell, but I stick around for a minute, just to make sure that she’s okay. When she starts screaming at him, I walk away, thinking I’m so outta here and I’m never coming back or doing anything like this ever again. My hard-on is gone for good, to say the least. At least that’s one last thing l won’t have to deal with tonight. Peter and Christopher are already waiting for me at the front. They don’t ask any questions. They know this is done.
…but not for good.
Chapter 3
Kayla
Nick’s face turned from rage to crushed in a matter of seconds after Mr. Handsome left. He said he was there with friends and denied stalking me, which I believe. Nick isn’t the clingy type. Nor the possessive type. As much as I hate to admit it, this divorce has been as tough on him as it has been on me. This was just a wrong-place-at-the-wrong-time kind of situation. Besides, from what I understand, I think Nick already has a girlfriend. Why would he be stalking me if that were true? Sure, it would be upsetting to see me sucking face with a guy ten times better looking than him on the exact day that our divorce was final, but he wouldn’t have been following me, searching for reasons to vent. Nick is already over me. So over me. If I’m honest with myself, I think he was seeing a girl long before we actually separated, but I’d never ask him. All the signs were there. We had zero sexual relations for the last year we were together. In the end, I guess I didn’t care anymore. I knew we were done.
When Nick left with his friends, he didn’t look back. The girls tried to talk me into staying for a few more songs, but I’d had enough. My head was swimming and I already felt like I wanted to puke.
“You want me to stay with you tonight?” Heather asks as we pull up to my house. I don’t remember how I answer. All I remember is waking up next to the toilet bowl in the early morning hours. My face is pressed onto the floor, cold as the porcelain tile. My head pounds and I want to die from both shame and from drinking way over my limit.
“Some friend you are.” I groan as I lift my head off the floor. Hairs from my head are stuck to my dry lips, and I pull them away, feeling my head pound. I hear Heather move around in my bed, but she doesn’t respond immediately.
“What are you talking about? I held your head for the first round.” She giggles.
“You suck. You all suck. I’m never doing that again.” I lift off the floor, feeling like I’m a hundred years old.
“Alright, alright. I admit it wasn’t the best idea. But at least you got to make out for a bit…with an exceptionally handsome guy, who was built like a brick shit house, I’ll add.”
Sitting on the edge of my bed, I run a hand through my disheveled hair. “Just what my mission in life is.” Sarcasm drips from my voice.
“Well, that part of the night was fun, wasn’t it?” Heather pokes.
“Fine. It was fun. But not the aftermath.”
“Come on. You’ll never see the guy again. What’s the big deal?”
I sigh, resting my head on the pillow. “The deal is I’m not doing that again. I can’t handle alcohol; I make a complete ass out of myself. Who knows what would have happened had Nick not shown up. I might have slept with him, you know. That’s the last thing I need.”
“Or the first.” Heather teases.
“Look, I don’t need anything other than a fresh start, and I’m getting that. Far as I’m concerned everything else will fall into place.” I say as my cell phone starts ringing. I’m surprised it didn’t ring while we were out last night, but no news is good news. As soon as I pick up the call, I know my plan to go back to bed has been kyboshed. “Mom, what’s wrong?” I say, my tone is clipped with concern.
“I’m at the hospital, Kayla. The doctor’s been in to see me already. Just thought I would let you know. I think I’m okay.”
“Jesus Christ, mom. Why didn’t you call me?”
“I am calling you, sweetie. I knew you were out last night. You need a break, baby. I didn’t want to bother you until I had to.”
My mom has been sick for a long time. Not with just one thing, but several. Most of her illnesses have been ongoing since childhood. I’m lucky to have been born, frankly. And she’s lucky to still be alive. Between heart problems, mobility issues, and the fact that she’s blind, my poor mom has spent more time in hospital than she has at home in the last five years. The doctors told her ten years ago that she’d have a year to live after her first heart attack and open-heart surgery. Hence the hurried wedding with Nick. My mom wanted grandchildren and believe me, we tried, but nothing ever happened. Nick swears it’s my fertility, but we never had it checked, or his, for that matter.
“What happened? Was your blood pressure high again?”
“I fainted. They sent me in right away, bless them.” The ‘they’ that mom is referring to are the staff at the long-term health care facility that she lives at. We considered having her live with us, but mom’s health is so precarious, she needs around the clock attention.
“Give me a half hour. I’m on my way.” I hang up and look at Heather. She’s as used to this routine as I am.
“Want some company?” She offers.
“Up to you.” I say, running to the shower.
“You hungry?” Heather asks.
“I’d rather die than eat right now.” I shudder, feeling slight relief a few minutes later as the warm water runs down my back and through my hair. I want to drink the shower water I’m so dehydrated, and I know I’ve committed a class A no-no as far as my health is concerned. Luckily, I’ve inherited none of my mother’s health problems, but I’ve always vowed to myself that I would take special care because good health should never be taken for granted.
Twenty minutes later we’re in Heather’s car on our way to the hospital. Mom is her typical self when we a
rrive. She acts like there isn’t anything wrong and I love her for that. Mom has never been the type to sit and pity herself, which is probably why she’s lived as long as she has. I give her a kiss on the cheek, and she smiles at me. “Did you have fun last night?”
Heather elbows me in the ribs and I give her a look. “Yes. I had a little too much to drink. But it was fun.”
“You didn’t have to hurry over here, sweetie. The home could have picked me up.”
I scoff. “Oh, that’s rich, mom. Your hungover daughter had so much fun she couldn’t take care of her mother. That would go down in history very badly. Not happening.” I cut the air with my hand for emphasis.
“You’re allowed to live, too, dear.” Mom says as if what I’ve just said is ridiculous.
“I am living, mom. I’m going back to school, remember?”
“I remember.” Mom says. “Did you meet anyone last night?” Ever hopeful, mom still dreams of being a grandma.
“No, mom.” I lie…technically. Let’s face it, I didn’t even get the guy’s name and I’ll never see him again.
“Your divorce final?” She asks.
“As of yesterday. That’s why the girls took me out to celebrate.”
I give Heather a look and she winks at me.
“It’s not too late for kids, Kayla.” Mom reminds me. I detect a slight warning in her tone. “I know it was Nick who couldn’t conceive. Your father and I got pregnant by sharing the same soap.”
I bark out a laugh and Heather doesn’t hold hers in.
“Mom, you’re a card. And I’m not hopping into bed with the first guy I meet just so you can have a grandchild.” I playfully push her shoulder, so she knows that I’m teasing her as she’s teasing me.
