by Ellie Cahill
Will: You okay?
Me: Just annoyed.
Rachel started to slide down the brick wall where I’d propped her, but I caught her under the armpits. “Nope! On your feet.”
She opened her eyes and blinked at me. “Oh no,” she said, one delicate finger coming up to touch the cut on my forehead. “You got a boo boo.”
“Yep,” I agreed. “Up you go!” I heaved her up and she managed to get her knees somewhat locked.
Then she leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss right next to the cut. “All better,” she announced, then belched.
I winced. “Thanks.”
The bouncer for the piano bar was keeping an eye on us. I gave him a shrug and a smile. Nothing to see here. We’re cool. Don’t call the cops, okay buddy?
I sent another text to Will: This girl is going to have a rough morning.
The alert came from our ride before he could answer. I gave Rachel a pep talk as we shuffled toward the car. “Okay, we’re going to get you home now. No throwing up, right? That’s a girl. This way. Try to be helpful, okay? Remember, if you’re going to be sick you tell me.”
“She gonna puke in my car?” the driver asked through the open window.
“Nope.” I had no reason to believe that, but I wanted the ride. And it wasn’t far to go, so the odds were at least even. I smiled at him.
He gave me a dubious look, but unlocked the doors. I got Rachel inside and she immediately fell asleep. I had to put her seatbelt on her. The driver sighed and held something out to me over the back seat.
“What is…?” I didn’t have to finish as soon as I took a closer look. It was an air sickness bag. It had a United Airlines logo on it. Had to hand it to the guy, that was pretty smart for anyone working Sixth Street on a weekend. “Thanks.”
Rachel didn’t need the bag, thank god. We made it back to the hotel without incident, although it took me longer to bring her around than I would have liked. We crossed the lobby under the suspicious eye of the desk clerk who I could only give another winning smile. Then another cheerleading session as I loaded Rachel into the elevator. She was making little noises now. Something like a moan, and a kitten’s cry.
“Please don’t,” I whispered to her. “We’re so close to the room now. Please just hold on a little longer.”
Her hiccups started again in earnest while I fumbled with the keycard.
“Open, open, openopenopen!” I chanted while I swiped it first slow, then fast, then medium. Thank fucking god the light turned green, and I ripped the door open, hauling Rachel through and into the bathroom in the knick of time.
“Thank you Jesus!” I shouted, thrusting both fists in the air. This was possibly the most excited anyone had ever been about someone else throwing up.
That’s when my phone rang.
15
Drunk-Sitting Doesn’t Pay Well
It was Will. I answered it, unable to disguise the confusion in my voice. “Hello?”
“You’re okay.”
“Yeah…why?”
“I sent you a few messages and you didn’t answer. I thought something might have happened.”
“No, sorry, I was busy playing barf goalie. I needed my hands free.”
“Oh.” He sounded embarrassed. “Right.”
I decided to rib him. “I didn’t realize being your +1 gave you full access to my whereabouts.”
“You disappeared in the middle of a conversation. You were with a drunk girl surrounded by other drunk tourists. Forgive me for thinking something might have gone wrong.”
I sighed and sank down on the end of the nearest bed. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying…sorry.”
“No, I—fuck.”
“It was sweet of you to check on me.”
“Yes it was, you brat.”
I laughed. “How did I forget how humble you were?”
“That’s what happens you deny yourself my presence for years.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re the one who ran away to California. I was still here when you left, remember? I was still here when all of you left.”
The sounds coming from the bathroom were not pretty. I knew I should get Rachel a glass of water, but I figured I’d wait for a lull in the disgusting noises.
“I guess you were.”
“Can’t help noticing you came home to Texas, by the way. What did you think of California? Not for you? Too Hollywood?”
“Irvine is not Hollywood,” he was quick to point out. “It was fine. I liked it. A lot, actually. But I knew I’d come back here before I even left.”
“Yeah?”
“Yep,” he sighed. “Brady Construction.”
There was that thing again. That certain tone that told me things were not quite as Will would like. I didn’t know what to say, so I just went with something stupid. “Once a Texan, always a Texan.”
“Yeehaw,” he said.
“Just a second, I have to check on my drunk girl.” Rachel had gone quiet in the bathroom, so I slipped off my shoes and tiptoed to the door, pushing it open a few inches. “Rachel?” I asked.
She groaned in response, which I took as a good sign. She was conscious, sort-of responsive, and not choking to death. Wins across the board. I pushed the door a little further until it bumped into her legs. She was sprawled on the floor with her head between the toilet and the bathtub. I couldn’t see her face well, since her hair was stuck to her lips.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Room…spinning,” she mumbled.
“Okay. I’m gonna leave you some water.” I filled one of the hotel cups from the sink and set it on the floor near her hand. I probably should have made her sit up and sip some, but I felt like I’d already done an awful lot for this girl I’d just met. “Good luck,” I told her.
“How’s she doing?” Will asked in my ear.
“She’ll live. But I wouldn’t want to be her tomorrow.”
“You just gonna leave her in the bathroom?”
“Pretty much.” Checking in the closet, I found a spare pillow on the top shelf and took it in to the bathroom. After a moment’s consideration, I decided to just leave it on the floor near the cup of water. I also decided to leave the lights on so she’d have the best odds of finding the toilet again if she needed it. “I gave her a pillow,” I told Will.
“You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”
“You know it.”
“So now what?” Will yawned, stretching out the word what. “You going to bed?”
“Claire said I should come back to the Dirty and find them, but…”
“Fuck that?” he asked.
“Yeah, I’m thinking I’m done for the night.”
“You gonna curl up on the bathroom floor with your new friend?”
“I’m going to pick out a nice bed and be asleep by the time the rest of them get back.”
Will chuckled. “They are gonna wake your ass up for sure.”
“Probably.” I made my way into the adjoining room with my overnight bag. At least I’d have my choice of all the beds in the suite. And unfettered access to the unoccupied bathroom. Let the rest of them figure out how to deal with Rachel. “I can’t believe you’re still awake, by the way.”
“I’m finally starting to get sleepy.”
“Am I that boring?”
“Uh huh.” He yawned again. “Keep talking. I’ll be out cold in minutes.”
“Hardy har. I should hang up on you.” I tossed my bag on one of the beds and pulled out pajamas and found my tooth brush and toothpaste.
“Tell me what you did tonight,” he said.
I started a recitation of all the places we’d gone while I carried my stuff into the bathroom. I put the phone on speaker and set it on the counter so I could brush my teeth, all the while continuing to talk.
“What the hell are you doing?” Will interrupted.
“Brushing my teeth,” I said around a mouthful of foam.
“I can barely understand you.”
/> I slurped up a cupped handful of water and spit. “Sorry.”
“Go on.”
So I kept talking. About Claire’s friends and how I’d realized I didn’t know much about Claire’s life these days outside of family occasions when we saw each other. And the dirty song the pianist had sung using Claire’s name at the piano bar. And how many people had asked about the cut on my face.
And after a couple minutes, I realized the only way I was going to get to bed any time soon was if I got into my pajamas while I talked. So I set the phone on the counter again, chatting into the speaker while I stripped off my party dress. Standing there in my bra and panties I suddenly felt exposed, as if Will could see me through the phone.
Feeling silly, I quickly ducked into my tank top before unhooking my bra and sliding it out though one armhole. There. I was covered again. No magically sneaking a peak at me, sir.
“Your turn,” I said. “Talk to me.”
“I’m sleepy,” he mumbled.
“Come on. One thing. I’m chattering at you like a parrot.” And I had to pee, damn it. I needed a moment and a reason to put the phone on mute. “What else did you do on the house today?”
“Not too much,” he said sleepily. “I replaced a rotted piece of subfloor…” he went on with a to-do list that would make most people cry, though he called it ‘not too much.’
I finished in the bathroom, did one more peek in at Rachel, who was out cold and breathing noisily. Good enough. I decided on the bed farthest from the door. It wouldn’t make any difference once they all came crashing in, but at least I could minimize the number of times I’d get bumped into. I hoped.
Snugged under the blankets, I listened to the rise and fall of Will’s voice as he sleepily went through the rest of his day. He paused to yawn over and over again, which made me yawn every time.
“You still awake?” he asked.
“Mmm hmm.”
There was a very long pause before he said, “Me, too.”
I don’t know if he said anything after that, because I was asleep.
16
At Least You’re Not Bleeding
Nobody else came back to the hotel until sometime after six. I’d gotten about four hours sleep, and that was just going to have to do. Because there was no way in hell I was going to get a wink of sleep after they arrived. They were regular loud when they came in, until one of them saw me sleeping—well, “sleeping” by that point—and shout-whispered to everyone else to be quiet. Then they were quiet loud in the way that only drunk people can be. They all had ringing ears from the club still, so even if they tried to whisper it was loud. And none of them could hear each other.
Then someone walked in on Rachel and screamed.
I sat up in bed, immediately convinced that something horrible had happened while I was supposed to be watching out for her. Had she tried to get up and fallen? Had she drowned in her own vomit like some half-assed rockstar?
“What happened?” I was out of bed and on my feet, rushing to the bathroom.
“It smells like vomit!” One of the girls, presumably the screamer, was standing outside the bathroom with her hand clamped over her mouth. “I can’t stand the smell of puke! I makes me have to puke!”
“Eww!” someone else added. “Don’t throw up! If you throw up, I’ll throw up!”
“No one is throwing up!” I shouted. “You, go to the other bathroom.” I pointed the screamer toward the other room. “You, don’t think about it,” I told the second girl.
“Hadley!” Claire said in a strangled whisper. She wasn’t trying to be quiet. She’d clearly lost her voice over the course of the night. “You didn’t come back out!”
“I was so tired,” I hedged.
“We missed you.” My cousin lurched toward me and gave me an exhausted hug. “We met this DJ and he took us to an afterparty and it was in an old church but it wasn’t a church and the music was insane and then we were so hungry and god I’m tired.”
It was at times like these that I felt most torn between Fear Of Missing Out, and Joy Of Missing Out. It sounded like a wild night. The kind of night these girls would talk about for the rest of their lives. Part of me wished I had gone back out. Kept on my dancing shoes and called a Lyft to the club. Stuck it out. But part of me was so glad I hadn’t had to go. I wasn’t good at being out. I always wondered when I’d get to go home. I fixated on how sore my feet were and how much I wanted to sit down.
Now, as these exhausted, hyped-up, fizzing, spent girls staggered out of their shoes and discovered blisters on their heels and toes and guzzled water directly from the taps and pounded on the bathroom doors demanding entry, I knew I wasn’t part of the narrative. I’d slipped out of their story at the same time as Rachel, but unlike Rachel, they’d barely remember I’d been there at all. Only Claire would know.
I smiled at the bride-to-be, determined not to let her feel bad for me or about me. “Sounds amazing! I’m glad you had fun.”
“I’m so tired,” she repeated.
“Let’s get you to bed, then, okay?”
She nodded.
I made sure my cousin knew where her pajamas were and I set an alarm on her phone to wake her up at 11. With late check-out, they might just get their shit together in time.
Then I got myself dressed in shorts and a tank top and let myself out of the room before everyone was even in bed.
I headed toward the airport-adjacent neighborhood, stopping to get an enormous iced coffee for myself, a huge Coke for Will, and a pair of breakfast sandwiches. Music up, windows down to appreciate the cool morning air, I followed the GPS to the same spot I’d been to the day before.
The RV was in the driveway, and once again I couldn’t hear any sounds from the house. That didn’t mean he wasn’t inside, I knew, but I took a chance and knocked on the RV’s door.
“Just a second,” came a shout from within.
“It’s Hadley,” I called.
“Hadley?” The entire RV jiggled as he moved. I saw his shape through the window in the second before he opened the door. He was bare-chested, and wearing only athletic shorts as he’d been the first night he’d stayed at his parents’ house. “What time is it?” he asked.
“About seven,” I said. “Sorry, I figured you’d be up by now.” I held out a plastic cup to him. “Coke?”
“Jesus.” He rubbed his eyes. “I figured you were going to ghost me today.”
“I told you I’d be back.” I pushed the Coke a little closer to him and he took the cup out of reflex.
“I didn’t mean to sleep so late.” He blinked at me.
His confusion amused me. “Shouldn’t have stayed up so late,” I said. “You gonna invite me in or do I have to keep standing out here like an idiot?”
Will stepped back, swinging one arm wide. “I don’t see how coming inside will stop you from being an idiot, but come on in.”
“Real nice. I bring you breakfast and this is the thanks I get?”
“You brought breakfast?” Will’s face brightened with interest.
I shook the paper bag at him as I stepped into the RV. It was hot and still inside, and so dark. The only light came from the windows, which he had mostly covered by blinds. Will quickly opened a few of them and flicked some switches on a control panel to get a small light on above the banquette table.
We sat quietly together and ate our breakfast. Sipping my coffee, I couldn’t imagine trading it for the Coke Will was sucking down like it was his job. He saw me wrinkling my nose, and nodded at my iced latte. “I don’t know how you drink that shit.”
“Likewise.”
He grinned at me and tossed his wrapper in the paper bag. “All right, you ready to get to work?”
“Just show me what to do.”
The rest of the day was both a whirlwind, and glacier slow at times. There were times when I felt like I was being hypnotized by the repetition of things, like when Will set me to the task of sanding drawer fronts and cabinet doors. An
d other times I’d look at the clock and be shocked by how much we’d accomplished in the last hour.
Will quickly discovered that my strengths did not like in precision work, so he kept the power tools a safe distance from me. But I was more than capable of doing the jobs that required less finesse and more patience, thus the sanding. I enjoyed most of what we did, though my fingertips were sore from the sandpaper. It was very satisfying to do something that gave you a concrete result. Sure, the dogs I walked were calmer and smilier when we finished our walks, but that was mostly an investment of my time. This had results.
A girl could get used to that.
Will seemed to enjoy the company, too. Although half the time I think he was just talking to himself. I wondered if he talked to himself this much when no one else was here to listen.
The sun was still above the horizon, but only just when we decided to call it a day. We were both starving and both had to report to our regular jobs in the morning.
“Thanks, Hads,” Will said as he locked the front door to the house and jiggled the knob in a final check. “I wouldn’t have been able to get this much done without you.”
“It’s the least I can do for dragging you to more weddings.”
He smiled, and the white of his teeth showed how smudged with dirt his face was once again. Not to the swamp creature level I’d seen the first night, but he definitely looked like he’d been working all day.
“If I’m as dirty as you are, I’m going to scare my mother again.”
“At least you’re not actively bleeding today.” He swiped a thumb absently across my eyebrow, just below the cut.
“That’s a win, I suppose.” I put my hands on my hips and surveyed the yard. “Still a lot to do.”
“There always is.” He started walked toward his RV and I fell in step beside him.
“So I guess today would be the day to rob a bank.” I wiggled my fingers. “No prints left after all that sanding.”
“You can’t tell me ahead of time. Now I’m an accessory.”
