by Tami Anthony
“She may be right, Karen,” Eric says. “There might be candy, drugs, and all sorts of goodies in that thing.”
“See!” I say, agreeing with Eric. “Don’t be the party killer, Karen. Nobody likes that person.”
“Eric, stop encouraging her,” Karen says. “We have to get her home. She’s starting to piss people off. Hell, she’s starting to piss me off.”
“We should just try and see if there’s something in there,” I say.
“No,” Russ and Karen say in unison.
“I heard YES!” I say in a sing-songy voice. I pick up one of my shoes and throw it at the disco ball. It misses completely and lands in the DJ booth. Damn.
“Leslee, let’s go,” Karen says as she pulls on my arm. I swing her away.
“No, I’m not done yet!” I tell her as I pick up my other shoe and heave it towards the disco ball. Tiny mirror pieces scatter on the floor but the ball still remains intact as it floats in the air, shaking. Winning?
Karen mouth drops. “Oh, no Leslee! You can’t do that! It’s private property. Let’s just go, pay for the damage …”
I laugh. “There’s no damage.” I point to the ball. “Look! It’s still there! No harm done!” The bartender walks over to us with a scolding look on her face.
“I’m sorry,” Karen pleads. “Our friend just had a little too much to drink and we’re taking her home right now. Let’s go, Leslee,” she says, looking at me as if she’s irritated. This is all Karen’s fault. She has no reason to be irritated with me. I didn’t want to go out in the first place. I was perfectly content in staying home watching Golden Girls. At least that would’ve kept me out of trouble.
“You know, you’re gonna have to pay for that,” the bartender tells Karen.
“Yes, I know,” she says nodding her head. “How much is it?”
“Seven-hundred dollars to pay for the damages that your little friend did,” she says.
“Seven-hundred dollars?!” Karen exclaims. “Are you kidding me?”
“The damage your lushy friend caused is gonna cost us a fortune,” the bartender argues. “We’ll probably have to get a new one.”
“OK, that is the dumbest thing that I’ve ever heard,” Karen says. “You could go to Wal-Mart and buy one twice as big for like an eighth of the price.”
“I don’t care if you go to Wal-Mart and buy twenty fuckin’ disco balls!” the bartender snaps. “I still want seven-hundred dollars for this one, the one that your little friend just ruined.”
Karen and the bartender begin to argue and I can’t help but to grin from ear to ear. I’m floating on a cloud right now, a very drunken cloud. I feel like I can conquer the world, broken disco ball and all! I’m hungry like the wolf, damnit! I can do anything!
I spread out my arms and begin to dance backwards toward the middle of the dance floor. I begin to spin … over … and over … and over again. I can’t help myself. I’m a dancing machine!
“Leslee, we have to go!” Eric yells. “They’re gonna call the police if we don’t leave now!” I stop spinning and look over to Eric.
“Stop ruining my moment, Eric!” I snap in pure diva fashion. I dance my way under the disco ball and spin like Diana Ross in her disco days. “I feel free!” I yell. “I’m feeling free! I’m feeling happy! I’m feeling—” BAM! I feel an oversized object hit my forehead. My knees begin to shake as my body stumbles to the ground. I’m now feeling that I can’t move. I can’t move anything!
“Oh my God! Leslee!” I hear Karen yell as what seems like a stampede of people rushing over to me. They all stand in a worried circle around me.
“Is she okay?” one person says.
“What the hell just happened?” another girl asks.
“She just got hit in the head with a disco ball!” Mike says.
“Man down!” I hear Russ yell. “Man down! That looks like it fuckin’ hurts,” and those are the last words I hear.
Chapter Nine
White. All I can see is white. It’s as if I'm walking through an eternal cloud and gracefully floating on air. I don't see God (whom I imagine to be a hotter version of Brad Pitt, you know, like in that movie Troy when he wears his hair long and his six-pack abs are just glistening from the beads of sweat … yum!). I don't see angels flying around me like midgets with wings in the sky; therefore I'm alive.
"Is she dead?" I hear one voice say, a familiar voice, someone that I know I'm sure.
"No, you moron! She's not fuckin' dead! Don't you see the wavy lines on her heart monitor? That means she's alive." I can tell that voice from anywhere. It's Karen! I've never been happier to hear my best friend's voice.
"How would you know?” Eric says and I feel like jumping for joy, but for some reason I can't. My body feels so heavy and weak, and my mind is completely blank.
"Um, she’s breathing, dumbass," Karen replies. "Don’t you ever watch Grey’s Anatomy?” I hear silence and now I only see black. No clouds, no God, no midgets in the sky with wings. Where did my peaceful, little heaven go? "Leslee, please wake up," Karen whispers to me. I try to say something but my mouth won't open. I manage to slowly pry my eyes open to see four people standing over me: Karen, Russ, Eric, and Mike. I still try to open my mouth but I can't.
"I still think she's dead," Mike says.
"Her eyes are open," Eric replies. "She can't be dead."
"Some dead people open their eyes," Russ says as he bends down and stares into my pupils as if he's examining me like I'm some type of weird science experiment. "It's a reflex.”
"She’s not DEAD!" Karen yells.
"This knot on her head is amazing," Mike chimes in. "It's black, blue, purple, and red."
"It looks like a mini disco ball," Eric replies and the guys all laugh. "Ironically just like the disco ball that she was hit with in the first place." I really hope that it's not that bad. But, if in fact it is, it might actually be a sign. I should’ve stayed in the house in the first place, not have gone out drinking like some irresponsible college girl. I needed to act my age. What in the world was I thinking?
"You know what?" Mike asks with a devilish look on his face. "I think I'm gonna touch it." He pulls out a pair of latex gloves, put them on his hands, and begins to crack his knuckles. "This is gonna be so cool!" he says as Karen turns up her face.
"I'm so not watching this," she says and turns the other way. The guys all stare at me and I'm scared as hell. I see Mike's finger slowly move toward my forehead. The closer he gets to the wound on my head, the more I squint my eyes until I can barely see.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!" I scream at Mike and he pulls his hand away, his face turning ten shades of white. The room is completely quiet. All this time I'm sure I could've said something, but I’ve developed the worst case of cotton mouth ever.
“She’s awakening from the dead,” Russ says quietly. “It’s an unspoken miracle.”
"She's alive!" Karen yells and gives me a big hug, almost knocking over an I.V. stand. "How come you didn't say anything? I was worried that there really was something wrong with you!" I begin to squirm around in my hospital bed, despising the unfashionable hospital cloth that I'm wearing. I wonder who put this ugly thing on me. Someone in this hospital has seen me almost naked. I hope they didn’t pull anything funny.
I grab Karen's shirt and pull her extra close. "In all honesty,” I whisper, "how drunk was I tonight?"
She shakes her head side to side and simply replies, "You really don't want to know." I let her go and put my head down. Oh, it's all coming back to me now, and it's not pretty. I can literally see the disco ball flying toward my forehead. Why must I come back home and make a complete ass of myself? Why, oh, why?
"Leslie, it happens to everyone," Eric reassures me, but it's never happened to him, at least what I'm aware of. God forbid he spills Yuengling on any of his Brooks Brothers shirts. He'd have a major bitch fit ... guy style.
"The most important thing is that you're alive and you had fun," Karen says and I roll
my eyes. Such bullshit.
"Yeah, right," I reply glancing at Mike with his rubber gloves still on. I shoot him a dirty look and he instantly puts his hands behind his back.
"Well, I envy you, Les," Russ says. "I mean, what other way can you say 'Hey Philadelphia, I'm home!' then to get stupid drunk, dance like an asshole in front of strangers, and get hit in the head by a disco ball? You truly came back to the city with a bang!" Russ smiles, and everyone, including myself, look at Russ as if he's crazy.
"Anyway," Karen starts, "Eric's right. It happens to the best of us. You remember how I was in college. I'd get drunk and do some fucked up things. Who knew that running around campus butt naked in the middle of the night would be so offensive to some people? I never had any control over what I was doing. Alcohol can seriously alter your judgment.”
"The important thing to remember is that you're OK," Eric says as I take a deep breath. "Your parents weren't too mad about what happened last night. A little worried, but not too mad."
I can feel my face getting a little red hot and I begin to glare at Eric. "Why in the world would you tell my parents about this?!” I exclaim as I grab Eric by the top of his shirt, almost choking him.
“Don’t hurt me!” he yells. “It was Karen who called them!” I let go of my death grip and stare at Karen in anger.
"I'm sorry, Les! I didn't know what else to do! I was worried too!" she says trying to act like she's all innocent ... key word: act.
"This is what you do, Karen,” I start calmly. “YOU DON'T TELL THEM…ANYTHING!" I shriek. Karen's bottom lip starts to quiver like she's about to cry. I don't mean to hurt her feelings in any way, but it's my parents: my crazy, psychotic parents! There are reasons why I distance myself from them. One reason being that they drive me absolutely insane!
"I was afraid that something horrible had happened to you with that oddly shaped tumor on your head," Karen says and I turn away from her. "Anyway, they're on their way up here. I didn't know this would make you so upset. I'm sorry."
I sigh in frustration. "Give me my clothes. I'm getting out of this hospital Hell." I begin to sit up and attempt to get out of the bed. Thank the Lord they left my underwear on or it'd be a full moon.
"You can't go, Les," Mike says. "Not until they release you. You have a head injury."
I look Mike up and down then look directly into his eyes, fuming. "If you don't let me go, I will shove those hospital latex gloves up your ass, now move." Mike moves to the side and I push myself onto the floor. "I have to go," I keep saying as I look for my clothes. "I have to get out of here before—"
"LESLEE!" Fuck! I think to myself. It's the little Korean woman ready to ruin my life. I try to hide behind Karen and it doesn't work. My Mom walks into the room and spots me right away. Maybe if I jump out the window ... "Leslee, what did you do to yourself?” she asks. “What is this bump on your head?" I surrender. I move from behind Karen and let my mother see all my glory and embarrassment.
"I just had a little accident, that's all," I respond leaving out as many details as possible. I don't even know how much Karen told her. Hopefully not too much.
"Honey, if you want to dance on tables, that’s fine if you’re getting paid," my mother says and Mike begins to laugh.
I groan in frustration. “Mom,” I start, “I was not dancing on any tables. And can you please not say those type of things here? This is a hospital, not a strip club. Where are my clothes?!" I yell in frustration. Get me out of here!
"You cannot leave, Leslee!" Mom says and I ignore her. "The doctor says no, not yet."
I pick up my clothes from the chair and get a large whiff of marijuana. Ugh! I begin to cough as I make my way into the bathroom and close the door. I instantly look in the mirror and my eyes widen. I can not believe how horrible this thing looks on my head! It looks worse than a mini disco ball. It looks like if I put a sharp pin to it, it would completely explode. Double ugh!
I hear a knock at the door. "Leslee?" I hear a stern and manly voice say. It’s my Dad. This situation cannot get any worse. I continue to get dressed and he continues to knock. "Leslee, it's your father. Open the door!" What am I, 12 years old? Who does he think he is? I'm a grown woman trying to get dressed here! I swing open the bathroom door with my hand on my hip.
"Dad, a little privacy maybe?" I snidely say as I push past him and sit on the hospital bed. I look around the room for my shoes. “My shoes,” I say. “Where the hell are my shoes?” I think for a second and my memory floods back into my brain. “Oh,” I say. Now I remember. I threw my shoes at the disco ball at XO Lounge therefore my shoes are probably still there. Shit.
"Nice to see you, too, Leslee," Dad replies and I just roll my eyes.
"I really don't want to hear a lecture, Dad," I say as I plop onto the hospital bed. “I just want to leave.”
"What do I want to say, Leslee, since you know me so well?" my Dad asks me and now I officially feel like I'm twelve. "You smell like a goddamn Cheech and Chong movie!"
"Dad, you really don't have to embarrass me," I say as the doctor walks into the room. He's an average height, thirty something Indian male with perfect hair and a perfect complexion. This is the only time in my life that I've ever had an attractive doctor who wasn’t elderly and balding, and also the only time in my life where I've regretted going to a party. Never again I say. Never again.
As the doctor moves closer to me, he begins to turn up his nose. "Woo!" he says absorbing the smell of the Mary Jane that has attached itself to my clothing. "That must've been some party."
"Yeah, it really was," I reply. "At least what I remember of it which is funny because I don’t remember smoking weed." I look at Russ and he turns away. Guilty as charged.
The doctor starts flipping through the chart in his hand and I glance at his name tag: Dr. Vishal Patel. "Um, Dr. Patel,” I start, “When can I go home? I really would feel more comfortable in a home setting rather than in a hospital setting. I don't want to catch anyone else's diseases while I’m here." The doctor laughs at me.
"In a little bit," Dr. Patel responds. "We'll do a general checkup, go over your CAT scan results and then send you on your way if everything looks OK. Since it's a head injury, we want to be extra cautious.” He winks at me. I blush. I might actually be in love with my doctor … OK maybe a little hospital crush at most.
"OK, Dr. Patel," I manage to say without drooling. He smiles at me and it's the most gorgeous smile I've ever seen. His teeth are movie star white and he has this ridiculously sexy dimple under his right cheek. My opinion of hospitals is suddenly changing.
"Well, OK then," Vishal says (yes, we are on a first name basis now). "I'll be back in a little bit."
"OK," Karen and I say at the same time as he walks out the door. No wonder she's my best friend. We are always on the same page about things, and Vishal, it’s unanimous! He is a certified hottie.
"My God!" Karen says, her eyes following Vishal's sexy butt. "He's like the Indian Dr. McDreamy. He’s welcome to examine me anytime." She bites her lip and stares at the door. Russ taps her as if to say “Hello?! Your fiancé is standing right next to you!” She looks at Russ defensively. “Oh, I am allowed to look. I just can’t touch,” she replies.
I lay back down on the hospital bed. I begin to feel the energy drain again. "You guys can go. I'll be OK," I say to my friends. “I'll be fine."
"You sure?" Eric asks.
"Yeah," Karen chimes in. "We'll stay if you need us for moral support, company ... Indian McDreamy support ..." She goes into a complete daze. My friends are so weird.
"No, it's OK. I need to talk to my parents anyway," I respond. "Thank you, though."
“Well, I’m not leaving this hospital until you leave, so I’ll be checking out the vending machines downstairs and I’ll be back,” Karen says as she and Eric give me hugs. Mike and his latex gloves keep their distance away from me and he just waves. Russ just taps me on the shoulder and says goodbye. My friends all leave the room and n
ow I'm all alone with the dreaded parents. Sigh.
"So, daughter," my Mom starts and I can feel the yelling coming on any second. "When were you going to tell us that you came home?" I squint my eyes and give an honest answer.
"Never," I say. "I didn't want you to find out. Besides, I just assumed that this was a temporary thing. I plan on going back to Manhattan. I just need a little time to think, that's all."
"And what happened to your boyfriend?" Mom asks.
"Mom, I don't want to talk about it!" I whine. "We broke up, OK? It didn't work out.”
"I told you not to move to New York," my Dad chimes in. "That city will chew you up and spit you out.” He told me before I left Philadelphia that Manhattan was a tough place to live, but watching all those Sex and the City episodes convinced me that Manhattan looked like so much fun. I couldn't resist moving! Plus, I needed to start my own life without my parents deciding my every move. I surely learned my lesson the hard way. "So, what are you gonna do now?”
"I'm going to look for another job, Dad. It's not that hard," I answer and my mom throws up her hands in the air.
"You lost your man AND your job?!" Mom yells. "Leslee, this is unacceptable! How in the world could you lose both at one time?" Funny, I was asking myself the same thing. "Do you have a back up plan?" I squirm with uneasiness in the hospital bed.
"Not really," I answer. "You know, in my defense, nothing like this has ever happened to me. This is the only time that I kinda messed up so please, just let it go. I didn't expect to hear any lectures from you. I thought I’d hear more of a 'hey daughter, we missed you' but apparently that's not gonna happen, now is it?" My mother begins to look upset. I don't need my parents pointing out what I did wrong because I already know. I’m already humiliated. I sigh. "As far as the whole New York thing, I know," I admit. "I should've been more prepared and a little more cautious considering I haven't been with the boyfriend that long, but what's done is done. Now as far as last night ..." I pause. I barely even remember what happened last night. How can I repent anything when I don’t even remember it all? "I just know that I will never drink that much again, ever." I hate to admit when I wrong. I hate even more that my parents were right about everything. They told me not to move in with Victor and I did. They told me not to take that job at Thomas' law firm and I did. They told me not to move to Manhattan and look at where I ended up. Back in Philly where I started. God, they were so right. "So, what advice do you have for me now?" My Mom looks at Dad and just shrugs her shoulders.
