Intoxicated

by Alicia Renee Kline

  “Thanks for staying with me. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

  “You were exhausted. You don’t need to apologize. I ended up falling asleep, too.”

  “Yeah, Blake told me on Sunday. I bet she was surprised when she came back home.”

  He shrugged. “Blake’s seen lots of things. She doesn’t shock easily.”

  I smiled sadly. “At any rate, I appreciate what you did. It amazes me that someone like you is still single.”

  “Not everyone is as open-minded as you are. And I could turn the tables on you and say that I can’t believe anyone whose boyfriend ditches her is still with him.”

  “Point well taken.”

  Slightly embarrassed, l looked down at my hands. I turned them over and over in my lap. Matthew reached over and placed his hand over them, effectively stopping their movement.

  “I’m not one to be judging others,” he said softly.

  His hand remained on mine. My heart accelerated; I had to force myself to breathe. His skin burnt mine in the most pleasurable of ways. My cheeks flushed with color. I wondered if the electricity I felt passed into his body as well. I knew that I should pull my hand away, but it was frozen in place. Instead, I stared ahead until my vision blurred.

  “I can’t imagine what you went through,” I breathed. I doubted I could have spoken louder even if I had tried.

  “Due to my own stupidity. I don’t deserve any sympathy.”

  “It doesn’t make you a bad person. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “But I could have hurt someone. Or even killed someone. You don’t need me to explain that to you; you lived it.”

  “It’s ancient history, Matthew. And it’s not your fault. I won’t blame you for something someone else did twenty-four years ago. You don’t have to repent for every drunk driver who ever walked the earth.”

  “My own parents hate me, Lauren. Why don’t you?”

  “Because you have been nothing but kind to me, even before we realized that there might be a problem. Your kindness isn’t an act. You are a wonderful person, and anyone who doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

  It wasn’t the most intelligently worded explanation ever, but I had made my point.

  “Don’t you ever get mad about it? Or wonder why it happened to you? To your dad?”

  “I’d be lying if I said I never had those days where I felt like the world was out to get me. But everyone does, even those people who haven’t gone through the kind of stuff we have. To be honest with you, I had a pretty good childhood. My father is an excellent parent. I’m really lucky in that regard.”

  He nodded. “Yes, you are. I mean, I’ve never met the guy, but anyone that can raise a daughter like you deserves to be commended.”

  Here was my chance. He had provided me with the perfect lead-in to tell him about my plans for Thanksgiving. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, slowly releasing my breath.

  “I think you should meet him,” I began.

  His hand, still perched on top of mine, tensed immediately. Instinctively, I withdrew mine and switched positions, squeezing his in the process. I rubbed the palm of his hand with my thumb absentmindedly as I paused to let my words sink in.

  “You know,” I continued, “before we found all of this stuff out about each other, I wanted to get everyone together for Thanksgiving. Sort of a way to introduce everyone in my life to each other. I thought that maybe that would make things easier to swallow for some people. To at least be able to be in the same room with one another; you know, to put a face with a name. Now, I think everybody meeting up is more important than ever.”

  Matthew was silent for a long time. I continued rubbing his palm, enjoying the feeling of his skin beneath mine. The electricity was still there, only now more of a minor shock instead of the initial jolt. He didn’t recoil from my touch, instead choosing to stare ahead blankly. His eyes closed in an attempt to clear his mind. He took several deep breaths to calm himself before speaking.

  “I don’t know,” he said finally. He looked so conflicted, so filled with pain that it twisted my stomach.

  “Not everyone is like your parents,” I pressed on, very aware that I may be overstepping my bounds. “You can’t let that hold you back forever.”

  “As interesting as it sounds, discussing my incarceration is not an appropriate Thanksgiving dinner topic. And it doesn’t exactly win over new friends or acquaintances.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” I said defensively, “I just think that if you met some more people who weren’t judgmental about it, you would have an easier time coming to terms with it.”

  “And how so? Are you going to introduce me as your roommate’s brother slash ex-felon? Or are we not going to mention it until the end of the evening? You know, maybe lie to everyone and then pull out the shocking revelation. See, even drunks can have intelligent conversations and be nice people?”

  My eyes burned with tears. I was the one who broke contact, pulling my hand away like it was on fire. Matthew removed his hand from my leg, running it through his messy hair. I wiped away the unwanted moisture with the back of my hand. This was not going how I had intended. I wished that Blake was here. I was certain that she would know the right way to diffuse the situation.

  “I wanted to talk to my dad about you beforehand. You wouldn’t have to tell him anything. He would already know when he met you. I wanted to help prove to you that not everyone hates you for what you’ve done.”

  “Too late. I already hate myself. I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t. Not Blake. Not my best friend. Not you.”

  “Oh, Matthew,” I breathed, “I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugged. “For what?”

  “For what happened to you.”

  “For what I did to myself? Don’t be. It’s not up to you to make it better. It will never be better. I will have to live with what I have done forever.”

  “True. But it doesn’t have to define who you are, either. Even knowing what I know now, when I look at you, I don’t see that picture of you in the paper where you’re being led away in handcuffs. I just see you. Honestly, when you look at me, do you think about my mom dying when I was two? Do you try to imagine what I looked like as a toddler, or do you just see me?”

  “I see you,” he said softly.

  “Exactly. If you are not willing to put things behind you, how can you expect anyone else to? You have to move on. You paid for what you did. Yes, it was stupid on your part. But it could have been a whole lot worse. And you came out on the other side of it. You have so many good things going for you, but you lose sight of all that. Yes, some people are not going to like you for your past. But others will.”

  “Lightning doesn’t tend to strike twice in the same place. What makes you think your dad will like me?”

  “Let’s see. I’ve known him my whole life maybe? I think it would be therapeutic to talk to him. If you can connect with him, of all people, then maybe you can get past this. I’m not saying you have to forget it, but at least attempt to forgive yourself.”

  His hand ran through his hair again, a nervous reaction for sure. I could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he contemplated my proposal.

  “Fine,” he said finally, “I will meet your dad, and the boyfriend, and whoever else you want to parade in front of me. But you have to tell them ahead of time and not pressure them into coming if they don’t want to.”

  “Good. I might have already told Eric.”

  “You told the boyfriend?” he asked incredulously. Thankfully, he didn’t seem mad.

  I still looked up at him guiltily. “I’m sorry. It was the night that Blake told me. You and I had just texted a couple times. Eric called right after, and I answered the phone, thinking it was you. I rattled off this long tirade about how your arrests didn’t matter to me before I realized who it was on the other end.”

  He snorted. “And how did that go?”

  “I had a bit of explaining to do. After the ini
tial shock of it had worn off, though, I think he’s okay. But if he mentions you refinancing your house, just go along with it.”

  “Oh, great. The boyfriend’s really going to love me now.”

  I doubted that there was any real chance of that ever happening. However, I chose to keep this sentiment to myself.

  Chapter Eleven

  Friday afternoon seemed to drag even more so than normal. The eagerness to get the weekend started was shared by my staff. Even though we were still swamped with a record number of mortgage applications, time stood still. I kept having to reread entire paragraphs of emails, finding I had reached the end of them without comprehending any meaning. About four-thirty, I conceded defeat and called my team into my office for an informal meeting. Once the door had been shut, we accomplished nothing but chatting about our upcoming weekend plans. This effectively killed fifteen minutes of time, allowing them the opportunity to return to their desks to wrap up any loose ends.

  At five, I pushed back my chair and rose from my desk. I had brought a change of clothes in with me, and retreated to the ladies room to get dressed. A couple people looked twice at me, shocked that I was leaving with everyone else. In the few short weeks that I had been employed at this location, I had earned the reputation of burning the midnight oil. I was more than entitled to duck out at a traditional quitting time once in a while.

  Knowing that Eric would be dressed in his ever present uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, I had selected a pair of dark black jeans and a light gray, cable knit sweater. Good for traveling, since I still had a two hour drive ahead of me; maybe more depending on traffic. I would still look presentable when I showed up at his door.

  We had texted each other this morning to finalize details of my arrival. Due to the late hour of me getting there, we had agreed that we wouldn’t go out tonight. Instead, we’d have dinner at his place and relax. There would be time for sightseeing and going out Saturday and early Sunday. How ironic that I would be like a tourist in my own hometown.

  As I made the drive to downtown Indianapolis, I rehearsed in my mind how I wanted to approach Eric’s Thanksgiving dinner invitation. I hadn’t yet spoken to him about it; I figured that I would be better off doing it in person. Since he already knew of Matthew’s legal troubles, I wouldn’t have to share that part of the story with him. I may, however, have to do a little to smooth things over.

  My conversation with my father had gone quite well. Even though I had outwardly expressed my confidence at his being accepting of my new friend, inside I had harbored a small amount of doubt. My father didn’t speak about the accident much; whether that was from time being able to heal the majority of his wounds or because it still hurt too much, I wasn’t certain. Obviously, his connection to my mother had been of a completely different intensity than mine. I couldn’t imagine losing Eric the way he had lost her. I doubted I would ever be the same.

  With trepidation, I had described Matthew’s past. A couple times I had asked if he was still on the other end; he was so silent. Once I had finished my recap of events, he had taken a deep breath and confirmed his beliefs were very similar to my own. He had graciously accepted my invitation to dinner, expressing his excitement at seeing my new home. I had demurred at that point, not sure if dinner would really be held at Blake’s. She was fairly adamant about having the event at Matthew’s and I hadn’t felt confident enough to broach that subject with him. I would leave that to her. I promised to give him a call closer to the date and give him the address and driving directions. This worked out in more than one way: first, I could bide my time and wait for Blake to set up everything with her brother and second, I had absolutely no clue where Matthew lived anyway. As of yet, I had never ventured to his home. I only knew that it wasn’t that far away from Blake’s.

  I still had a hard time referring to Blake’s house as my place. It just seemed wrong, like I shouldn’t profess ownership of something that wasn’t really mine. All I did was rent a room there. Renting in someone else’s home was completely different than leasing an apartment or even an otherwise unoccupied house. Even though in theory it was the same thing, it was still a very clear distinction in my mind. The novelty hadn’t yet worn off; at times, it still felt like a really long slumber party.

  Surprisingly enough, the traffic wasn’t too bad until I had almost reached Indianapolis. I still managed to make relatively good time. It wasn’t yet eight at night when I pulled into the underground parking garage at Eric’s building. True to his word, Eric’s BMW occupied his assigned space; I swung the Honda into the spot next to it. He had made a big deal out of purchasing two parking spots when he bought the condo. The second had, on paper, been reserved for me. He had made it sound like it was a huge step in committing to me, almost on par with buying a diamond ring. However, when I realized the layout of the garage, I felt he had ulterior motives. The spaces were sectioned off in threes, divided by giant concrete walls. Eric’s spot was directly next to one of those walls, mine was to the left. By purchasing two spots, he had assured himself that another tenant would never park directly next to his car. Very convenient.

  I popped the trunk and grabbed the small duffel bag I had brought with me. Considering that I did have a drawer in Eric’s dresser, I was able to pack fairly light. A weekend trip didn’t necessitate too much luggage. Although I loved my hair and makeup products, I didn’t consider myself too high-maintenance. I could part with most of it to ensure myself an easy to carry load.

  I boarded the elevator and selected the ninth floor. Though Eric lived in a high rise, his salary didn’t support a mortgage on one of the higher floors. Still, he had done very well for himself. The views from his place were impressive. My stomach lurched with anticipation as the doors closed and I began my ascent. Within seconds, I had arrived at my destination. The doors slid open and I exited, turning right and walking down the hall.

  Eric’s unit was all the way at the end. This provided him with a corner unit and quite arguably one of the best buys in the complex. As my feet floated across the carpeted floor, I dug in my purse for the keychain that held only one item: the key to Eric’s place. As much as I would have preferred to simply knock at his door to announce myself, Eric insisted that I let myself in. This was in no uncertain way to remind me that I was welcome to move right in and call this my home, too.

  I squelched the urge to tap on his door and inserted the key in the lock. He was more than likely sitting on the couch anyway; he would hear the commotion and realize I was here. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

  The condo was bathed in shadows. Being open concept, I could see straight through to the downtown Indy skyline. The lights from the city supplied most of the illumination. The rest of the lighting came compliments of several candles.

  I shut the front door quietly behind me and set my bag down just inside the threshold. I placed my purse and keys on top and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dim conditions.

  “Hi, there,” Eric greeted.

  Like I suspected, he was seated on the couch. As expected, he was dressed in his typical weekend uniform, though in a casual manner for him. His polo shirt was clearly untucked, the buttons undone. His hair was much too short to look anything but perfect.

  “Hi.”

  “Your gourmet dinner awaits,” he smiled, motioning to the open pizza box on the table. “I found myself unable to resist, so I may have had a little already.”

  I walked over to him, sinking down beside him on the sofa. Pizza wasn’t the only thing that he had already had a little of. I moved two empty beer bottles out of the way in order to grab a slice of pepperoni. He took that as a cue to rise from his seat, collect the trash and offer me my own beverage. He returned from the kitchen with a soda for me and two beers for himself.

  Even though I never drank, it didn’t offend me when others did. I wasn’t about to get bent out of shape when people around me had a drink or two or ten. As long as they weren’t driving afterwards, it was all
good with me. Eric, of course, had been around long enough to understand this. Once Gracie had gotten over her own awkwardness with the situation, she became thankful that I tagged along as her built-in designated driver. Up until recently, I had spent the majority of my time with those who knew my stance on the issue. I hadn’t consciously had to think about it for ages before addressing it with Blake and Matthew.

  To be honest, I was almost happy that Eric had begun drinking before I arrived. Alcohol had a calming effect upon him; it helped soften his Type-A personality. Especially tonight, I didn’t want to fight about anything. I wanted my boyfriend to myself for a change. We desperately needed some quality time with one another.

  He watched me intently as I ate, asking me questions about my new job and my new home. I answered eagerly. He seemed to be genuinely interested in my answers. I debated whether or not to ask him about Thanksgiving. I wasn’t sure how to approach it. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up a touchy subject. I remembered his words when he learned about Matthew’s arrest. He had sounded angry enough to drive to Fort Wayne himself and bring me home. I needed to devise a foolproof plan before I suggested he spend several hours in Matthew’s company. So I bit my tongue instead.

  By the time we finished off the pizza, Eric had also finished off the other two beers. In addition to mellowing him out, his intoxication also made him amorous. Once he returned from clearing the table, he sat down right next to me. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, stroking my cheek with his thumb. A shiver ran down my spine. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned closer.

  “I’m so glad that you’re here in the right area code,” he whispered.

  “I’m glad I’m here, too,” I said, really meaning it, “but since I didn’t change my cell number, I’m always in the right area code.”