Intoxicated

by Alicia Renee Kline

  Even if I had been able to find my courage, she rose from her stool prior to anything else being said. That was Blake, breezing in and out of conversations. So totally put together on the outside, so broken on the inside. She never stayed anywhere long enough to engage on a higher level. She could dispense advice to me, but couldn’t handle the magnifying glass being turned on her. This time she excused herself to her office, latching the door quietly but figuratively slamming it shut against further intrusion.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Unable to shake the nagging feeling my conversation with Blake had produced, I grabbed my cell and headed to the garage. I snapped a picture of the new car, captioned it simply “It’s here!” and sent the photo to Eric. Praying silently, I retreated to the living room. I slumped down on the sofa. This could go two ways. I prepared myself for rejection, but instead the phone rang mere seconds later.

  “Nice,” Eric said when I answered. I wondered if he used the same shorthand on all of his calls, or just with me. Like he was too important to be bothered with pleasantries, instead jumping right into the meat of the discussion. “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, I mean I’ve only driven it for about half an hour so far, but it is really nice.”

  He chuckled, and my stomach slowly began unknotting. “See, I told you were missing out on a lot. Sure the Honda gave you plenty of good years, but automotive technology has come a long way in the fifteen years since it was made. Now I won’t worry as much about you driving down to Indy to visit.”

  “As much?” I asked, encouraged by the fact that he worried at all.

  “Of course I worried about you. You were just too stubborn to notice. So what’s up? You’re not the gloating type, so there must be something going on.”

  I shifted on the couch, crossing my legs under me. “I just wanted to hear your voice,” I admitted, settling into the cushions.

  “Well, here it is. Bad day?”

  “No, not really. Just lonely, I guess. And thinking about the holidays. Now that I have reliable transportation, I am coming down for Christmas for sure.”

  “Awesome. At your dad’s? Or here?”

  “I haven’t talked to him about it yet. Everything just kind of fell into place tonight with the car coming in and all. I mean, I was pretty sure that I would have it before Christmas, but I didn’t want to start planning something I couldn’t follow through with.”

  “Right.”

  “So you’re free Christmas Day then? I wasn’t sure what was going on with your parents.”

  “Oh, they’ll be down in Florida like usual. So I’ll eagerly be waiting for your arrival. You are coming alone, right?”

  “If you’re asking about Blake and Matthew, they are staying here, yes.”

  The relief on the other end of the line was palpable. It saddened me that I had to compartmentalize my life this way. If I was with Eric, I couldn’t be with my Fort Wayne faction. To be honest, he barely tolerated Gracie, but maybe she was okay because she was local. His unspoken invitation probably would have included Blake as well. She hadn’t seemed to annoy him, either. It was really just Matthew he couldn’t stand. But since the siblings were more or less a package deal, one not welcome meant they both weren’t.

  “Well, figure out what you want to do and let me know. You could always come down Christmas Eve and spend the night here.”

  Even though he was miles away, I still shook my head. “I’ll be tired with working and all. I’ll just get a good night’s sleep and head out in the morning. Depending on what the weather looks like, it may be stressful driving.”

  “It seems like we very rarely have white Christmases here. You will probably be just fine. And you’re only working until noon anyway.”

  “I’m not sure,” I hedged. “I’m salaried now. Word is that management is expected to stay longer.”

  “On Christmas Eve?” he countered, picking up on my bold-faced lie. At the branch level at least, all employees had zoomed out the door the second the clock struck twelve. In fact, the four working hours were largely unproductive. It was a running joke that corporate was just out to make us miserable by not extending the holiday.

  “It’s just what I’ve heard. Maybe they are trying to scare us into submission. Or into staying late until year end so we meet our goals. We are fairly close to hitting production based on the applications we have in house right now. There is a big push to get as many loans closed as possible to have them on the books this year.”

  Once I pulled out the shop speak, he relented. Being in sales, he couldn’t argue with my logic, even though it was totally off the cuff. Talking about production goals made him forget that the majority of the business world would be shut down for the holiday, so any progress made after hours would be minimal at best. Maybe he just didn’t want to consider the alternative.

  “Well, if you do get off at a reasonable hour, my offer still stands.”

  “Okay,” I said, unable to close the door on his optimism completely. I could always fabricate a story about a closing gone wrong or some similar chaos ensuing. Or, if the festivities at Blake’s didn’t last as long as I planned, I might be able to hop in the car afterward and head down. Maybe that’s what I would do. It made my head spin to juggle wanting to be in two different places at once.

  “See what you can do, okay? Unless you need the extra time to wrap your gifts. I know how you procrastinate.”

  I laughed. He was right there. And the pseudo-pleading thing tugged at my heart. I wished that I could shrink myself and hop through the phone line into his condo. When he was like this, it was easy to forgive him for his trespasses. He turned on the charm and I dissolved. Everything that I questioned became foggy, unimportant.

  “I will see what I can do,” I promised. “I miss you so much.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  His tone was hushed, as if he didn’t want to admit it to himself. I couldn’t doubt his sincerity when he said it like that. This distance thing wasn’t just hard on me. Considering this was the first time he was the one left behind, it probably hit him harder than it did me. But being a guy, he refused to show it.

  I swallowed down a yawn, suddenly aware of how late the hour was getting. I pulled my cell from my ear to check the time. It was nearly eleven already. If I would have been up in my bedroom, this would have reminded me of our college days. Often, we would end our nights on the phone with one another. I would curl up in my bed at dad’s, dressed in a tank and pajama pants, the phone cradled against my shoulder. I would close my eyes and imagine Eric in his dorm room miles away, whispering to his roommate that he needed privacy. We would talk about anything and everything: parents, friends, papers due, exams upcoming, how much we both looked forward to when we could see each other again. His voice would be my lullaby, helping me to drift off to a peaceful sleep. I would fight exhaustion as long as possible just to hear it.

  As if he could read my mind, he stated the time. “We’d better get to sleep.”

  “I know,” I said sadly. “I love you.”

  “I’ll see you soon, Lauren. Good night.”

  With that, he was gone. I stared at my silent phone for a moment, disappointed that he couldn’t bring himself to say the same to me. I had gotten something of an admission of affection from him, which was more than usual but less than what I truly wanted. It was always one step forward, two steps back with him. If I waited long enough, eventually he might catch up with me.

  “Rome wasn’t built in a day,” I muttered to myself as I flipped off the light in the living room and mounted the stairs.

  A ribbon of light still shone under the door to Blake’s office. Inside, I could hear the humming of her sewing machine. No doubt she was working on making someone’s dreams come true. Maybe even the client that had called her tonight. I had grown used to the sounds of her working late into the night; instead of bothering me it was now more like one of those white noise machines that people kept by their beds. I paused at the
threshold, knocking gently to announce my presence. I turned the knob slowly, intending to pop my head in to tell her goodnight.

  Her sewing machine was set up facing away from the door, so her back was turned to me as I entered. Either she hadn’t heard the knock or she was intent on finishing her project for she just kept on working. I cleared my throat and she jumped half a mile out of her chair.

  “Sorry,” I apologized quickly, feeling ten ways of bad.

  “It’s okay,” she said huskily, sniffling and wiping at her eyes quickly.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. If I had just seen things correctly, she was crying. To make sure, I circled around the table so she faced me. She had almost wiped the evidence away before I arrived.

  “I’m fine. Just multitasking.”

  She pointed to the fabric that hung down between us, half in, half out of the machine. If I had to guess, I would say it was a curtain of some sort. The gauzy blue creation puddled to the floor.

  “Working and having a nervous breakdown at the same time?” I inquired. She nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Her shoulders slumped and for a moment she sat there, debating. I stood and waited patiently. For whatever reason, I wasn’t as tired as I had been when I came up to the loft. Perhaps it had everything to do with a possible breakthrough in Blake’s formerly impenetrable veneer. If she wanted to talk, I wasn’t going anywhere. I would hate myself for it in the morning, but it was a sacrifice I was ready to make. Nothing a few cups of coffee couldn’t make tolerable.

  Wordlessly she rose from the sewing machine and went out to the sitting area. I followed her out, stopping by the bathroom for a handful of tissues. I handed her one as I sat down beside her on the loveseat. I propped my back against the arm on my side as she blew her nose. I remained silent as she pressed the diamond stud back down flat against her nostril. Apparently nose rings migrated in times of intense emotion.

  “I’m sorry,” she said finally, tossing the tissue to the small table in front of us, “sometimes I forget you have a degree in accounting and not in psychology. If you don’t want to listen to any more of my family’s shit, just tell me.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m a good listener. I think. Did you and Matthew have a fight? I’ve never dealt with sibling rivalry myself, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  “No, nothing like that.” She shook her head, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. I expected her to rock back and forth. Instead, she sat still as a statue. I waited. She took a deep breath and began quietly.

  “I haven’t celebrated Christmas for a long time. Not for religious reasons or anything like that. By choice. Sure, I get paid to decorate other people’s houses for it, but for me it hasn’t existed for years. Since you are here though, I decided that I would try because it means a lot to you. I thought I would be okay with it, like I could pretend you were another client or something, but tonight it just really hit me hard.”

  “Blake, you don’t have to do anything on account of me. If you have a problem with it, just tell me and we’ll drop it. It’s no big deal.”

  “But it is a big deal. I have this irrational mental block against a holiday. It’s stupid. If you remember the scrapbook, you probably noticed that the articles about the sentencing were written about this time of year.”

  I nodded, wanting her to continue. Matthew had already shared this much. Of course, she wasn’t aware of that.

  “Christmas was huge in my parents’ house. I’m sure you can imagine that with my dad being a lawyer and my mom being a socialite, we got some pretty extravagant presents. Any excuse they could find to buy gifts they embraced wholeheartedly. I got a brand new car for my sixteenth birthday. I got a Mercedes when I graduated high school. Christmas gifts were no different. We got shopping sprees, vacations, you name it. I was raised that way. I didn’t know any different, didn’t understand that things like that weren’t normal.

  “The first time Matthew got arrested, it was pretty much a slap on the wrist. His license got suspended, my dad coughed up money for a fine, stuff like that. All with the understanding that it would never happen again. No harm, no foul more or less.

  “So fast forward a few months and Matthew and Chris get invited to this huge party. Since I’m Chris’s girlfriend I come along, even though I’m underage. Matthew’s girl of the month comes too. They have hit a rough patch, and they are already starting to fight on the way there. Matthew’s license is still suspended, so Chris is driving us all. We get to the party and one of the hosts takes Chris’s keys. It’s an all-nighter, and people are getting trashed.

  “Even though it’s incredibly stupid to do so, we all start drinking. Obviously, it’s illegal for me to have alcohol, and Matthew’s on probation. But since we’re staying the night, no one will be wiser in the morning, right? Our parents are pretty lax; they could care less where we are as long as we come home in one piece and don’t get into trouble. Chris is like super-boyfriend, they trust him immensely and don’t mind that I’m out all night with him.”

  Blake paused to take a breath. It was amazing how talkative she had become. Depression seemed to be a truth serum of sorts for her. I nodded, urging her to continue.

  “A couple hours later, we are all severely drunk. Chris and I are having a good time. Matthew and his date have disappeared. Turns out they’ve gotten into a pretty ugly fight, and she’s walked out on him. Matthew gets pissed off and he goes after her. Word gets back to us what’s happened, and at first, we don’t think anything of it. We figure he’s right outside, no big deal. Then we realize that Matthew still has keys to Chris’s car – it used to be mine, but my dad sold it when I got the Mercedes. Sure enough, he’s taken off in the car.

  “Obviously, you know the rest. Matthew gets pulled over and taken to jail, and this time it’s not pretty. My dad is beyond mad, and he disowns him. I can’t turn my back on my brother, so I get the same treatment. Luckily, by that time, Matthew has bought the house he lives in now, and I move in there.”

  “And this is why you hate Christmas?” I asked, confused. Sure, I’m grateful for the dialogue, but it doesn’t make enough sense to denounce an entire holiday.

  “That’s the backstory. So, about this time of year, I move out of my parents’ mini mansion into Matthew’s house. Let’s just say it’s not in the same condition now as it was then. He bought it dirt cheap as a foreclosure with the intention of fixing it up room by room. It was a roof over my head, and not much else. I guess there was running water and heat and all the important stuff, but it was a major reality check. And the Mercedes was gone, too, parked at my parents’. I used the money in my savings to buy a used Cavalier.

  “Gone were the days of a family Christmas. It was like Matthew and I never existed, and I had never been more alone in my life.”

  She stretched her long limbs, effectively ending the tale. Still, I waited. When the silence became too much to bear, I decided to ask the million dollar question.

  “So what about Chris?”

  For a moment, I was afraid that she wouldn’t answer. Her eyes glazed over with tears, and I knew I had struck a nerve. All that exposition hadn’t gotten to the heart of the matter, and she was painfully aware that I knew it.

  She sighed deeply before continuing. “I was so mad, Lauren. So angry at myself, my parents, anyone but Matthew. And I know now that I was wrong. As much as I love my brother, he made some really stupid decisions, and he should have paid for them. In a way, he got what he deserved. But then, I assigned that blame to Chris.”

  “Why?” I inquired, totally confused.

  She shook her head sadly. “I was pissed off at him because he didn’t try to stop Matthew. Once I thought about it, it made sense to me why he didn’t. If we all would have been stumbling around in the night, we might have all gotten caught. He was trying to protect me, but I didn’t see it that way. I had expected him to be the knight in shining armor swooping in to save the day, and h
e didn’t.

  “For a while, he tried to look after me. I could tell he felt bad. But I pushed him away. I couldn’t look at him anymore without hating him for what had happened that night. It was unfair and stupid, and I ended up losing everyone that ever loved me in the span of about six weeks.”

  “But Matthew wasn’t gone. He just wasn’t with you.”

  “I know. But every night I would go to bed in his old crappy house by myself and think of him all alone in jail. I visited him every chance I could, but I don’t have to explain to you why that’s not the same. With Chris out of the picture, I turned the blame inwardly on myself. And truth be told, Chris was never truly gone. I just never saw him anymore. He would come over and mow the grass when I wasn’t there. He made sure that if there was something that went wrong in the house, like a leaky faucet, that either he fixed it or that people magically appeared to fix it for me. I’m sure that he meant for it to be a protective gesture, or he felt he owed it to me, but to me it just felt like him twisting the knife a little deeper.”

  Lost in her memory, a tear slid down her cheek. I passed her another tissue. “Thanks. The last thing I ever said to him was that I hated him and I wished he would rot in hell.”

  “Oh, Blake,” I whispered as she dissolved into sobs. I reached for her, and she let me embrace her. Being a sympathetic crier myself, tears threatened to spill over my cheeks as well.

  “No wonder he hates me,” she choked into my shoulder. “I am a horrible person.”

  “No,” I soothed, “you’re not a horrible person.”