by Leah Scheier
Her hand falls to her side and her mouth drops open. “I feel like a slimy bug?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never touched you.” There’s a thin note of frustration sharpening his tone. “But when someone touches me, especially when I don’t expect it, it’s like they’re violating my personal space. It would be like if a stranger came up and licked your cheek.”
She laughs shortly. “Okay, I’ll be sure to warn you before I start licking. But if you don’t like physical contact, why do you even want to get close to me? If you’re sure it will be awful for you?”
He sighs and for the first time lifts his eyes to look at her. “You can feel both worried and excited at the same time, right?” he replies. “Well, I can feel more than one thing too. My father said that I should think of girls like hot chocolate. The first try might burn my tongue. But eventually I’ll get used to the temperature. And then I can just concentrate on the sweetness.”
“Oh, I get it. That’s just like—”
“Rain!”
The whisper behind me makes me jump, and I turn around to find Liam staring at me. “What are you doing?” he asks in a low voice.
I move away from the window and take a long sip of punch to buy a little time. I have no idea how to explain myself to him. What was I doing? Until Liam interrupted me, it hadn’t occurred to me to question the decency of eavesdropping on my brother. I had a duty to be there, just in case Ethan needed me. It had seemed obvious that I was only there for his protection. But now, seeing myself through Liam’s shocked eyes, I suddenly realize that my presence behind the curtain was not exactly normal.
“I was looking for food,” I say evasively, and take another sip of punch. It burns on the way down, but I like the warm, deep glow it leaves behind. It’s like drinking a relaxing day on the beach. “Someone ate all the hummus.”
“Well, there’s no food out there,” he says, pointing at the window. The motion throws him off a bit, and he sways before regaining his balance.
I drop my head. “I guess I got a little carried away,” I admit after a pause. “I heard them talking, and I wanted to make sure he was okay—”
“All right, I get it.” His tone is far more gentle than I deserve. “You’re worried for him. But still—”
“I know, I know.” I don’t want to talk about this anymore. There’s no way to justify it. “I need some more of this punch,” I tell him. Mostly to change the subject. And also because I truly do want more. I’ve had beer before, and wine—but I’ve never tasted anything that feels this good. “I need to ask Marcus for the recipe.”
“I’ve had two cups already,” Liam admits. “You want this one? It’s mostly full.”
I take the glass from him and swirl the red juice around. It’s easier to concentrate on the punch than talk about what I’ve just done. Liam seems to feel the same way, and he shuffles off to fetch more drinks for us. We enjoy them in silence; minutes pass, maybe hours. By the end of the second cup, I’m not so embarrassed anymore. “We should get out of here.”
“Okay.” He reaches out to take my hand—and misses. His fingers barely graze my wrist. I giggle at the baffled expression on his face. “You’re drunk,” I scoff.
“I’m not drunk,” he retorts. “You moved.”
“I don’t think so. You’re wasted.”
I’m fine though. I’m just feeling fuzzy and peaceful and a little slow. I want to explain everything to him, but I don’t have as many words as I did before. But I’m nowhere close to drunk.
The third cup feels even better going down than the second one did. It slows down time. Liam is trying to walk over to me but he’s moving like a turtle, shuffling one foot in front of the other like he’s making his way across a rickety bridge. He doesn’t look upset at me, just red and confused. Maybe he’s forgotten about the spying stuff.
I feel better about it already. I feel better about everything.
Who was I looking for? I really need to find Marcus and ask him—something. And Kathy—I should tell her that someone drank all the whiskey and didn’t share. There are three empty bottles on the counter next to the empty platters of food. Who stole all the whiskey?
Liam is leaning forward and gripping the edge of the table. He moans and squints up at the clock. How long have we been standing in this kitchen? An hour? Two? Did somebody turn on an oven? It’s so hot in here. “I think we’re missing the party.” But I don’t really care. It’s hard to care about anything when I feel this good.
“I don’t think you should be drinking more—” Liam says suddenly. The last words come out slurred. “Give it back.”
“No.” I sink down onto the floor. The floor is more stable than the counter. The counter feels mushy. “It’s all gone now.”
“Where did it go?”
I giggle and the empty cup drops out of my hand. “Oopsie.” It’s the funniest word in the English language. I want to say it again. “Oopsie.”
“Oopsie,” he echoes, and collapses on the floor next to me. “I want to go to sleep.”
“It’s hot in here,” I say. Or maybe Liam does. It’s like he’s reading my thoughts now. It’s good that he can do that, I think happily. Maybe I don’t have to speak so much with my mouth.
“Let’s go outside,” we say together and then we start to laugh. It begins as a little chuckle, but soon we’re doubled over, and he’s holding on to me. I love the way he laughs. His cheeks get all red and shiny, and his eyes are bright with tears. I never want him to stop laughing. I love how funny he is and how funny I am when I’m with him. I love him.
“I love you too.”
Did he just tell me he loved me? Of course he did! Of course he loves me. Did I tell him I loved him too? I better make sure I did.
“I love you, Liam.”
“You just told me that.”
“Oh.”
It’s the most beautiful moment in my life. We’ve said everything and we can be happy forever. I’m pretty sure he needs to kiss me now. Except maybe outside where it’s cooler. It’s so hot it’s making my stomach hurt.
It takes a really long time to get out of the house. There are lots of people in the living room and they keep bumping into me when I walk near them. Liam helps me push them off. Then he pulls me up when somebody trips me and I fall down. There’s a lot of really drunk teenagers at this party, and they need to be more careful. It’s probably time to leave anyway.
The front yard is peaceful and cold. The grass feels like a cool blanket on my face. I could stay here for a long time. “Why are you lying down?” Liam asks me.
“Lie down with me.”
“Where’s my truck?”
He’s moving away from me slowly, and I don’t want him to go. He hasn’t kissed me yet, and I don’t want to be alone in the dark outside. I try to get up to follow him but my knees are heavy, and my head needs to lean against something. Then his shoulder finds me, my arms wrap around his neck, and together we walk back to his truck. He reaches through the open window and pops open the lock. It’s funny that he has to try three times before he gets the door open. “Stupid handle,” he mumbles. I don’t care about the handle; I don’t care about anything. I just want to lie down on the vinyl seats and close my eyes for a little while. But when I’m inside I suddenly remember my brother is still back at the house and I was supposed to be watching out for him.
Except maybe he doesn’t need me to do that anymore.
It’s the saddest moment in the happiest moment of my life. Ethan doesn’t need me anymore. He’s found Hope and wandered away, the way he used to wander away when he was little and I’d have to find him before he got lost. Only this time he doesn’t want me to find him. And just now Liam thought I was a weirdo for caring too much about my twin.
“I’m not a weirdo,” I sob suddenly. I don’t mean to start crying, but I can’t help it. I might
never find my brother again, and my boyfriend thinks I’m crazy. Also I can’t remember if Liam ever asked me out so maybe he isn’t my boyfriend after all and I’m lying pressed up against a total stranger in a pickup truck. Did I just tell a total stranger that I love him?
My face is resting on Liam’s chest and he’s lying back across the seat, his head pushed up against the steering wheel. He shifts over and looks down at me. “I know. Me too.”
I don’t know what he means, but it’s very comforting. He knows exactly what to say to make me feel better. I need to stop crying and kiss him before I fall asleep.
His face is so near mine now. I just have to reach his mouth. I try to get closer, but it’s very hard to move my body over his. But then he slides down a little and pulls at me, and our lips meet, and everything is easy suddenly. He’s moving under me, my chest is pressed against his ribs, I feel him breathe and groan. I inhale his smell, the spice-wash sweetness of him, and taste the sweat and whiskey on his lips, and I want more. I don’t know how to tell him what I want because I can’t remember how to speak, and his lips grab whatever words I have. As long as he keeps kissing me I’ll never lose him. He’s slipping away, everyone is slipping away from me, but maybe this is my last chance. It feels like my only chance to be okay. He loves me, he said he did. It’s the only thing I know for sure. I want to tell him that I love him too; I never want him to forget, but if I say the thought out loud I’m scared he’ll run away. So I have to show him.
I should show him with my body, and then he’ll understand.
Chapter 15
My stomach is kicking me. It’s the first thing I feel before my eyes open, before I have any idea where I am—there’s a twisting wrench of nausea and an awful searing pain beneath my ribs. For a moment I can’t breathe, and my eyes snap open. I gasp loudly, my lungs contract. And then it comes, a belch of air, a retching sound, and then a gush, a stinking volume of punch and puke. It pours from me like spit up from a baby, and the only thing I feel is relief that my stomach has stopped tearing itself to pieces.
When it’s over, I sit up weakly and look around me. I’m completely disoriented; the first thing I see is a steering wheel covered in reddish vomit and the glint of moonlight on the windshield. I have no idea how I’ve gotten there. There was a party, I remember. I was supposed to be at a party tonight. Liam was waiting for me. And Ethan—where was Ethan? I shift forward and my arm presses into something soft—someone soft that moves and groans beneath me. My breath catches as I glance down. Oh, God, I’ve been lying on top of Liam this whole time. I’d just elbowed him in the gut. He doesn’t wake, just mutters something under his breath and then turns over with a sigh.
Why am I here? And what is that awful smell? I scramble off the seat, push open the car door, and look around. The house at the end of the drive has gone quiet; the night around us is completely still. The lawn, which had been crowded with cars, now only has two remaining.
A gust of wind whips my damp hair back and makes me shiver; I realize suddenly that the front of my dress is soaked through with vomit. And Liam—he’s still stretched out sound asleep across the seat, his head resting against a soggy steering wheel. It’s hard to see clearly by the light of the moon, but I can tell his clothes are wet and rumpled. I’m disgusted at myself. There’s no way I can clean this up. When he wakes up he’ll realize I threw up all over him. I don’t remember much about our night; I can’t remember if it was fun or crazy or romantic. But none of that matters now. I puked all over him and his car. I don’t know how I’m going to face him.
And Ethan. What am I going to tell Ethan? Where did he go? Hope’s car is parked near the porch. Maybe they’re still here together.
I stumble across the lawn and toward the house. My head is swimming, my stomach is empty and churning, my throat is raw, my tongue like gritty sandpaper. I don’t remember eating anything at the party. I have no idea what could have made me so sick. I hadn’t drunk that much, had I? Could party punch make you this nauseated? There’s a weird soreness between my legs too, a twinge that makes me wince as I climb the stairs. It feels like a cross between a period and the beginnings of a UTI. Am I getting my period early? There’s no way I can blame the punch for that. I need to figure out what’s going on.
There’s a gust of wind from the porch as I open the door and the cold bites at my naked legs. I look down and groan. My dress, my sexy green dress, is completely ruined. I’m never going to get that stain out. I smooth it down; it had bunched up around my hips while I was sleeping. I have to clean myself up before anyone sees me.
I find an empty bathroom on the main level and close the door behind me. As the light comes on, I moan and put my hand up to cover my eyes. My entire body hurts, but that million-watt light bulb over the sink feels like it’s burning a hole into my brain. I squint at my ruined outfit and dab some water over the cloth. It’s hopeless. The best I can do is pat down my matted hair and wash the streaks of mascara off my face.
That burning feeling is worse now too; it feels like I haven’t peed in days. I hike up my skirt to take a look. My underwear is crumpled and stained, and my legs are all streaked with blood. I can’t believe this; my period’s not due for another two weeks! And I’m never early. There’s no way this night can get any worse.
Luckily there are a few pads beneath the sink, so I grab one while I clean myself up with some wet toilet paper and hand soap. Maybe the stress of vomiting made my period come prematurely. Is that even possible? But why am I so sore? That doesn’t make sense. My period never makes me feel like this.
Why can’t I remember how I got to the truck? How long was I asleep? I stick the pad into place and straighten my clothes. There’s something important I need to remember. A memory that feels like vinyl and smells like spice and sour whiskey. “Are you sure, Rain? Are you sure?” His glasses gone, his brown eyes large, confused. What had we been talking about? I need to wake Liam up and ask him.
“Rainey? Are you in there?” It’s Hope’s voice on the other side of the door.
“One minute!” I splash some cold water on my face, comb my wet fingers through my hair.
She’s blinking and rubbing her eyes when I step into the hall. “We fell asleep on the living room sofa,” she says with a weak smile. “I heard you come in. Were you waiting for us?”
I shake my head. “I fell asleep too. Where is everybody?”
“Marcus passed out next to the punch bowl. Kathy threw up in the sink and then went up to her room—”
“Where’s Ethan?”
“He’s asleep on the sofa,” she says softly. Her face is glowing. “He did really well tonight, Rain. You should be proud of him.”
“That’s great,” I say. “But I really need to get him home.” I don’t mean to be short with her; normally I’d want to know every detail about Ethan’s success, but right now every word hurts me. My head feels like a band of iron is wrapped around my temples. I’m praying I don’t vomit again.
“I can take you,” she says. “I only had one beer, and that was hours ago.”
“Thanks.”
“What happened to Liam? Did he go home already?”
“He’s still asleep in his truck.”
She hesitates and glances at my soiled dress. “Is everything okay with you two?”
“No, not really,” I tell her. “I just threw up all over him. He’s still asleep. I just need someone to take me home.” My voice breaks and I clutch my forehead. “Look, Hope, I know I’ll have to deal with this in the morning, but I just can’t right now—”
“Okay, okay,” she says, reaching out and patting my arm. “Relax. I’ll go get Ethan.”
He appears behind her as she says his name. “Hello, Rain. What happened to your dress?”
I have no energy to answer him or anyone else. “Let’s just go.”
The drive home is silent and tense. Hope keeps
glancing at me and opening her mouth, then closing it again. Ethan busily messages someone on his phone. After a few minutes, the tick-tick-tick of his typing starts getting on my nerves. “It’s four in the morning,” I finally snap. “Who are you writing to?”
“It’s six a.m. in DC,” he responds. “Dad is up. He wanted to know how the party went.”
“Oh. What are you telling him?”
“It was noisy, and I didn’t like that. But other parts were good.”
Hope glances over her shoulder and throws him a beaming smile that he doesn’t see. I get the feeling I’m missing something.
“Did Dad ask about me?” I inquire, in spite of myself.
“No.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
Cooking with Rain
SERENITY THROUGH YOUR GUT
Rain’s Hangover Cure: Vegan Frito Chip Chili
Who feels like trekking to the grocery store with a splitting headache? Throw the leftovers from the party into a pot and simmer for the perfect hangover remedy. (See next week’s blog for recipe. I’m too sick to write at the moment.)
Chapter 16
I sleep through my phone the next afternoon—through a bunch of texts from Hope, Kathy, and Marcus and three calls from Liam. When I finally wake up, the sun has started to set, and the rays of light between my curtains have softened to an evening glow. I bury my head deeper into my pillow and squint at the blinking messages on my cell.
Hope: Are you feeling better? Want me to come over?
Marcus: I made everybody sick. I’m really sorry. I read the recipe wrong. It was supposed to be a third of a bottle of whiskey. Not three bottles.
Kathy: I have to talk to someone.
And finally, a desperate text from Liam after the missed calls: Please call me. We need to talk about last night.
The thing is, I don’t want to talk about last night. I never want to talk about it. My memory of the party is blurred and patchy, but I remember enough to be absolutely mortified. I remember spying on my brother, I remember Liam’s shocked face, I remember falling on top of him in the truck, I remember kissing him, and then—what happened then?
