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“It’s more than perfect,” I exclaimed, and this time I allowed myself to be excited, too.
“Yeah! Isn’t it great?”
“The best.”
IT’S funny how fast things have changed in the last few years. Back then, I welcomed the night and sleeping in my new bed. Now, I fear what that sleep will bring. The irony isn’t lost on me. All the things I hate about my mom are starting to plague me as well. With a shake of my head, I follow the path of men in perfect three-piece suits to the bar. This will take the edge off.
Drown the fear.
Allow me peace.
After spying an empty seat at the bar, I sit down. My phone vibrates in my purse, so I pull it out and see that a new text has come through.
Sydney: Where are you?
Me: Having a drink at The Corner Bar
Sydney: I’ll be there in five.
A cute bartender in his mid-twenties with shaggy blond hair gives me a wicked smirk. “What can I get for you, sweetheart?” he asks with a southern twang that’s just as cute as his appearance.
“Shot of Patron,” I shout back over the loud music filling the air. A few seconds later, I’m snapped out of my wandering thoughts as a small glass hits the wood.
“Twenty bucks.”
I snap my gaze up to him. Did he just say twenty bucks? “For a shot of tequila?” His face splits into a wicked smile. “Yep.”
“Better be the best damn tequila I’ve ever had.”
With that he laughs. “Oh, it will be.” He smirks as I lift the glass to my mouth. I wink and swallow the fiery liquid. Cutie gives me a smile as he lifts his eyebrow.
“Another?”
“Keep them coming.” I smirk and a few seconds later, I’m lifting my second shot to my mouth. This one burns less than the first and makes my stomach feel warm.
“Hey there, killer. Take it easy with the shots. How many have you had?” I peer over my shoulder to see Sydney standing behind me. Her brow is furrowed and her mouth is in a tight line.
“Only two, but who’s counting?”
“You should be. Tomorrow you’re going back to work, or did you forget that?”
“I wish I could.” I wave my hand to get the attention of the bartender. “One more.”
“Eve, you need to take it easy.” She steps in closer, placing her hand on my arm to try to usher me up.
“I don’t want to,” I huff.
“What’s going on with you?”
Turning my head, I lift an eyebrow at her. “What do you mean? Can’t a girl go to a bar and grab a drink?”
“I have known you for two and a half years, lived with you pretty much just as long, and you’ve never been a big drinker. Sure, you have a cocktail here and there after work, but to go to the bar and throw back shots before bed—on a night when you have to work the next day, too? Well, that’s not like you at all. I mean, I get it, but still.”
I close my eyes and a strangled moan escapes. “I just want to sleep, Syd. I went to see my mom again, and it was bad. She was really bad. On top of that, the idea of another sleepless night, or worse . . .” I stop myself from telling her I’m trying to drown out the voices and silence the dreams. She wouldn’t understand.
She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. Her eyes are soft as if she hears the words I haven’t spoken. “Drinking won’t make the nightmares go away, babe. I think it’s time you reach out to someone.”
“Maybe,” I whisper. I search out the bartender and lift my hand to signal I want another.
MY BODY FEELS LOOSE. There’s no tension anywhere. With each shot I take, the cute bartender becomes the “hot bartender.” Apparently, his name is Austin and his jokes get funnier and funnier until I’m hunched over into a fit of laughter.
“Are you ready to come home?” Sydney asks from beside me.
“Nope.” I giggle, eliciting a laugh from Austin.
“I can’t just leave you here.” Her eyes narrow and I wink at her.
“I’ll be fine. Austin will take care of me.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
I laugh and Austin smirks.
Sydney moves closer to me and whispers in my ear, “Are you sure?”
“Totally. I’ll be fine. Go to bed.”
WHERE THE FUCK AM I?
The aching in my scull feels like a jackhammer is drilling away. My mouth is dry and my lips stick together as I pull them apart. It’s as though I’m choking on chalk. A grimy film coats my throat. Gross. I try to rub the sleep away, but instead come up with a handful of what’s collected on my chin.
Maybe the tequila wasn’t such a great idea.
However, it did work. With the booze seeping into my bloodstream, I passed out, even if it wasn’t in my own bed. It’s the first time in weeks I got a full night’s sleep.
Sitting up, I survey myself. I’m fully dressed and alone in the bed. Thank God. This could have been bad. Not that I wouldn’t have enjoyed a night in the sack with Austin, but I’d hate to be so drunk that I didn’t remember it.
Stepping out of the room, I take a peek around his apartment. There he is, curled up on the couch, snoring away. I don’t even bother to say good-bye. It’s awkward enough without me calling attention to the fact I was a drunk lush last night. Shit, I hope I didn’t say anything dumb, or worse, make an ass of myself. Sydney and I might need to find another bar.
Still sleeping, he grunts as if he’s about to wake. I take that as my cue to make a beeline out the door.
New York is quite peaceful at six a.m., albeit still dark. The only sound is the soft hum of passing taxis. It reminds me of a sound machine you listen to at night. As I walk back to my apartment, my hangover starts to pass. The sounds and architecture distract me. Looking at the intricate nature of each building I pass is fascinating. Like fingerprints, no building is the same. Each is unique and beautiful in its own way.
As I approach my street, I pick up my pace. Work isn’t for a few hours, and
I don’t need to be there until nine, but I still need to shower and get ready.
An hour later, I’m ready to go. Since I’ve missed so much work, I decide to go in early and get a jump on the day. I’ve fallen so far behind, I find myself running there to beat the morning rush. With labored breath, I swing the revolving door, and then dash to the elevator. It opens almost instantly.
Everything inside me feels as if it’s begun to seize. Muscles twitch, eyes water, shoulders slump forward, I brace my shaking hands on the cold metal surface of the wall. I have to face my fears. Going back to a place that reminds me so much of my loss feels as if somebody picked and reopened a scab on my heart. I try to will the emotions away as I plaster a smile on my face and enter the suite. But my smile is an imposter. It lies. It says I’m okay. But I’m not. Every smile is a plea. Every smile is a prayer that they don’t see my pain. That they don’t see how much I’m hurting since Richard’s death.
My heartbeat quickens. I’m okay. I’ll be okay . . .
It’s odd being here. Everything is wrong. The soul of the company is gone, and while the people around me have moved on, I can’t ignore his absence. Richard wasn’t only a boss, he was for all intents and purposes the life of this company. Now with him gone, this place feels like a shell of what it used to be. It’s as if I need a road map to figure it out. Nothing has changed, per se, but everything is different.
I make my way farther into the office space. A haze of sadness lingers over the few employees already here for the day. From the corner of my eye I notice them staring, scrutinizing, judging. They whisper and wonder where I’ve been. I want to crawl in a hole and hide. Instead, I square my shoulders and walk with purpose. I say good morning to them as I make my way to my desk, and hope they don’t see through my façade.
For the next few hours, I get caught up on all the emails I’ve missed these past two weeks while I was on leave. Thankfully, Sydney stepped in and took some of my workload while I was away. Without her, I would never have made it this far after the funeral.
