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‘No. It’s because of you. If you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.’
‘You’re sleeping with her. I know it.’
She doesn’t wait for a response. I steal a glance at Ariella. Her head is down as she concentrates on what she is writing. She tugs at the top of the turtleneck again. I smile. My hickies are hidden under there. I bet they’re still tender to touch. I am still with her. I remember giving her the first one, and shut it down quickly, before I dive too deeply into the memory of her smell and that breathy sigh she emits. We need to talk. I just have to wait till tonight.
‘Ariella, it’s almost three a.m.’
‘Isszzz it?’ she slurs. Oh boy.
‘You’re plastered.’
She laughs, loses her balance, then puts her index finger to her lips.
‘Shhhhhhhhhh…Oop!’ She stumbles again.
‘I wanted to talk to you tonight.’
‘Ooooookaaaaayy, Caleb. Let’ssss talk.’
‘Not when you’re like this.’
‘I am puuuurrrfectly fiiiiinee…’ She waves her hand around and falls on the sofa.
I grab some water. I laugh to myself. I’ve never seen my little pisshead drunk.
I stop. She isn’t mine.
‘I need to get back to yoga.’
She pushes out her bottom lip and reaches both her hands out to grab the glass from me.
‘I’m sure yoga will do you a world of good. Right now, let’s get you into bed.’
‘You take your hands off me.’
She smacks me away. The words hurt much more. She shakes an angry finger at me, then notices it like she is seeing it for the first time.
‘I don’t even know why I’m mad at you.’ She laughs.
‘You’re mad at me?’ I close the distance between us. I catch my disgusting behaviour. She is drunk and I am trying to pump her for info like an absolute coward. I force myself to step away and wait until she’s sober. ‘Don’t answer that. Want me to turn your shower on for you?’
I run to check the boiler and boost the hot water just in case. I return to find her playing with her fingers mid-air.
‘Those colours are so pretty. I love the popping sound the yellow one is making,’ she remarks, pointing to a blank wall. Real fear grips me.
‘Ariella, did you take anything?’
‘No!’ Her eyebrows form a cute v.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ There is no way she is seeing pretty colours and hearing them pop on just alcohol.
‘Dunno. Not much, but enough,’ she responds with childlike stubbornness. ‘Nicole was buying. She is reeeeaaally niiiice.’ Her expression threatens to change, stops for a second, then does. ‘Oh, wait. I might need to throw up. Don’t go anywhere.’
She gets up, only to fall back on the couch. I offer my hand for her to steady herself. Once she’s on her feet, I steer her into my bathroom and, just as she predicted, she is sick. I hold her steady, admiring her aim. When she is done I run to the kitchen, grab some more water and make her drink, despite her protestations.
‘Caleb?’
My name emerges from her in a way that hits and melts me, right in my chest. ‘I’m right here, Aari.’ I rub her back.
