CHAPTER TEN
The keyhole laughs at me from its stationary position on the door lock. The opening is there, but I cannot get my key to fit inside. I panic. Did Finn change the locks on me? Did I break one of the apartment rules and not realize it? Did I walk past my possessions thrown out on the curb or have they already been picked over by the neighborhood vultures? How much would be left on a Saturday morning?
“Your key is upside down, Aspen.” It sounds like Finn’s voice, but I’m afraid to move my head to guarantee it’s him.
My entire existence depends on keeping my body as still as possible. Any sudden movement and I might lose everything in my stomach right here on the floor. I worry puking in the hallway would violate Rule 6: No hallway adornments. Either way I can’t imagine it would be looked upon favorably.
“Huh?” I question and hope the simple one-word response can convey what I need it to.
Finn shuffles closer, as if he’s approaching a wounded animal and I might attack at any moment. He takes the key from my hand and opens the door for me. Sweet relief. I walk to my bedroom and don’t bother to change clothes. I’m not even sure what I’m wearing. It came from Marissa’s closet, or her floor, or the hamper. I can’t remember.
We drank and cried our way through Thursday night together. Friday I called into work and when Amanda rang to check on me, she heard all the sordid details. At the end of the day, she showed up on Marissa’s door and insisted we go out to dinner and then dance the night away in an attempt to remind Marissa there are many men in the sea. Between the cabs, liquor, and the mysterious bruise on my hip, I can’t be bothered to worry about what I’m wearing. I’m sure anyone I saw this morning imagined I was doing one hell of a walk of shame.
I’m falling asleep. Maybe. I can’t be sure, but the blackness behind my closed eyes has stopped swirling for a moment when Finn speaks, reminding me he was here in the first place.
“Are you still drunk?”
“Maybe,” I reply into my pillow.
“Did you girls have fun at least? Was it worth it?” Finn sounds irritated and loud, but it could be amplified from the still-drunk hangover I’m suffering.
“Shhhhh. Too loud, Finn.” I whisper in what I think is his direction.
For reasons I’m sure I’ll never be able to understand I stand up to close the blinds for the window above my bed. The light had started to seep in through my eyelids and I needed relief. Before I twist the plastic rod, my stomach flips and I divert my attention to the bathroom.
By the grace of God my face hits the toilet bowl in time. I hate throwing up and the tears trickle down my face throughout the process. I calm down as Finn’s hand sifts through my hair. He’s next to me on the side of the vanity with my hair pulled back from my face. I sit my butt on the floor and he scooches to my back wrapping his arms around me in a hug.
“Let’s get you to bed. I’ll bring you some lunch and you’ll feel better.” He stands and leaves the bathroom returning a few minutes later with a glass of water. The short thick tumbler reminds me of the glass I threw at Cody Thursday night. I wasn’t really aiming at him, but for a flash I wish I had.
Finn sees the slow glance I give the glass. “Don’t worry I cleaned up the spill for you. I didn’t want it to stain your wall and then Ry would never give you your deposit back." Could I be dating a better man?
“Thank you.” My words are scratchy even with the soothing water.
Finn helps me stand and we take slow steps back to my bed. I slide under the covers and close my eyes as my head hits the pillow. I don’t remember Finn closing the blinds to my window, but the room is draped in blissful darkness.
*
Six hours of sleep following a drinking binge does wonders for the body. The door creaks as it’s pulled open releasing me from the last remnants of sleep I’d clung to. I'm starving, but still wary of food. I haven’t forgotten what happened earlier this morning.
I also stink. Before Finn can make it to the bedroom I hop out of bed and make a mad dash for the bathroom. I stumble into the door frame from a small amount of dizziness and smack my already bruised hip again. I wasn’t ready for fast movement, but there’s no time to be hurt or sick now. I need to shower and brush my teeth. I actually smell the alcohol as it seeps from my body. It isn’t pleasant. I am never drinking again.
“Aspen. Are you in here?”
“Just a minute. I’ll be right out,” I shout through the door and realize that while my head still hurts, the loud sounds are no longer a jackhammer to my brain. Improvements.
A quick shower, change of clothes, and clean teeth, I walk in the kitchen to see Finn seated at one of my bar stools—an assortment of food in metallic wrappers laid out in front of him.
“Hey.” I’m nervous, as my short greeting reflects. I mean, what do you say to the man who a few hours earlier held your hair so you could lose the contents of your stomach in front of him? On the bright side, it was all liquid since I can’t remember the last time I had solid food.
Finn’s head snaps up and he grins in my direction. “You look better. I brought you some food.”
Next to him on the counter is a tall glass of brown liquid. It’s suspicious. I don’t want to offend his choice of drink but the smell coming from that direction implies it’s hops, and that means beer. I am not drinking a beer.
