“Name two things you can smell… my breath,” I said, wrinkling my nose in disgust as I got a whiff of my own body odor. “And… um… and the rest of me.”
Another deep breath, and my heart rate, which had rocketed only a few moments before, was starting to slow.
“Name one thing you can taste…” I paused. I really didn’t want to say vomit, so I grabbed the toothpaste off the vanity and used my finger to stick some in my mouth, replacing the taste of the vomit with mint. “…toothpaste.”
I sighed, spat the toothpaste out, then straightened, Ricky’s voicereceding from my mind. Surprise slid through me as I realized the exercise had really worked. I wasn’t happy, exactly, but I wasn’t terrified, either.
I made my way to the bedroom and grabbed some clean clothes from my backpack. Refusing to let myself think of what had happened the day before in here, I took a quick, impersonal shower. I started to feel a little more like myself again, but my chest still held this heavy ache that Tylenol did nothing to eliminate.
I sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at my hands, trying to figure out what the hell I was going to say to Lee when I saw him. A glance at the clock by the bed and I realized it was after 10 a.m.
I grabbed my phone off its charger and reviewed the schedule Lizzie had emailed me for the week. It was fairly light, thank goodness. She hadn’t wanted to have to do another round of cancellations if I wasn’t able to handle it. I didn’t have anything scheduled for today. Tuesday was a guest art lecture at a local college, and Wednesday was a current events roundtable at a community center in the evening. I had a week off then before the convention, which ran Friday/Saturday/Sunday, then it was back to Seattle. A strange twinge twisted in my chest at the thought of going back to my apartment alone. With Lizzie and her boyfriend getting ready to move, it just wasn’t the home it had been.
I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to figure out how to apologize to Lee and figure out if there was any way to salvage our budding friendship. Or, at a minimum, our business relationship.
I opened the door to the bedroom and walked through into the hallway. The door to Lee’s office was open, but the light was out. I peeked into the room, but the pillow and blanket on the couch were folded neatly, and there was no sign of my host.
I walked through the living room to the kitchen. The place was empty except for the click and whir sounds of the air conditioning switching on. I spotted a piece of paper with an M scrawled on the front of it.
I froze when I saw it, my mind conjuring all kinds of things itmight say. The most likely one was that he was disgusted with how I'd behaved and he wanted me out before he came back.
Hell,Iwas disgusted by how I'd behaved. Fuck. How could I have been sostupid? My hands were shaking as I reached for the paper, Ricky’s voice still whispering to the back of my brain. I half sat, half fell into one of the kitchen chairs to read it.
Mason –
Heading to work. I left an ice pack in the freezer for you, in case you needed it for your head. I didn’t want to disturb you last night. I should be home by six. Help yourself to food in the fridge. There’s coffee if you want it.
I think we need to talk.
Lee
Well…it didn’tsoundlike he hated me. Maybe.Fuck. How the hell should I know? I mean, I knew he was gay. The whole male “fiancé” thing kind of gavethataway. Plus, he had to have the most gay-friendly family I’d ever seen. He had two moms after all, and my gaydar had pinged strongly on each of his siblings I’d met. But the whole “we need to talk” part sounded ominous.
Shit. I'd no idea what I was doing. This was going to require expert help.
I sent a quick text from my phone, then grabbed a peanut butter sandwich and headed back to the bedroom. I pulled my laptop out and read through some emails – Lee had given me the wireless passwords yesterday. As I sat there trying to distract myself from everything, my phone pinged, announcing a text message. Thank god. Help was coming…
LIZZIE: Hey, Bug! How’s it going in the Midwest?
ME: Heya Liz.
LIZZIE: Whoa! Restrain yourself, boyo. Don’t overwhelm me with your excitement.
ME: Sorry. Rough day. Night. Whatever.
LIZZIE: Wha…? What happened? I thought all was golden yesterday?
ME: Operative word: WAS.
LIZZIE: Tell Aunt Lizzie all about it.
ME: /sighs
ME: I fucked up.
I stared at the phone, waiting for Lizzie to type a response, when suddenly it vibrated, displaying a photo of my best friend and manager as it played the Dixie Chicks “I’m not ready to make nice”. I smiled and clicked the Accept button.
“Hey Lizzie Bear,” I said, turning the phone on speaker.
