Lucas:just kidding I know they’re food
Lucas:also accepted a photography gig for the school so trying to Be Normal
Armand:So you’re not alone.
Armand:That is, you seem to have a solid support network. More than that, you’re a man of many connections and impressive influence. Almost intimidating.
Lucas:intimidating lol sure
Armand:Who wouldn’t be intimidated by King Beef
Lucas:you are absolutely NOT DOING “KING BEEF”
Lucas:also how dare you make me giggle while I’m busy being sad
Armand:mwaha
Armand:But seriously, I know you must be feeling shitty but sometimes it’s better to be alone than with the wrong person.
August 7th
Armand:Lucas?
August 8th- One week until the convention
My alarm went off at three in the afternoon, and I pawed at it angrily. It was the weekend, no need to scramble out of bed, shock my body into well-feigned sobriety, and rush to the university. I could lie here if I so wished, for hours, in a state of utter gormlessness.
Waking up was starting to feel a bit too familiar: the ashy mouth, the chlorine burn in my sinuses, the pounding headache and shriveled insides. I could tell before I’d even opened my eyes that too much light was leaking through the blinds. That the moment Ididopen them, my eyes would begin to melt, the world would tilt away and pulse in an unstoppable flicker vertigo. Full Bucha effect.
I dug the heels of my hands into the hollows of my eyes, intensifying the pain briefly to the point of ecstasy, and then reached for the water bottle a kinder—if inebriated—version of myself had left on the floor near the bed. I downed it, breath whistling through my nose, then started the slow, precarious undertaking of sitting up.
I’d fully buggered my sleep schedule, staying up too late—or too early, rather—texting with Lucas. I was glad to hear he’d talked to Skyler, and that he was generally feeling better. The same acerbic wit that had made his little notes and naggy texts such a weirdly guilty pleasure had begun to suffuse his tone again. Back were the unexpected bits of dark humor, the flashes of self-deprecation, and streak of pure meanness. The mix of sweet heat and bite was what first kept me from dismissing him as nothing more than a fussy, bothersome flatmate. The same reluctant respect I’d developed for him early on had grown, despite the fact that he hid my ink and whined about all the ways I cocked up and the rubbish I left behind; respect which had then been transformed by concern and had bloomed into a full-blown affection.
Bollocks, Finch was right. Ididonly ever take to people who offered me verbal abuse.
Speaking of abuse ... I slowly stood up out of bed, still shielding my eyes from the light that trickled through the window. My body was re-adjusting to consciousness, but it could use some help. I stumbled out of the bedroom and down the hall to the toilet, where I washed and engaged in a brief spell of glowering at myself in the mirror.
I’d barely done any work last night. I was nearing the manky end of my Yerkes-Dodson curve.
And I was drinking too much.
The admission felt like the tear of a muscle, the crack of a bone, a bloody moment of emotional incontinence ... or an emotional moment of bloody incontinence.
I glared down at the mobile I’d brought with me to the loo. At the next step I absolutely had to take.
“Sabah el khir, habibi. Good morning, America!”
I winced at Karim’s cheerful, deeply obnoxious voice. “It’s afternoon here, I think.”
“Well, it’s just after midnight in Southall, technically morning, so ... four in the afternoon in California?” He chuckled, both of us painfully aware how typical it was for him to be versed in time zones, while I struggled to locate myself in the known universe. “Getting dicey over there, is it?”
There was no point in sanitizing any of it. “I’m on a bender. It started with just a few nips to get my nerves in check, but then ...”
As expected, Karim commended me for making the call, and when I started dragging him into my spiral of shame, reminded me that lingering on blame and self-loathing was its own kind of indulgence.
“You know you have to find a meeting,hayati, I can google—”
“So can I, Karim. Thank you.”
