There was a suspicious-looking glint in his eye. “Wait a second. Was that really a hangover cure, or did you just trick me into drinking broccoli?”
Hudson shrugged and smiled wide. “All’s fair in love and getting into shape. I had to get cruciferous veggies into you somehow.”
“I don’t know what shocks me more, how devious you are or the fact that you saidveggies.”
“Come on, girl,” he said, giving me his hand. “Time to tuck you in so you can sleep this off.”
He tucked me in on the couch and put a large glass of water on the coffee table next to me. He sat on the couch sideways, facing me. “Don’t forget to hydrate. A gallon of water. That will right you. That and a few hours of sleep.”
My traitorous eyes filled with tears again. “Why are you being so nice to me?”
“Because you’re not nice to you.”
“Look at me. I’m such a loser.”
“You’re not a loser.”
“I threw up in your car. You must hate me.”
“The car thing wounded me, I have to admit.”
“I’m so sorry I did that.”
He took my hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “This isn’t your fault. It’s my fault.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m the one who drank half of a keg of beer.”
“You wouldn’t have drunk anything if it wasn’t for me. It’s my fault. I gave you shit for eating ice cream, and now you have alcohol poisoning. I tried to help you, but I only succeeded in hurting you. I’m the loser, Eliza. Not you. Me.”
I squeezed his hand back. “If you’re a loser, then there isn’t a person alive or dead who’s a winner. You’re Mr. Perfect. You’re flawless. It’s like God forgot to give you a flaw. You probably don’t even have a belly button.”
Hudson laughed and lifted his shirt. His belly button was there, just where it was supposed to be. A perfect innie, surrounded by washboard abs.
I closed my eyes because he was difficult to look at. Too perfect. Too unreal. A belly button, but no belly. I didn’t like how affected I was by looking at a man’s non-belly.
“Before you go to sleep, I’m going to give you the third commandment,” he told me.
“Are we still doing the commandment thing? Even if you’re Moses, I’m not sure that I’m one of the Chosen People where fitness is concerned.”
“Now that youknow thyself, it’s time to try something new,” he said, ignoring my comment. “That’s the third commandment.”
“That’s easy. I did a Keg Stand. That’s new.”
Hudson ignored that comment, too. He was very good at ignoring my comments. “Try something new that won’t make you sick. And keep knowing yourself. You still have a ways to go in that department, but I’m leaving in a few days, so we have to move this along fast.”
“Okay, boss,” I mumbled. The ill effects of the alcohol were dimming and were being replaced by a wave of fatigue that was impossible to fight. I drifted off to sleep with Hudson still sitting on the couch, his thighs touching my hip.
A few hours later, I woke up with a start, sure I had forgotten something important, but totally unable to remember what I had forgotten.
I rolled off the couch and knocked into the coffee table and made the glass of water spill. There was no sign of Hudson. My tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth, a swollen, dry lump of flesh that made me want to retch again.
“I’m going to die,” I moaned. “Please let me die.”
I hadn't had more than one drink at a time in ten years. I had never gone to college, so I never got used to being sloshed. Damn me for not going to college. I should have at least taken one class, gone to one frat party, prepared for this eventuality. I could feel the dregs of alcohol in every cell in my body. “Get out of my cells, you dregs,” I moaned. They ignored me. They were still there. I could feel them. They were rooted in, stuck in place, determined to stay forever, sucking out my good health, even though Hudson thought I wasn’t in any kind of good health. Well, the joke was on Hudson. I was in great health until the booze got me. Now I had proof.
“I can never feel worse than I do right this second,” I moaned. “Never. Torture me, and I wouldn’t feel worse. Take pictures of my stretch marks and put them on Tik Tok, I wouldn’t feel worse. I am as bad as it gets.”
The doorbell rang.
