“Not much. You just kept mumbling and saying things were going to be different now.”
Not wanting to explain the whole thing to Christie, I say, “Man, I don’t even know what I was saying. A couple buddies and I went out to have a couple drinks, and I guess we just took it too far. I should know better than to do hard liquor.”
That last part is actually true.
The look she shoots me says she’s not buying what I’m selling, but she doesn’t call me out on it. She instead nods.
I think she knows that she and I shouldn’t go too far down the feelings road when we both know that road is a dead end.
“I’m sorry I was so fucked up,” I tell her. “I should never have come over like that.”
“Beau, it’s not a big deal.”
I’m about to tell her that it is in fact a big deal, but she keeps going. “I know what it’s like to want to forget about your problems for a little while with something that maybe isn’t the healthiest outlet.”
“You get drunk too?”
She smiles. “No, I fuck you.”
I can’t tell if she’s kidding or not, and right now, I’m not sure that I really want to know the answer.
Slowly getting out of Christie’s bed, I realize I’m still fully clothed. I even have my shoes on.
“I’m really sorry,” I reiterate.
She tells me it’s okay once again, but I make a mental note that I’m going to buy her some new sheets. At this point, it’s the least I could do. Maybe I’ll include some flowers. And an apology note. Hell, maybe just some cash.
Okay, not cash. That may make her feel like a hooker.
Or would it since we didn’t even sleep together?
Lord, I’m making my head hurt even worse.
After a couple more apologies, I manage to get out of Christie’s and start walking home. Usually, I take my walk of shame at night after she and I have had our fun. There’s usually a pep in my step because I just got laid. In the early morning sun, I feel like a piece of shit.
My head continues to pound as the rays beat down on me. I know it’s not even hot out, but it feels like a damn spotlight targeting me.
I walk through my front door, expecting to be greeted by Mia, but the house is completely silent. Last time I remember talkingto my mom, she said she was going to bring Mia home. I assume she still has my dog because Mia’s not one that would run off. Even if she did, everyone around here knows her and would bring her home.
I figure I need to go get her, but I’m going to shower first. I’m sure I smell like a distillery.
I stand under the spray of the hot water until it turns cold, and I thank God that I don’t have to go to work today. I guess I should be thanking Dylan. He’s the one who switched shifts with me when he saw my condition last night. That gives me a whole day to pull myself together and stop being so dramatic.
After I’m showered, I take out my contacts in exchange for my glasses for the day and leave for my mom’s.
Usually, I’d walk, but with how I feel, driving sounds easier…and faster.
As soon as I pull in her driveway, I see Mia doing a happy little dance on the other side of the screen door. No matter how crappy I feel, that dog never ceases to make me smile.
I step out of the truck, and she adds some cute excited yelps to her tapping feet.
“Hi, girl,” I greet, reaching down to give her belly rubs.
My mother must hear me and comes walking in from the kitchen. “Man, you look like hell.”
“Hello to you too.”
“Sorry, honey. But you really do look like death warmed over.”
