I sit back down in the guest chair and lean over, resting my elbows on my knees. "I'm sorry I made you mad tonight," I tell her.
She shrugs. I can assume she's not sure how to respond. Her lack of eye contact says enough. She's embarrassed.
"Why are you here?" she asks.
I could be the hero. I could tell her I was the one following her closely enough to see that she fell into the water, then dove in to save her.
"You didn't have anyone to go with you when the ambulance came. I didn't want you to have to be alone."
"Oh," she says. "Thank you." I'll take theThank You. It was more than I anticipated getting from her.
I watch her senses return one at a time. She reaches to find the disarray her hair is in, then runs her fingers beneath her eyes in search of smudged makeup.
"You look perfect," I tell her. I should stop with the compliments.
"I don't have a problem, you know." The words feel like a knife plunging into my stomach. How could she say that after the last two nights?
"That's for you to decide," I tell her. It isn't what I want to say.
"I don't," she repeats. "The doctor thinks I do, though. My blood alcohol level was .230%. I guess that's high. They have me pinned with reckless cause for my fall. I'm not sure what that means, though."
I can only guess that she will speak to a counselor before she gets discharged, but I'm not a hundred percent sure. "It's probably just for their records," I tell her.
"They won't believe me when I tell them that I don't normally drink."
"Why not?" I question.
August shrugs. I wonder if she realizes the amount of trouble she's facing. Even if the doctors release her with just a talking to, things will only worsen if she continues down the same path. Those who say they don't have a problem often have a bigger problem than those who admit to their flaws.
"How did Keegan pull his problem off so inconspicuously?" she asks me.
"Someone always sees what everyone else is too busy to notice," I tell her.
Her focus swings to my face, understanding the meaning of my words. I see she needs help. I could be the only one who knows the seriousness of this trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Two
August
He's here.
It wasn't my first thought upon waking up, though. I spent the first twenty minutes freaking out, trying to figure out where I was and how I had gotten here. The memories slowly percolated.
A nurse told me that my friend was with me when it happened or found me just after it happened. They aren't sure which, and neither am I. It wasn't hard to assume they were talking about Chance since I have no other male friends. In fact, I was hoping they were talking about Chance and not the other two men I had encountered at the bars.
In any case, no one was there with me when I was on the bridge, trying to throw my note into the lake.
"Your friend, Chance, is going to come in and visit with you now. Is that okay?"
It is him.
With the effect that sobering up is having on my head, I feel a sense of mortification creeping over me. So, I do the only thing I can think to do; close my eyes and pretend I'm asleep.
It was easier than I thought it might be. This exhaustion is a force to fight. I was in and out of consciousness more than he must have seen.
Now that I'm coming-to again, I notice his hand encapsulating mine. It's the first time our hands have touched, at least I think so.
They're warm, firm, and much larger than mine. I don't know why Chance is holding onto me like this. I've been a jerk to him, and he didn't want a whole lot to do with me last night.
