I wish I could scrub it from my mind.I’m standing next to a stick of dynamite, and its fuse is slowly burning down, and I’m unable to move.
“What have I gotten myself into?” I whisper.
I go to the sink and drain three mugs of water. While I boil water for my coffee, I hear my mother's voice. She had been a devout Christian and a schoolteacher, and had always raised me to do the right thing. To be in the service of others. To be kind. To listen to my conscience.
And what is conscience telling me? I need to tell him the truth, obviously. But what would happen then?
I’d have to leave.
I make my coffee and take it outside. My hungover thoughts keep colliding and combusting like particles in a science experiment.
I calculate how much they owe me for the week, and it isn’t much. It will get me a tank of gas and maybe a few nights at a campsite or extremely cheap motel. But not enough to make a fresh start in a new town, let alone a new country.
If I leave now, I’ll be sleeping in my car again, or back with Neil, before I know it. I can’t let that happen. I need to ignore my conscience and keep my head down for the rest of the summer. Do my job and avoid any more awkward situations. When I have enough money saved, I’ll buy my plane ticket and start a new life.
As I walk down the path towards the house, the humiliation of last night replays again in my mind. My head in the vase.
Correction: Theantiquevase.
Correction: Theincredibly creepyantique vase.
“How’s the head?”
I turn to find Bradley jogging towards me. I instinctively cringe, though I hope this isn’t too visible.
“Fine. Mostly. Just a bit tired.”
“Shocker.” When he smiles, his lips open just a fraction, and I’m surprised by how much I want to touch them. Whatever I felt last night has clearly stayed in my body, mutating like a virus. “I’m a wreck.”
“You didn’t look very drunk.”
“I’m good at hiding it.”
“So you went running this morning?”
“Cleans out the toxins,” he says. “Or maybe it’s penance. Too much Calvinism in my blood. But I needed to have a few drinks. Helps me forget what happened.”
“Forget?” I panic, wondering if he’s trying to forget what I did. But then I remember why he had been drinking. “I’m so sorry. I totally forgot.”
“It’s fine.” He looks up at the house. “I’m over it. But I’d better go shower.”
“Wait, before you go.” At that moment, I feel a drop of rain land on my shoulder. I look up. The sky is grey and threatening. “Can I borrow some gas for my car? I’m empty.”
“Like, a container of gas? I’m afraid not, actually. Our cars are electric. But can I give you a ride?”
“Yes, please. And my phone? Grace took it.”
“What do you mean she took it?”
“She said something about radiation.”
He swears and shakes his head. “I’m sorry. My wife is obviously a highly original woman. But she’s also a massive kook. Come inside, and I’ll have a look for you.”
I follow him into the house, staying a careful three steps behind. The living room looks immaculate, as if last night had never happened, though I notice the vase is missing.
“Wait here,” Bradley says, heading for the stairs. “I’ll check her study first.”
As he disappears, I stand awkwardly in the center of the room, afraid to disturb anything. I check the clock on the wall and do a double-take. Three-fifteen? That can’t be right. Did I really sleep away most of the day?
