“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death. Amen.”
She starts again, repeating the words over and over, and I am disgusted with myself for finding solace in mouthing the words along with her. Yet it’s a few minutes in which I feel close to my father, and I get to have a taste of what it’s like to lean on a higher power, to believe someone is watching out for me.
Tomorrow, however, I know I will wake up in more ways than one. I will again be grounded and know that there is no higher power in the real world, because it’s a place where there are no good reasons why our souls are ripped.
For now, though, I listen to her prayers. Her voice calms and slows, and she falls asleep halfway through one of her repeated Marys.
I, however, am left awake, wondering what the hell is making her beg for forgiveness.
13
SMASHED UP
THERE IS Agood possibility that I’ve had a touch too much wine, but I don’t care. I’m of legal drinking age, and if I want to get happily tipsy after Thanksgiving dinner then I will not feel guilty about it. Not now that I’ve given up the hard-alcohol binge drinking. The wine is enhancing my already good mood, and I take another sip of the chardonnay. It feels just right to be way too full and sitting on the floor of the dorm lounge wrapped in a soft shawl while Chris, who is behind me on the couch, occasionally touches my hair and rubs my shoulders.
Sabin is sitting on top of the half-cleared dinner table where we spent most of our afternoon eating and drinking, and he’s got his guitar. For the past few hours we’ve been yelling out song requests and trying to find something that he doesn’t know. And every ten minutes or so, Chris hollers a succession of song titles, “‘Freebird’! ‘Cat’s in the Cradle’! ‘Yesterday’! ‘Wild World’!” and doesn’t stop until I slap his leg enough to shut him up. Fortunately, we seem to be the only students left in the dorm this holiday, so no one else has had to endure our constant noise.
Zach and Eric have been snuggling nonstop all night, and it’s pretty damn sweet. They’re on the floor, and Zach is sitting in front of Eric, leaning his back into Eric’s chest. Eric has his arms wrapped protectively around Zach, and once in a while he leans down and kisses Zach’s head or shoulder. It’s fucking adorable, and so adorable that I can’t even be jealous of what they have. As for whatIhave? I have a room full of people who I didn’t have a few months ago. I have more than I could have imagined.
“Well, kids.” Estelle gets up from the armchair she’s occupied for the past hour. She waves her cell around. It’s as if last night’s crying and manic praying had never happened. She looks as pulled together as ever.
“I’m headed to my history professor’s house. He’s invited people who are in town for Thanksgiving over for coffee and dessert.”
“Nooooo, don’t go!” Sabin takes a swig from his beer. “I was just about to do my rendition of ‘November Rain.’”
“In that case, I definitely gotta go.” She starts to pull on layers to face the cold.
“Fine, fine. Be that way.” He strums the guitar for a second and then lifts his head sharply as a huge grin appears. “But before you abandon us, I have a send-off!” He starts to head for the door to the hall. “Meet me out front on Blakemore Ave. in five minutes.” And then he’s gone.
“Does he mean outside?” Estelle mock-whines. “Shit, it’s cold out! We’re into, like, negative numbers!”
“What’s he up to?” I ask.
“No idea. It could be anything.”
“He’s an asshole,” Eric grumbles. “But we’re still going.” He pats Zach’s shoulders.
Zach slowly stands before reaching out his hand to pull Eric up. “And thenweare going home.”
Eric looks down to hide his blush. “Everyone bundle up. Hopefully this will be fast.”
“If we’re going out there, I’m finishing this glass of wine first,” Chris says. “Fleece has nothing on alcohol when it comes to staying warm.”
I follow Chris’s suggestion and finish my wine. “Okay, okay, let’s go. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back to doing nothing. Just as it should be.”
Soon we are all assembled on Blakemore Avenue as instructed, shivering and waiting for Sabin. Fifteen minutes go by. The cold is truly painful.
“Where is that drunk bastard?” Chris demands.
“Ha! Look who’s talking!” Eric teases. “I think we’re all a little drunk.”
“Are you drunk enough to give me your coat, because even my tits are freezing,” Estelle says. “Pretty sure my nipples could cut glass right—”
“Hey! Hey!” Eric immediately takes off his coat and hands it to her. “If you promise to never again talk about your tits, you can keep this coat forever.”
“Aw, thank you, Eric! My savior!” She throws on his coat while he sticks out his tongue.
“Wait, shhhh, listen,” Zach says with a slight slur. “Do you hear that?”
