Page 2 of Find Me

I usher Sam inside my apartment, and we walk towards the couch. Sam places the drinks on the rustic coffee table in front of us, and mine barely touches the wood before I scoop it up, quickly taking a sip to help me wake up. We sit facing each other, our legs crossed and coffees in hand, as we fill each other in on everything that happened last night.

“I honestly can’t believe I drank so much,” I say, my cheeks red with embarrassment. “I don’t even know how I got home or the name of the guy I was talking to at the bar, but I’m pretty sure he brought me back here…” I trail off, catching the look on Sam’s face.

“He brought you home? The guy who you were dancing with?” She looks shocked and concerned.

“I think so, he left me a note…” I trail off again.

“I find it hard to believe that the bad boy god-like model who looks like he’s been to jail and is covered in tattoos tucked you under his wing and brought you home safely just to tuck you into bed… did anything happen?” she asks, her tone suddenly serious.

“I hope you’re right about his looks.” A mischievous smile pulls the corner of my lips upwards. “I’m kind of upset about the fact I can’t remember much about him, especially if you’re describing him as a ‘god-like model’.” I laugh lightly.

“After everything I said, this is what you’re concerned about?” She lets out an exasperated sigh before continuing, “If I were you, I’d try to be more careful with who you bring home, especially someone who looks like he breaks hearts for a living.”

“I don’t know what else to say, Sam,” I say, suddenly feeling defensive.

I take another sip of coffee, the warm liquid comforting despite my hangover.

“I know I was drunk, and I know I don’t remember much about last night,” I start slowly, “but I do remember what I felt holding his hand, Sam. It was… different. As if there were actual sparks jumping between us. I’ve never felt this with anyone before. But I don’t even know his name.” I put my coffee down before dramatically throwing my hands over my face. “God, I wish I didn’t drink so much last night! I want to remember everything about him and see what else that supposedly god-like body can do besides put me to bed.”

Sam laughs at my lust-filled proclamation, placing her coffee on the table before reclining back on the couch.

“As unfortunate as your alcohol-fuelled memory loss is,” she says sarcastically, “at least you can focus all your energy on your next steps instead of on some guy now. What’s your plan, Evi?”

“Plan?” I laugh. “For once in my life, the plan is that there is no plan.”

“Cheers to that!” Sam says.

Morning turns into afternoon as we stay on my couch, watching rom-coms and fueling ourselves with coffee and pizza, waiting for our hangovers to disappear. I pick up another slice of Hawaiian pizza and glance at Sam, who is totally engrossed in the movie flickering on the TV screen. I can’t help but envy her and how much she seems to have her shit together. Not only is she in one of the most prestigious programs at our school, but she has also already lined up jobs for when she graduates. And then there’s me, with no plan and no idea of what I want to do with my life. I take a bite of the pizza in my hand, savoring the flavor as I chew slowly, and I’m caught off guard by the realization that no one has ever asked me what I want to do with my life, and I’ve never even asked myself. Ever since I was a kid, I had always known it was expected that I’d follow in my parent’s footsteps. I swallow, the pizza a lump in my throat, as I try to think about what I want, about what makes me happy.

A few minutes later, it dawns on me: painting. All I want is to paint, and to somehow make a living off my artwork. Excitement builds in my chest at the idea of becoming an artist well-known enough that people pay for my work.

Sam squeals in excitement at the TV, and my attention darts back to the movie playing just as the two main characters lean in for a romantic first kiss before they hold hands, walking down the beach as the end credits begin to roll.

Something in me stirs, and I can’t help but think about last night, about his hand holding mine and the shivers it sent down my spine. Perhaps even thinking about him is playing with fire, but for some reason, I can’t resist.

Sam leaves as the sun starts to set and darkness begins to envelop the city outside, casting shadows throughout my apartment. I close the door behind her, the deadbolt clicking into place loudly, before I trudge upstairs to shower. Even though I’m tired, it doesn’t take long before I’m stepping out from under the water and wrapping a towel around me tightly. I run my hands through my hair before tying it up in an elastic, water still dripping from it onto the nape of my neck, sending a shiver through me. The hot water washed away the remainder of my hangover, and I feel refreshed as I walk into my bedroom in search of fresh clothes. I pull a baggy sweater and leggings out of my drawer just as my phone starts to buzz, the screen flashing brightly as I’m notified of a new email.

My stomach sinks immediately, wondering if it’s my dad responding to the news that I’ve dropped out of school. I pick up my phone, slowly typing my password in so it unlocks.

My breath catches and my heart begins to race as I see an email from my parents’ assistant sitting in my inbox. I take a deep breath as I begin to read.

Hello Evi,

I hope this email finds you well. Please note that your father and stepmother have received your email and have asked me to transcribe their response to you. Their message to you is as follows:

Evangeline,

We are shocked to hear that you have chosen to drop out of your university program, and we hope that you are fully aware of the gravity of your choices and the repercussions that will result from your actions. While we are not surprised by your ability to disappoint us, we were hopeful that you would know to contact us prior to making any decisions that will impact the family. We have given you everything in life, including the tools to become a very successful lawyer, carrying on a family tradition and maintaining the status we have worked so hard to achieve. As you have decided that our path for you is subpar, please note that you are henceforth cut off from all family funds and benefits, including the use of your trust fund, club memberships, and your old bedroom at the house. Should you decide to regain any semblance of common sense and re-enroll into school, we can set up an appointment to discuss reinstating you into the family again. Until then, do not contact us, as we do not support the decision you have made.

Regards, Father and Mother.

My hands start to shake as I hold my phone closer, reading and rereading the message in front of me.

I knew they’d be disappointed in me, angry even, but I did not expect this.

My phone dings again, and I see a text from my oldest brother, Garrett, on the screen.

My chest starts to cave, and hopelessness threatens to crumble everything inside of me as I read his message, where he details how he’s been instructed not to speak to me anymore. Unable to risk being cut off, he explains he won’t be reaching out for a while, our weekend coffees together a thing of the past, at least until he can convince our parents to change their minds.

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