Page 39 of Don't Leave Me

“No, I live in the East Village,” he responded, then eyed me with a quick smile.

“So wait – he’s yourbossthen, right Han?” Emily interrogated me curiously.

Oh, Emily. She had always been an extrovert and I loved her, but I was suddenly embarrassed now that it was actually brought up.

“Um…yeah,” I shrugged nonchalantly, my cheeks feeling warm.

Emily smiled wider. “You crazy kids,” she shook her head and then stood up. “I’m gonna get more cider. Do you guys want some? Wait, Han…are you still drinking or no?”

Shit. “Yeah, sometimes,” I nodded, playing it cool. “But no, I’m fine,” I added.

“Alright. Yeah, your mom gets all weird about it, doesn’t she?” she asked lightly, but walked into the kitchen before I could even answer.

Emily was just asking an innocent question – a justifiable one – but I knew Michael would ask me about it. And I knew Emily probably just figured that Michael knew. I mean, hewasmy boyfriend after all, right? God, this all happened so fast.

Michael turned to look at me, his eyes filled with concern.

“What’s she talking about?” He was quiet, his tone serious and his eyes even more so.

“Nothing,” I shook my head, not looking him in the eye.

“Hana, are you not supposed to be drinking?” he questioned, catching my gaze.

My face was on fire now. “Technically, no,” I admitted.

“Why not?” he went on.

“I’ll tell you later,” I shrugged, embarrassed and certainly not wanting to talk about it right then and there.

“Hana, stop it. Tell me now,” he demanded, his tone even sharper.

“I’m not an alcoholic or anything,” I defended quickly. “I’m just on medication,” I finally answered, although I was still being vague.

I crossed my arms and stared at the fire, angry that Michael was hounding an answer out of me. He sighed heavily.

“Medication for what?” he interrogated.

“Dinner is ready!” we heard my mom call from the kitchen.

I looked at Michael and quickly started to stand up, picking up my mug of hot apple cider and taking it with me, but Michael was quick to take it away from me and set it on the bottom of the brick fireplace.

“No more of this,” he said sharply and started for the kitchen.

I scoffed, but followed him in the kitchen anyway.

My mom had our dining table all set up and instructed everyone to take a plate and serve themselves. I pouted silently as Michael handed me a plate and gave me a quick and sharp glare, then started to put salad on his plate in front of me.God, who does he think he is? My dad? My dad wouldn’t even be this strict with me. He’s taking this whole dominant thing too far. But I agreed to this. This is supposed to benefit both of us. Why am I so angry at him then?Emily was quickly by my side and laughing loudly with one of our uncles, oblivious of my obvious sour mood. I put small portions of salad and stuffing on my plate, an even smaller portion of mashed potatoes and cooked carrots, then put a bread roll on top of everything and started for the table. Michael set down his plate and pulled out a chair for me, eyeing my small plate and shaking his head.What, is he gonna make me eat more?I guess that’s what I was trying to do. I was trying to see how ridiculous I could be and see if Michael would try to punish me. I was being a brat. I smiled obnoxiously at him and sat down.

“That’s all you’re going to eat?” he frowned, staring me down.

I nodded. “I’m not hungry,” I retorted.

Everyone started to sit around the table, quickly digging into their food, and Emily took a seat next to me and looked worriedly at me as she leaned to whisper into my ear.

“I didn’t even think back there. I just figured that he knows. Does he know or am I really fucking stupid?” she asked quickly.

I shrugged. I wasn’t even mad at her – she didn’t mean any harm. I was mad that Michael wasn’t letting it go.

“I was trying to find the right time to tell him. Now is a good a time as any,” I whispered back.

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