Page 17 of Love in Pieces

He leads me up to the second floor. The bedroom door he stops in front of is closed with a piece of notebook paper taped to the front of it that reads in big, red block letters “DO NOT ENTER.” Right. Because that’s going to keep a bunch of horny college kids from entering. He pushes the door open anyway. A couple sits on the unmade bed making out.

“Out,” he says lazily, still walking his way through the room to an en-suite bathroom on the right wall. They quickly scramble from the room, pulling shirts and skirts down as they go.

I hesitate as I step into the cluttered bedroom. “Do you live here?” I ask, looking around at the mess of clothes scattering the floor. The desk on the left wall is covered in dishes and wrappers. I force myself closer to the bathroom, stepping over a stack of textbooks, while he searches the cabinet under the sink for something.

“No. The guy who lives here is a close friend.” He passes me a blue hand towel and sits on the edge of the tub. The blue and green shower curtain is pulled to the side revealing a three-in-one bottle of soap. Typical.

Finally stepping into the bathroom, I dab the towel onto my pants to soak up the contents of my drink. When I wet the edge of the towel to wipe off a sticky spot on my arm, he decides to chime in.

“I’m Dallas by the way. Also, I don’t drink. I’m not drunk. It was an honest mistake. This house is really crowded.”

“A college guy who doesn’t drink. That’s a new one.” I glance up. He’s watching me intently, a slight smile gracing his lips. That stare makes me pause. It’s not unsettling. He seems curious, probably wondering why I’ve been crying. He scratches the back of his head, revealing a thick bicep. Dark black lines of a tattoo peek out from under his white T-shirt sleeve, but I can’t quite make out what it is.

Focus.

I concentrate on cleaning my pants. “Sorry for jumping to conclusions. I didn’t come here in the best mood, and I just caught my boyfriend—well, ex-boyfriend now? I don’t know—cheating on me, so I guess I’m taking it out on everyone else.”Jeez, Abby. Why not reveal your whole life story to this stranger?I’m not sure why, but I feel oddly comfortable around him, enough to blab my mouth to him, too, apparently. Must be the alcohol.

I turn back to the sink to wash my hands when I realize I never returned the introduction. “Oh, and I’m Abby. Thanks for this,” I say, gesturing widely to the whole bathroom.

“Sure thing, but that really sucks. I’m sorry. The guys at this school are all douchebags.”

“Clearly.”

He chuckles. “Ouch.”

The corner of my mouth ticks up for a moment as I hold back a giggle. “Well, you could be. I don’t know you. Plus, you did sayallthe guys. So, unless you don’t go here, that includes you.” I turn around to see his reaction and lean my butt against the sink. I fold my arms over my chest, willing my racing heart to slow. Why is it beating so fast?

“Okay, fair.” He smiles fully this time, a tight grip holding the edge of the tub. “I can go beat some ass if I need to. Just point him out.” He raises his clenched fists and punches the air a few times.

“You walked right into that one. And God, no. I really don’t need any more reason for him to—” but I stop short before I say what I was going to say. I turn back to the sink, swallowing the knot in my throat. The heat rising in my cheeks returns as memories flood in. That’s when I notice the makeup on my wrist is mostly gone. I didn’t even think about the bruise when I was cleaning myself up. I clamp a hand over my wrist, hoping it hasn’t been noticeable this entire time.

“Hey,” he says in a calm tone. He squats down next to the sink, a hand braced next to my hip on the porcelain. He looks up at my downturned face, searching for my eyes. I chance a look down at him. He’s concerned. He looks between my eyes as if he’s trying to find answers or the right words. “I don’t know what all happened between you two, but he’s not worth it. That’s not to say you don’t have every right to cry and scream, but don’t waste another minute on this guy.”

He sounds like Meredith. I would love to call her and tell her everything, but she’s just going to say “I told you so” before trying to convince me I was wrong about him all along. For some reason, though, I want to listen to him. Maybe because he hasn’t been telling me this for almost the entire duration of Sam and I’s relationship. But he’s being so kind and genuine that I feel like I could let him in on everything I’ve been feeling, on all the abuse I’ve been taking, on the absolute wreck that is my life, especially now. Nope. That’s the alcohol talking, for sure.

I quit my job. How am I supposed to support myself now? Am I really breaking up with Sam? Would he let me break up with him? Maybe he’s been wanting to break up for a while and this gave him the right excuse. What have I done so wrong that he felt the need to find someone else?

“Thanks,” is all I can muster. I wipe the tears from my waterline, pulling off some black eyeliner in the process.

Dallas sighs before standing up and moving back to the edge of the tub. “Anything I can do? I know we just met, but if I can help, I will.”

“I don’t think so. I just need to figure out what I’m doing with my life.” I hang my head as I lean against the sink again. “I’m going to go get another drink. I’m way too sober for this shit.”

He stands up and pauses as if contemplating what to say when his phone starts ringing. “Okay. Go get that drink. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He waves his phone in the air signaling that he has to take the call and leaves me there in silence. Good to know there is still one good guy in this world, I guess.

I dry my hands and cheeks with the towel and grab my drink before carefully making my way back out through the bedroom, bracing myself on anything I can find, in search of something, anything, to rid me of my memories from tonight. There’s no way in hell I am going back up for more jungle juice. Sam may very well be sucking on some other chick’s face again. He’s nowhere to be seen down here.

I make my way to the kitchen where I remember seeing an assortment of liquor earlier.Please still be there.Who am I kidding? This is a college party. Of course, it will still be there. On the small center island sits more bottles of liquor than I can count, most of them open already. Without thinking, I grab the first one in front of me, take a long swig from the bottle—the taste is not pleasant—and pour what I think is at least two shots worth into my cup. I check the label. Jim Beam. I can already feel the hangover tomorrow, but after what I saw upstairs, a hangover is the last thing stopping me from drinking tonight. I grab an open two-liter of Coke and add it to my cup.

I peer over the rim of my cup, taking in the old, orange, 90s wood-stained cabinets and the once white, now pale-yellow, sun-stained vinyl countertops. There are a lot of people standing along the outer counter. No one I recognize, though. One of the hardest parts about going to the parties Sam gets invited to is not knowing anyone. Then again, it’s also a bit of a perk that no one knows me. Especially tonight. With Meredith being my closest friend, who am I kidding, my only friend, I don’t get out much. We both work a lot, and she spends most of her free time in the art studio.

A girl in a yellow sun dress sits casually on the counter with a guy braced between her thighs. In the hallway to the living room, a couple stands groping each other rather obscenely. I wander through the first floor, taking in each room. Nothing has been updated since the early 2000s. The dirty beige carpet, floral wallpaper, and trying-to-be-trendy, turquoise-painted wood furniture scream for help. Who decorated this place?

My drink seems to quickly finish itself. Refill after refill and I slowly start to lose my sense of balance. And time for that matter. I have no idea how long I’ve been wandering around. I brace myself on whatever is closest as I meander out the back door into the backyard. A bonfire lights up a section of the yard. Off-key chords of a guitar reverberate between the house and a small above-ground pool where a few students run naked to the edge and jump in.

Skinny dipping could be fun.

And I’m tired of being Sam’s toy. It’s time I do something for myself. I deserve some fun tonight.

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