Page 51 of So Much More

twenty-one

Wendy’s question will echo in my mind for weeks to come. I wish I could tell her I didn’t kiss Tammy back, and I’m tempted to preface my answer with an excuse, but I won’t lie to her or try to sugarcoat it.

“Yes. I kissed her back.”

The silence on the other end of the line nearly ends me. I want her to yell, to scream, to tell me exactly how terrible of a boyfriend I am, but she does none of that.

“Why?”

Her voice isn’t soft or timid, which is promising. She’s not going to roll over and take it. She’s going to fight back, whatever that means for her.

“I was drunk. I know that’s an awful reason, but it’s the one I have. I wasn’t thinking straight, and my mouth automatically kissed her back. But then I came to my senses, and I pulled away from her and told her I couldn’t kiss her because I have a girlfriend.”

“How did she respond to that?”

That wasn’t the response I expected, but I answer. “She was horrified, said she’s not that type of woman, and then she threw up.”

“On you?”

I wonder if she’s hoping I’ll say yes.

“No. In the bathroom. I could hear her. And then I threw up. Also in the bathroom, if you’re wondering. The men’s bathroom, that is. We didn’t puke side by side or anything.”

“Don’t try to lighten the mood,” she says.

“Sorry.” I sigh.

“Why did you get drunk? Is there a reason you drank that much?”

I don’t want to tell her what my dad said to me, but I realize it’s important for her to know all the facts, so I do. I tell her every word he said in his quest to tear me down.

“Randall,” she says softly, “that’s not true about you. I hope you know that.”

“I mostly do, but it’s hard to hear something like that from a parent.”

“I know. But please don’t believe it. I wish you had called me as soon as you talked to him. We could have worked through it and probably avoided all the rest of what happened.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “I’m sorry I didn’t.”

We’re both quiet for a long time.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I finally say to her when I can’t take the silence any longer.

“I’m thinking I’m really sad. I’m sad about what your dad said to you. I’m sad that because of what he said, you let yourself drink so much that you kissed someone other than me. I blame the alcohol on the actual kiss, but I blame you for putting yourself in that position. I’m also sad that Tammy got to know what it’s like to kiss you when I haven’t gotten that chance yet. And I’m sad for her. She didn’t deserve for you to put her in that situation. You hurt her, too, you know. And in addition to the sadness, I’m disappointed.”

I didn’t think I could feel worse, but I do. I would have preferred yelling to this calm resignation and disappointment. However, I didn’t miss the “yet” she said in relation to us kissing, and I hold onto that tiny little word, although I have no intention of pointing it out to her.

“I have a feeling I’m more disappointed in me,” I say.

“That’s doubtful. Now, tell me how you missed breakfast with Andrea.”

I explain about setting my alarm wrong.

Wendy asks, “So how did you end up meeting her? Did you wait in the lobby again for her later?”

“No, I asked Melissa to find out Andrea’s last name from you so I could get her a message at the hotel. For the record, Melissa didn’t want to help me, but since it was ultimately going to help you, she did it.”

“Oh.”

---