Page 37 of Notes About Vodka

Rhea nods in agreement, her expression softening. "But you also need to be honest with him. No lies, all truths. I know it’s hard, but it’s the only way to build something real, Laura. He deserves to see all of you, even the parts you're afraid to share. Even the parts we don’t know about."

I swallow hard, feeling the knot tighten in my stomach, twisting like a vice. The thought of telling Val everything, of laying my darkest moments bare, terrifies me. The fear grips me like a hand around my throat, squeezing until I can barely breathe.

It's this kind of fear that always brings back the darkest memories. I can’t help but think about the miscarriage last Valentine’s Day. The image of blood on my hands flashes through my mind—bright, startling red. I wasn’t even aware I was pregnant. Sam had looked at me with those cold, accusatory eyes and asked if it was even his, his words cutting deeper than any blade.

It didn’t matter that I hadn’t been with anyone else in over a year, not since I’d told him I didn’t want to be a swinger anymore. I thought he’d understood, but the truth was, he never did. The loss of the baby, something I hadn’t even known I was carrying, shattered something inside me. Broke me in ways I’m still piecing together. It’s why I really left home, why I ran halfway across the country to NYU with Rhea and Skip.

Why I’ve tried so hard to start over, to bury the past where it can’t hurtme anymore.

There’s a sharpness to the fear, a feeling of being laid bare, vulnerable, that makes me hesitate.

“There are some things I just… I don’t want to share,” I say quietly, my voice barely above a whisper. My words hang in the air, fragile and uncertain. “Not with Val. Not yet. Maybe, not ever…”

Rhea reaches across the table, gently pouring me a mimosa. The champagne bubbles up, fizzing over the rim slightly, and she hands it to me with a soft smile. "Here, it’s okay Laura," she says, her voice calm, soothing. "Drink. It might help."

I take the glass, my fingers trembling around the stem. I take a sip, the cold liquid sliding down my throat, but it does nothing to ease the tightness in my chest. I glance at Skipper. He’s watching me closely, his brows furrowed, concern etching lines across his forehead.

"But keeping it all inside, it’s going to hurt you eventually, Laura. Trust me." His voice is steady, but there’s a tremor of worry there. "It’s better to be open, especially if you’re thinking of letting Val in, even a little bit."

I shake my head, my grip tightening on the glass. "I’m not ready for that. Some things need to stay in the closet, a secret," I insist, my voice firm, but there’s a hint of desperation there too. "Like the miscarriage. Or the time I had to drop out of school because my grades tanked from partying too hard with Sam. What about the spinal meningitis that led to my diagnosis and the rods they had to put in my back. Or my mother and her issues. Don’t get me started on the rest of my family. These are all things I’ve kept locked away, buried deep where no one can find them. Where they can’t be used against me. They’re my burdens to bear, not Val’s. How could I ever lay that kind of weight on him?"

Rhea leans in, her eyes searching mine. "But isn’t that what a relationship is about, Laura? Sharing the good and the bad?The light and the dark?" She pauses, letting her words sink in. "Val deserves to know the real you, not just the parts you think are safe to share. He seems like someone who would want all of you, even the parts you’re afraid to show."

I look down, my vision blurring with unshed tears. "I don’t know if I can," I whisper. "It’s too much. I’m too much."

Skipper reaches out, covering my hand with his. "You’re not too much, Laura. Not for us, and not for Val. He seems like a good guy. Maybe he’s stronger than you think."

I swallow, trying to push back the tears that are threatening to spill over. "I just… I don’t want to scare him away. I don’t want him to see all this darkness and decide it’s not worth it."

Rhea squeezes my shoulder gently. "If he really cares about you, he won’t see it that way. He’ll see it as a part of who you are, a part of the person he’s falling for."

I take a deep breath, the weight of their words pressing down on me. I want to believe them, believe that Val could look past all my scars and see the person underneath, but I’m not sure I’m ready to take that risk. Not yet.

"I just need more time," I say finally, my voice barely a whisper. "I need to figure things out first."

Rhea and Skipper nod, understanding in their eyes. "Take all the time you need," Rhea says softly. "We’re here for you, no matter what."

I nod, trying to force a smile, but it feels weak, unsteady. I’m grateful for them, for their support, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, one step away from a fall that I might not survive. And I don’t know if I’m ready to take that step yet.

I sit on the couch, cradling the warm mug of tea Rhea handed me earlier, still feeling the weight of our conversation. The thought of sharing my past with Val looms over me, but I push it aside for now. Skipper flops down next to me with his phone in hand, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Hey, remember this?" he asks, holding up his phone to show a picture of the three of us at some frat party back at Auburn. We’re all wearing ridiculous costumes—Rhea in a giant banana suit, Skipper as a poorly executed werewolf, and me as a rollerskate.

I can’t help but laugh. I had just left rehab for my second spine surgery and was still in a wheelchair. It took my months to walk again after the first surgery didn’t fix my spine. It just made the situation worse.

“Oh, my God, I forgot about that night!” Rhea exclaims, sliding down next to us. “Wasn’t that the party where Laura fell out of her wheelchair into the pool?”

Skipper snorts. “Yeah, because she thought the floaty was an actual unicorn and tried to pull herself up on it so she could ride it.”

I roll my eyes, chuckling despite myself. “In my defense, it was a very convincing floaty. And I might have had a bit too much to drink.”

Rhea shakes her head, still laughing. “Yeah, a bit. And then you insisted on doing karaoke afterward. What did you sing again?”

“‘Total Eclipse of the Heart,’” Skipper chimes in, his eyes twinkling. “And you were so off-key, the neighbors filed a noise complaint.”

I groan, burying my face in my hands. “I was not that bad.”

“You were worse!” Rhea teases, nudging me with her elbow. “But hey, you did it with flair. Even though you were recovering. I’mso proud of you.”

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