Page 70 of Notes About Vodka

LAURA

“Vodka is like love—strong, intoxicating, and capable of setting fire to your veins.”

It’s been a week since I last saw my mom, and the memory of that hospital room still lingers, tied to the guilt and hesitation that keeps me away. Every time I close my eyes, I see her frail hand in mine, the look of regret in her eyes as she apologized. I know she’s trying, but something inside me hesitates.

Maybe it’s fear of seeing her so vulnerable again, or maybe it’s the weight of my own guilt, knowing I’m keeping my distance when she might need me the most.

It’s easier to avoid it, to tell myself I’ll go back soon, but the truth is, I’m not sure I can face her—or my own feelings—just yet.

Every time I think about going back, I remember the look in her eyes—a mix of regret and desperation—and it makes my heart ache. I’m not ready to face it again, to face the reality of our relationship and what it demandsof me. Instead, I keep finding reasons to stay away, even though I know deep down that avoidance is only making the guilt worse.

I try to focus on other things. I bury myself in my classes, pouring over textbooks, lab assignments, and piano practice to keep my mind occupied. Sometimes it works, and I feel productive, almost normal again. Other times, my mind wanders, and the weight of everything I’m avoiding creeps back in, making it hard to focus.

It’s like I’m running from my thoughts,Mom, Sam, school, work, feeling this lingering sickness, now Val...but they always find a way to catch up. When that’s not enough, I throw myself into tidying the apartment, organizing shelves and drawers that don’t even need it.

If I’m not at the apartment with Rhea and Skipper, I’m now spending more time with Val.

He’s become my anchor, sending me little gifts—books he thinks I’ll like, my favorite snacks, or a silly postcard—and checking in on me constantly. It’s comforting in a way I hadn’t expected, though it also makes me uneasy.

Val keeps hinting about us moving in together. It feels comforting in a way—the idea of having someone steady and dependable—but it also overwhelms me.What if I’m not ready? What if it changes everything too soon?We haven’t even done more than kiss a few times since the amazing Halloween orgasm, and part of me worries about rushing something that feels so fragile and new.

And geez, my birthday is just around the corner. Should I tell him? What if he thinks I expect a gift? Oh, I’m overcomplicating all of this…

Rhea and Skipper’s voices snap me out of my thoughts one afternoon as I sit on the couch mid-November. I’m absently tracing the seam of a pillow while plucking on the keys of mykeyboard. The late morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft shadows on the worn rug and cluttered coffee table.

A faint smell of lavender from a nearby candle mixes with the aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen, grounding me momentarily in the comforting familiarity of our apartment.

My chest feels heavy from the swirling guilt and uncertainty I’ve been wrestling with, but their laughter pulls me back to the present, like a sudden ray of sunlight breaking through a storm. They’re in the kitchen, whispering conspiratorially. I lean back, pretending not to notice, but when Skipper starts laughing, I can’t help myself.

"Alright, what are you two scheming about?" I tease, raising my eyebrows and crossing my arms with a playful smirk. "Should I be concerned?"

Rhea smirks. "Nothing you need to worry about, Miss Nosey."

"You’re horrible at keeping secrets," I shoot back. "Spill it."

Skipper walks over, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Don’t you have some piano to practice? Maybe you should focus on that instead of eavesdropping."

I roll my eyes. "You’re impossible. Both of you."

Rhea just laughs, shooing Skipper back into the kitchen.

I cross my arms and lean back against the couch. "Fine. If you're not going to tell me what you two are up to, at least let me know what you two are doing today?"

Rhea shrugs, grabbing a coffee mug. "I have a writing lab this afternoon, but I’m meeting some friends for lunch before that. Need a distraction before I drown in prose and sentence construction for my creative writing class."

"Sounds like my composition and theory class, but not nearly as fun. Hey, did you finish your part of the chemistry lab report due next week?" I ask Rhea.

“Yes, Laura, all the graphs have been labeled with legendsand I have the headings of the paper centered. All it needs is your final touches. Do you want to submit?"

"Yeah, I'll finish up the discussion later and submit to Dr. Marsh."

Skipper grins, tossing an apple in the air, then catching it with an exaggerated flourish, letting it land on his shoulder before it glides down his arm where he pops it back into the air with his elbow, does a quick spin and catches the apple with his thumb and pinky. "And that, ladies, is why I should have been a magician instead of an airline steward."

I snort, shaking my head. "Yeah, because playing hacky sack with apples is really going to impress the passengers."

"Don't be jelly, Laurie Mae. Anywho, I’ve got work at the airport later training the new batch of hosts and hostesses. But before that, I’m helping Philip with some inventory at the café. You remember him from Halloween right? The guy that looks like Michael Phelps? Well, I couldn't say no to a working date now could I. Plus, I need to make sure we have enough coffee to fuel your constant state of anxiety, Laura."

I roll my eyes. "You’re both terrible. And rude. I remember Phillip, glad you two are getting along so well."

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