Page 78 of The Boyfriend List
I’ve never turned to drinking to fix my problems. I drink as a social lubricant, when there are things to celebrate.
Right now, though, I can’t think of any reason to drink except to mourn.
Halfway through the bottle, my throat on fire, I lie on an abandoned chaise lounge in a dark, shadowy corridor of the hotel. No one has come by to disturb me. Not that anything could disturb me more than what’s happened today.
Footsteps echo down the hall just as I’ve finished the thought. I set down the bottle carefully next to me. As I look up, I realize the wine didn’t numb the agony in my chest one bit.
It hits me afresh as I look Gloria in the eyes. Then my gaze darts away. I’m not worthy of looking her in the eyes. I’m not even worthy of the concern I read in her expression, her furrowed brows and pursed lips.
“London?” Her heels click to a stop next to me, and she stays a few feet from me. As if I’m an injured animal with its foot caught in a trap, prone to lashing out unpredictably.
“How did you find me?” My voice sounds hoarse to my own ears. Probably from the wine. I touch my cheek, feeling something sticky, and realizing it’s the salt of my tears. Maybe I’m hoarse from crying.
“The bartender told me he saw you leave, and I’ve been looking ever since,” she says. “Are you… I mean…”
She trails off. Lawyers aren’t often speechless, which makes me marvel at how messed-up this situation is that it renders her wordless.
“I’m sorry.” I stand up, trying not to look as unsteady as I feel. “I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Her voice is sharper than I expected it to be, like my apology is a slap across the face.
“I abandoned you there. I left you alone. With…them.” I can’t bring myself to say the words ‘my family.’ They feel like a slur. Something ugly and vulgar. “I’m sorry I brought you here. I shouldn’t have asked you to come.”
I grab onto the arm of the chaise to keep from falling over.
“You don’t have to stay. You can go home if you want. I know you’re tired… and this isn’t the romantic night I hoped we would have…”
“London, I’m not leaving you.” Her tone is sharper still, the edge of a blade peeling back all my lies and excuses and defenses. Until I have nothing left to hide behind.
“You should.” My voice seems to bounce off the walls and slam back against me. Against her. She flinches, her shoulders curling in. “I’m not worth it.”
“You’re drunk.” She doesn’t say it with disgust like I’d expect her to. “Let me help you get home. You’ll feel better in the morning.”
“Please don’t pretend this is just something I can sleep off like a hangover.” I pick up the bottle again, when all I want is to reach for her.
But I can’t. I’ll taint her. Weigh her down with my baggage and my burdens. She doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to live life free and unencumbered and happy.
Not with me.
“I’m not saying that. You’re not thinking clearly right now, and you’re definitely in no state to drive.” She frowns at me.
Screw it. I take another swig of wine, before putting it down again as the acrid taste sears my mouth. “My parents will get a divorce whether I drive or not.”
“London, please… you’re scaring me.” The faint tremble of her lips and the waver in her voice stops me dead in my tracks.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, because it’s all I know how to say. “I’m not driving tonight. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says. She looks so small standing in front of me, despite her three-inch heels. So vulnerable. So trusting. So fragile. “Then let me get my car from the valet. I’ll take you home.”
Home. Where is that? Is that where you have a mom and dad who love each other? Siblings who bicker, but at the end of the day, still care about and support one another? A sense of peace and belonging? Hugs and kisses overscraped knees and parents who dry your tears? Where everyone pitches in to help each other out, and no one complains about each other’s bad habits and quirks, except in good fun?
Whereverhomeis, I was never given a map to get there.
The weight of the day crashes down on me, and I lean back further on the chaise lounge. Tilting my head back, I stare up at Gloria, hoping she’ll sit next to me. To be with me, when no one else is. To be with me, even when I don’t want to be with myself.
She does, wrapping her arm around my waist and resting her head on my shoulder. As if she needs my comfort.
Maybe she does. Maybe seeing my family today was too much for her. I’ve been selfish, thinking only of my own hurt. I’ve discarded any thought for how my parents and siblings must feel. How Gloria must feel, since she knows no one here but me.
