Page 52 of The Perils of Pretending
It’s nine-thirty at night, yet the sun is shining bright enough through the curtains that we don’t need a light on to see in the room. It’s hard to get used to. I keep thinking it should be earlier in the day than itactually is. “Is that a new development since living in Utah or did you have blackout curtains growing up?”
“Blackout curtains are a must in Alaska.”
“How much light did you get in the winter?” I get seasonal depression in Utah in January and February. I can’t even imagine how bad I’d be if I were in Alaska.
“Six hours.”
I knew it wasn’t a lot, but only six? My visits will remain limited to summer. “How did you survive it?”
“We took vitamin D and had a light therapy lamp in every room to mimic daylight.”
My stomach cramps and this time if I don’t get to the bathroom as soon as possible, there will be no coming back from the humiliation of Max seeing me in this condition. I don’t say anything as I run out the bedroom door and dash into the restroom.
The porcelain king and I spend way too much quality time together.
My stomach aches, my head hurts, and I’m ridiculously tired two hours later when it feels safe enough to try to get some sleep.
Creeping into our bedroom, I pray Max is out cold.
Tiptoeing through the room, I quietly pull the blankets back, and slide into my bottom bunk. Settling on my left side, I watch Max across from me in his bed to see if he stirs.
He doesn’t.
I let out a sigh of relief. With how long it took to flush out my system, I can’t imagine the amount of potty jokes Max would come up with. With any luck, he’ll forget about it by morning.
Chapter 20
Max
Ithrowthepillowoff my face, resigning myself to get up, unable to sleep with the sounds emanating from Sadie’s mouth. It’s a honk mixed with a wheeze. I recorded her for a minute to use as blackmail at some point. If I have any hope of getting rest while I’m here, I’m going to have to fall asleep before her every night. Unless she’s snoring out of pure exhaustion.
I’m not sure what time she came to bed last night, but from the sounds coming from the bathroom, I debated multiple times if I should check on her. Women get weird about bodily functions though, so I chose to stay in our room. She has to be dehydrated. I take a quick shower and go to the kitchen on the main floor of our cabin and get Sadie a glass of water for when she wakes up.
Breakfast isn’t for another hour and I don’t have the heart to wake up Sadie despite how tired I am because of her. Quietly, I set the glass on the nightstand between the two bunk beds with a note that says:
Sadie,
Hope you’re feeling better this morning. Drink up!
—Max
I get my hiking shoes and jacket and back out of the room like Sadie’s a bomb about to go off if I make too much noise. Once outside, I walk along the rocky shore. A longing for this to be my home again aches in my chest. I don’t miss winters here, but spring through fall was full of being outside soaking in nature and enjoying adventures. When peopleask me where I’m from, I always say Alaska instead of Utah, where I’ve lived the past fourteen years. Man, thinking that makes me feel old.
I wouldn’t mind my kids growing up here like I did. Maybe it’s time to try something new. To move home. But it’s so expensive. And I don’t like the winter. Visits will have to suffice.
“Max!”
I spin, looking at who called my name.
Brody jogs toward me. “Hey. Mind if I join you?”
“Please.” Get me out of my head.
We keep walking along the shore.
“I didn’t want to talk in front of my mom. But tell me about what happened yesterday with Dorian.”
The same boiling rage from yesterday floods my body, my pulse elevating. I tell him how panicked I was when Sadie called. Who targets a woman in the bathroom?
