Page 3 of Body Checking
“Am I dead?” A croaky voice asks.“No, but you’re going to wish you were once you stand up,” I reply, my voice equally as harsh.
I hear a loud thump and turn my head to see Sasha on the floor face down. She moves to her hands and knees and begins crawling.
“What the hell are you doing, Sash?”
“I need to pee but I don’t think I can stand up.” She slowly shuffles out of the living room and into the small powder room.
My bladder begins screaming at me that I too need to empty it, and I carefully stand, staying hunched over and my eyes down for fear of getting dizzy. I contemplate going upstairs to my room for a minute, but the image of me tumbling down the stairs with piss running down my legs has me waiting for Sasha to finish.
The door flies open and she braces onto the wall. “I’m going to murder Beryl. My insides feel like they’ve been fermenting in a tub of ammonia and vinegar, and my skin does not look refreshed and youthful from all theantioxidants.”
She stumbles out of the bathroom, holding onto the wall as she goes. I slowly move into the bathroom and take a look in the mirror.
I yelp when I see my reflection. My bun is hanging off the side of my head by my ear, my mascara that I forgot to take off is smudged across my face including my forehead, and my eyes are bloodshot.
I lower myself to the toilet and hang my head in agony and regret. The room still spins and I focus on steady breaths so I don’t have to turn this caboose around.
I walk out into the hallway like Frankenstein, stiff arms and legs and barely alive.
“Why did we do that?” Sasha moans.
“It was your genius idea. I just wanted to cry into a bowl of ice cream,” I remind her, and she gives me a look that saysnot now.
“Did Walker ever text you?”
I look around for my phone and see it lying face down on the end table and reach for it. I turn it around and see it light up like a Christmas tree with a flurry of text messages. I unlock my phone and begin reading the first to come through from Walker at nine o’clock. Two hours past our date and a quarter of the moonshine in.
Walker:Maren, I’m sorry about tonight. Can we get together to talk?
Me:Why? So you can tell me it’s not going to work out? That it’s you, not me? No thank you Walker. I’ll take this as our official breakup.
Walker:You had to have known this was coming. We’ve been drifting apart for the past few weeks.
Me:WE’VE ONLY BEEN TOGETHER FOR THREE MONTHS! That would be half of our relationship. You know what? Just lose my number and don’t contact me again. I got the point pretty loud and clear when you didn’t show up or even bother calling me to let me know you weren't coming before I sat there by myself for thirty minutes.
There’s no response from him, but the next message is from me at ten-thirty, which means the moonshine was about three-fourths gone.
Me: You know what? I’m too good for you. You never treated me like a man should treat his girlfriend. But that’s okay. I’m better off without you. Good riddance.
Me five minutes later.
Me:I’m gonna marrrrry Cade Hamiln one day. I wonder why he’s called the Hammer. I bet he has a big > That’ll be noice. I could use a bid duck. You have a pencil duck. IIt’s like you were trying to write your name in my vagiina. You should think about getting some help for that before you disappoint another woman, Good luck to you Wlaker.
“Oh my God,” I groan and smack my hand on my face.“What? What happened?” Sasha jumps from her spot on the couch and immediately grabs her head like she’s trying to hold onto it before it falls to the ground.
“Look at the texts I sent Walker.” I hand her the phone and her eyes fly over the screen.
They grow larger and larger with each word she reads, and I can feel the blood rushing from my head to my toes.
She snorts and says, “Pencil duck” then finishes reading. “Did you read all of his responses?”
I shake my head. “No. I don’t want to know what he said. I’m embarrassed enough. I don’t need to feel badabout myself, too.” I drop my body to the couch and bounce. “I hope I didn’t do anything else stupid while I was riding high off of antioxidants and alcohol.”
Sasha’s phone pings and she sets mine down to look at hers. I watch her face pale —which is a stretch considering she’s already so fair skinned— and she begins chewing on her lip.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it was stupid, but definitely not our smartest moment.”
She turns the phone to face me and when I see what is on her screen, I feel like crawling into a hole to die.
