Intoxicated

Moving in slow motion

But faster than the speed of sound

I wonder if you’ll still notice me

When I am not around

“So you are really going ahead with the
roommate thing?” Matthew’s voice crackled over the telephone.

Blake wasn’t sure if her brother’s words were
garbled due to her faulty cell reception or if they were laced with
emotion. She had, of course, announced with a flourish
approximately six months ago that it had been the appropriate time
in her life to purchase her own place. Up until then, they had been
roommates themselves. But her wildly independent streak as well as
a buyer’s market had persuaded her to take the leap into
homeownership. That and the fact that Matthew was still best
friends with her ex.

She just never expected to feel so alone.

“Yes, I guess I am,” she replied as she paced
her floor.

“And you’re sure about this?” he pressed.

Blake sighed. No, not really. But posting a
room for rent online and actually having someone sign a lease for
it were two entirely different things. So what if someone was
coming to look at the place tomorrow morning? If things didn’t feel
right, she could always lie and say that she had been fielding a
lot of calls and that, unfortunately, she had chosen someone
else.

“You’re not having money problems, are you?”
he continued.

“No,” she responded quickly. Now that had
upset her a little bit.

“Just be careful.” Matthew warned.

Despite herself, Blake chuckled. If anyone
should be giving that advice, it should be the other way around.
Matthew’s indiscretions had been the whole reason that they
themselves had been roommates. Although it had been a terrible,
uncomfortable time in both their lives, it had been the beginning
of their beautiful friendship. There was no one else that she
trusted as wholly and completely as her brother. Their past had
forced them to lean on each other in a way she never would have
imagined when she was younger, and they had ended up on the other
side as better people for it.

Matthew either chose to ignore the giggle or
he found the irony in the situation. There was silence on the other
end of the line until Blake whispered her response.

“Always am.”

“Don’t worry, Lauren,” Gracie said, “he’ll
come around.”

I twirled my straw in my Coke and stared
blankly as the ice cubes hit the sides of my glass. I hoped her
words were true. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gracie rise
from the booth. My gaze followed her as she stood. Apparently, the
pep talk was over.

“And for goodness sakes, enjoy your
party.”

Or not.

She latched on to my shoulder as she brushed
past, partly in support of my situation, mostly in support of her
own body weight. She teetered unsteadily on her platform boots and
let out what could be best described as an intoxicated giggle. I
watched as she made her way to the restroom toward the back of the
restaurant, stifling a laugh of my own as she attempted to open the
ladies’ room door by pushing rather than pulling.

Ah, yes, this was my party.

I glanced around at the large booth our group
occupied. The familiar faces of coworkers surrounded me. There had
been a good turnout; by my count, twenty people had at least
stopped in to say goodbye. Ten of those twenty still remained, even
now, two hours after the official meeting time.

Invariably when someone decided to leave the
bank, another employee would take it upon themselves to organize a
get-together, usually held at the Mexican restaurant a mile down
the road from our branch. For some, it was a good excuse to gorge
on chips, salsa and margaritas. For others, it was truly an
opportunity to celebrate the guest of honor’s new job or retirement
and to say farewell. Whatever the case that brought all these
people here, to think they were gathered because of me was
surreal.

Neither one of the usual scenarios pertained
to me. At twenty-six, I wasn’t anywhere close to retirement, at
least not without a winning lottery ticket in hand. And I wasn’t
quitting. I had garnered a promotion.

I started at the bank right out of college.
Armed with my shiny new accounting degree, I had landed a position
at the local branch underwriting mortgage loans. My attention to
detail – some would call it anal-retentiveness – got me noticed by
our corporate office. After five years of employment there, I had
been offered the job.

Director of Underwriting, Mortgage
Lending.

The title alone had a nice ring to it. The
thought of actually having a staff at my beck and call was
enticing. The increase in salary was definitely attractive. The
location, not so much. Corporate was about two hours north of here,
and I would have to relocate. That was really the only thing that
had given me pause.

Being considerate of the circumstances, my
current boss had instructed me to take a couple days to think it
over, pray about it, do whatever I needed to do. In my heart of
hearts, I had known what my answer would be, but I was still
relieved that I had a moment to mull things over. That night, I had
made two phone calls.

My father had been ecstatic.

Eric, well, things had not gone so swimmingly
with him.

Gracie staggered back to the table. She fell
onto the seat of the booth, the cushion protesting with a squeak
beneath her. This was apparently the funniest thing that had ever
happened to her. Her convulsive laughter brought all other
conversation at the table to a halt.

“Maybe time for someone to go home?” Mary
from Consumer Loans suggested.

“I’m on it.” I set down my Coke and went to
grab my purse. “Come on, Gracie, let’s get you to bed.”

“Oh, Lauren,” Stacy, the receptionist,
protested, “it’s not fair that you have to leave your own party
early. One of us can drive her home.”

“But it’s tradition,” Mary chimed in, “Gracie
always drinks too much, and Lauren is her designated driver.”

“Oh, no,” Stacy snorted, “did they include
that in the job description for your replacement?”

Gracie still had enough sobriety left in her
to shoot both Mary and Stacy a dirty look. “Shut up.”

I stood to go and Gracie followed suit. She
was pretty wobbly. She leaned against the wall as I said my
goodbyes, thanking each person for coming and accepting their well
wishes. As I made the rounds, my eyes welled up with tears.

This was really happening. Come Monday
morning, the rest of the people at this table would go back to work
like they always did. My desk would be sitting empty. No manila
file folders stacked up on the desktop, their contents spilling
over onto my keyboard.

Pushing the melodramatic to the far recesses
of my brain, I took Gracie’s arm and escorted her out of the
restaurant. Considering that she towered over me, especially in
those shoes, this was no small feat.

The cool evening air greeted us as we spilled
out onto the sidewalk. We continued across the parking lot to my
awaiting car. I unlocked Gracie’s door first and helped her inside.
As I rounded the car and unlocked my own door, I realized that it
was as if we were on some sort of a strange date. I was being
rather chivalrous.

“I’m not tired, Lauren,” Gracie whined as I
assumed the driver’s seat. “I don’t want to go to bed yet. I want
to help you with your problems.”

“Oh, Gracie,” I laughed, “I might be beyond
help at this point.”

We drove in an easy silence back to her
apartment. I pulled my car into the carport beside her sedan and
shut off the ignition. She made no move to get out of my car. Upon
closer inspection, I realized that her eyes were closed.

“Gracie?”

She jumped. “I’m awake, I promise. You want
to come up?”

I checked my cell phone before answering. It
was only nine. “Sure, why not?”

The short nap had done Gracie wonders. That
coupled with a fresh pot of coffee might actually transform her
into a worthy confidant. With renewed energy, she exited the car. I
followed behind her, realizing as I threw my purse over my shoulder
that my cell phone remained in the center console. Briefly, I
considered running back to get it, but decided not to. No one would
be calling me at this hour. I had just spoken with my dad prior to
the party, I was with my best friend right now and Eric was on some
sort of random business trip in some location I was sure he had
mentioned at some point during chewing me out.

Gracie kicked off her boots as soon as she
made it through the threshold. She set her housekeys on the table
beside the door with a loud clunk, then landed on the couch with a
flourish. I continued on to the kitchen to make said coffee. Moving
around the small space as if it was my own, I set to work opening
cabinets and grabbing mugs.

As the coffee brewed, I leaned over the
breakfast bar. From here, I could view the entire apartment.
Gracie’s bedroom was at the end of the hall, right next to the
bathroom. The place itself was bland, walls covered in typical
renter’s off white. Even though the whole of the place was no more
than five or six hundred square feet, it seemed cavernous in
comparison with my studio apartment. What made it feel like home
were the small finishing touches Gracie had managed to add with her
meager bank teller’s wage.

One of those finishing touches, a throw
pillow in the shape of a question mark, whizzed past my head.

“Penny for your thoughts.”

I poured the now finished coffee into the
mugs and carried them over to the sofa, where I sat down next to
her. She took the mug that I offered, closing her eyes as she
tasted the first sip.

I sighed, not sure where to begin.

“He’s probably just upset because I am
leaving town.”

For the majority of our relationship Eric and
I had been, in one way or another, apart. We began dating when we
were both sixteen. When it had been time to go to college, we had
settled on different universities. This led to lots of long
distance phone calls, internet chatting and romantic reunions
during breaks. After graduation, instead of finally being in the
same place at the same time, he had gotten scooped up by a life
insurance carrier to be their sales rep. Even though he was
stationed out of their Indianapolis office, the majority of the
time he wasn’t anywhere nearby.

It had been a complete shock when he
expressed his distaste at my promotion.

“That’s bull and you know it.” Gracie set
down her coffee cup on the table in front of us. She tucked an
errant strand of black hair behind her ear and stared at me. “He
feels threatened.”

Threatened? Maybe, just maybe, he was.

There were four missed calls and three voice
mails on my cell when I returned to the car after midnight. I
didn’t need to guess who they were from. I closed my eyes
momentarily, attempting to give myself the strength to deal with
him. Knowing resistance was futile, I pressed the speed dial button
before listening to any of the messages.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” Eric said in
lieu of a greeting.

“I’m sorry.”

The apology slipped out of my mouth before I
had a chance to stop it. More of a trained response, learned from
ten years’ experience. Honestly, I wasn’t sorry.

“Where are you?” he asked, his voice
softening.

“Just leaving Gracie’s place. What hotel are
you at?”

“It’s a small place. Relatively local. You
might say the atmosphere leaves a little to be desired. Lots of
moving boxes at the moment.”

“You’re at my place?”

My anger melted away at the thought of him
lounged on my couch, his feet propped on the coffee table. He
rarely came to my place. Granted, it was tiny and not in the best
neighborhood, but it was my home. He must have been overcome with
guilt to make the trek from his downtown high rise.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll be home in fifteen.”

“See you then.”