Intoxicated (19 page)

I closed my eyes, mentally preparing myself
for what I was going to say. He waited patiently as I composed
myself. I wondered how much I should tell him.

“Yes, Eric and I had a disagreement.”

“I thought so. Is that why he bought you
that?” He gestured to my necklace. “Which is beautiful, by the way.
Kind of like someone I know.”

I placed my hand over the pendant, rolling it
between my fingers. “No, he bought me this before it happened. And
a dress to match. And shoes.”

He nodded. “He seems the type to show his
affection by buying things.”

“Exactly. And that’s what we argued about.
Partially.”

“And what else?”

It was my turn to sigh. The way his eyes bore
into me, I knew that Matthew had his own suspicions. Was I going to
confirm them or could I find an easy way out? I chose the path of
least resistance, which was half-true, at least. No need to create
conflict. “Thanksgiving.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“Don’t lie, Lauren.”

His use of my given name startled me. He knew
what was really going on, well, most of it anyway. With that one
sentence, he had told me he knew I was attempting to protect
him.

“Eric complained about the drive-“

“Look,” he interrupted, and I immediately
shut up. “I know he’s not objecting to meeting Blake. It’s me
that’s the issue. You can’t tell me it’s not. He is worried about
his girlfriend hanging out with some guy who has a criminal record.
I can’t say that I blame him. Maybe he should be.”

“Matthew.”

“Let me finish. If he knew where you were
right now, he’d probably flip a lid, right? I know that you are
trying to help me, but it’s not worth wrecking your relationship
over. Don’t you get it? I’m not worth it.”

I sat in stunned silence, unsure if he was
done. When he made no move to say anything further, I took it to
mean it was my turn for rebuttal.

“First off,” I said with as much force as I
could muster, “I am a big girl who can make her own decisions. Eric
doesn’t tell me who I can and cannot spend time with. I am here
because I want to be, not because it will piss him off, which it
will. Secondly, our relationship had its fair share of issues long
before I even met you. If, in fact, we end up going our separate
ways, it will be due to a multitude of factors. Not just you. And
lastly and most importantly, you are worth it. I know you haven’t
had a lot of people stand up for you, and it is their loss. I am
sorry that your parents are idiots. But you can’t go through the
rest of your life assuming that everyone else is as closed-minded
as they are.”

“Your boyfriend seems to be pretty
closed-minded. Why bother doing this, Lauren, when we all know how
it will turn out?”

“Because maybe I’m being selfish and I just
want all of the people that I love to be in one room and at least
pretend to be civil to one another.”

The words came out in a rush, before I could
honestly think about what I was saying. One word in particular hung
in the air between us. I clasped my hands over my mouth, wishing
the cushions of the couch would swallow me whole.

“I don’t deserve anyone’s love, Lauren,” he
said sadly, “especially not yours.”

He stood up and walked to the large picture
window at the front of the house. He leaned against the windowsill,
staring out into the evening sky. The sun was setting now, and in
just a matter of minutes, everything would be dark. For now, there
were only shadows. It all seemed fitting somehow.

I remained on the sofa, every muscle in my
body rigid. I wanted nothing more in that moment than to curl up in
the fetal position and cry myself to sleep. My turmoil was twofold;
I hadn’t lied when I had thrown the word love around but I wasn’t
sure to what extent and he had rejected it anyway.

I watched him as he stood, frozen at the
window. He made no move to acknowledge my presence and I wondered
if he realized I was still there. Eventually, he would have to turn
around and take me back home. I couldn’t imagine how embarrassed I
would be if I had to call Blake to come pick me up. I decided to
take matters into my own hands.

“Here’s the thing,” I said as I sprung up
from my seat to join him, “you don’t get to decide how I feel.”

He turned to face me. If I didn’t know any
better, I would have sworn that his vision was clouded with unshed
tears. My lower lip trembled. I raised my hand to his face, my
fingers running along the length of his jaw.

“I don’t know why you hate yourself so much,”
I whispered. When he started to protest, I pressed my finger to his
lips and shook my head. “We can’t change the past, but we don’t
have to let it rule us. Do you think I wake up every morning with a
chip on my shoulder because my mom died? Do you think that most of
the people that I come into contact with even know that about
me?”

“Lauren, nobody’s going to hate you because
your mom died. You had nothing to do with that.”

“Really? Because I remember when I was in
school how it weirded people out. Kids didn’t know what to say. It
was awkward to have people come over to my house and ask where she
was. So I hid it from people. I didn’t lie about it; I just acted
like nothing was out of the ordinary and I didn’t mention it. It
became easier to just say I lived with my dad. Let them think that
my parents were divorced or something. That way people didn’t feel
sorry for me.”

“I suppose it would be ironic for me to tell
you that I’m sorry for what you had to go through.”

I smiled. “And then, one day, I decided that
I was being stupid. If people didn’t like me for that, then that
was their loss. I wasn’t shouting it from the rooftops, but when
people asked I told them the whole truth. And it made me feel
better. And you know what? Most people didn’t make a big deal out
of it. Sure, they would offer their condolences and we’d talk about
it a little, but we wouldn’t dwell on it.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with
me.”

“The moral of the story is that you can’t
dwell on your past, either. How do you expect anyone to ever see
you for who you really are if you are stuck in the dark ages? You
have put up this wall of self-loathing and pity and you wonder why
nobody can get past it. You won’t let them.”

“You got past it.”

“Only because I’m stubborn. You tried to push
me away, too. Just like everyone else. You walked out of that room
and left without an explanation. Hell, if Blake hadn’t been there
to explain what was going on, I’d still be trying to figure out
where you went.”

He snorted, a small smile flickering across
his features.

“Think about it. Excluding me, the only other
people that you are remotely close to are Blake and Chris. And they
lived through it with you. You can’t hide anything from them. And
they know you well enough to not label you for a couple of
mistakes. And you remind me of myself.”

I looked up into his eyes, studying his face.
“You will never be able to push me away. In this short time, you
have become one of my best friends in the entire world. And I will
never see you as just a newspaper article, or a tragedy, or a
statistic. You are so much more than that. You just have to show
people that. And one of these days, the right person will come
along for you and you will make her a very happy girl.”

My voice broke on the last sentiment, and I
had to turn away from him so he wouldn’t see me wipe away my tears.
Jealousy seized my stomach. How would I react when that very thing
happened? I wanted to believe that I would be happy for him. Yet a
nagging voice reminded me that if we had been in another place, at
another time, I would have chosen myself for him.

“Hey,” he said softly.

His arms reached for me. His hands grabbed my
shoulders, spinning me around and pulling me into his embrace. I
allowed him to hold me, the tension in my muscles relaxing slightly
at his touch. He rested his chin on the top of my head and hugged
me tighter. My cheek pressed against his chest, I could hear his
heartbeat, feel him breathing. I closed my eyes and let out a
ragged breath of my own.

“Why so sad?” he whispered, stroking my
hair.

I shrugged. There was no way in the world I
was about to tell him why. My mind reeled, trying to come up with a
logical explanation. “I just want you to be happy. You deserve
that.”

“Happy like you are?”

He lifted my cheek with his thumb, holding my
chin in place so that I stared up at him. His eyes were full of
doubt. He knew there was something I was hiding; he just wasn’t
going to press the issue. For that I was grateful. I had already
said too much.

Gently, he lowered my face to its previous
position. We stood silently, arms wrapped around each other,
watching as the last rays of sun disappeared on the horizon. After
darkness had officially fallen, we remained standing for quite some
time, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, he pulled away.

“I guess it’s time for you to go,” he said
reluctantly, “which leaves me with one question. Can you drive a
stick?”

“What?” I asked, clearly not following.

“Can you drive a stick shift?” He enunciated
each word carefully as if I was having trouble comprehending.
Actually, I was thankful for the help; I needed a moment to be able
to form complete sentences.

“It’s been a while. But yes.”

He produced his car keys from his jeans
pocket and dangled them in front of me. When I didn’t take the
bait, he lifted my hand, placed my palm upward, and dropped them
in. My fingers reflexively wrapped around them.

“Then you’re driving.”

“What?”

He had already walked past me towards the
garage. My short legs hustled to keep up with him, my steps two to
his one.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you eying my
car. In fact, I think it may be the only reason you’re nice to me.”
He turned back to me, a huge grin on his face. I blushed.
“See?”

He held the driver’s side door of the Mustang
open for me. I climbed in and he closed the door behind me. As he
made his way around to the passenger side, I got to work
positioning the seat and the mirrors. He would have some major
adjustments to do when he resumed driving; there was nearly a foot
and a half of height difference between the two of us. Once I felt
as though I was sitting in the front seat of the car as opposed to
the back seat, I started the ignition. The engine somehow sounded
even more powerful when I was in control.

I reversed out of the garage and pulled the
car around the circular driveway without incident. However, on my
attempt to pull out onto the road, I killed the engine. Sheepishly,
I looked over to the passenger seat, expecting him to yell at me.
Instead, he stifled a laugh.

“Sorry,” I said as I started the car back up,
“I guess I am a little rusty.”

“No worries,” he said, sounding like he
really meant it.

“I wonder if you’ll be saying that when I
burn up your clutch.”

“I seriously doubt that will happen. It’s
like riding a bike.”

“I can’t ride a bike.”

“Shit.”

I laughed and pulled out onto the road. It
was true. Once I got the nervousness out of my system, I shifted
gears effortlessly. It was actually pretty fun. After a couple
minutes, I felt confident enough to even carry on a
conversation.

“So, I think this will end up being an
excellent Thanksgiving,” I began, “Blake was right. Your house is
excellent for entertaining.”

“I can’t believe she said something that
nice. And thanks. I hope it will be everything you want it to. You
know, you deserve to be happy, too.”

“I know you’re nervous about everything, but
it will be okay. My dad is like the sweetest person you’ll ever
meet. And Gracie’s one of my best friends. She reminds me of Blake
in a lot of ways, so there will be no problem with her. I’ll just
have to make sure Eric is on his best behavior. You know, give him
a little ‘don’t be an asshole’ pep talk or something.”

“It’s hard to stop something that comes so
naturally.”

“Matthew,” I scolded, playfully swatting him
on the arm, “he’s had a hard time coping with this whole promotion
thing. Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“Okay, okay, sorry. Maybe my judgment has
been a little skewed by recent events. But don’t expect us to
become best friends anytime soon.”

“Fair enough. He rubs people the wrong way
sometimes. He and Gracie are like mortal enemies. They won’t even
ride up together. Gracie and my dad are taking his car and Eric’s
driving separate. That, and I’m sure he would protest on riding in
anything other than his BMW.”

“I like Gracie already. And I’m not a fan of
BMWs. Too prissy for my taste.”

I snorted. “He actually bought an extra
parking spot at his condo so that no one will park next to it. He
claims it’s for me when I visit, but I know better.”

“Really?”

“You can’t make this stuff up.”

“So, if you could have any car you
wanted-besides your Honda-what would you get?”

“Right now, I’m starting to really see the
merit in Mustangs,” I laughed. “But if you’re asking me if I would
go the BMW route, I would have to say no. My experience with one
has been from the passenger seat only, but they’re not for me.”

“He’s never let you drive it?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think he would
allow anyone to drive it. He practically freaks out if we go
somewhere with valet parking.”

“Silly.”

“Agreed. I mean, it’s a nice car, but it’s
not wrapped in gold or anything. It kind of makes me wish someone
would swing open their door on it in a parking lot somewhere. Give
him a nice door ding.”

“Don’t give me any ideas. I’ve got my
contacts. And, in just a few short days, that car is going to be in
my driveway.”