She couldn’t risk upsetting the balance of things, though. If she didn’t have a good reason for missing Thanksgiving, G.K. would throw a tantrum that could go one of two ways, neither of them good. Either Marci would be an ungrateful and horrible daughter or G.K. would take on the role of Concerned And Attentive Parent . G.K.’s attempts at being attentive were always disastrous.
The last time that happened was when Marci was in undergrad at NYU and grieving the loss of her asshole college boyfriend hard. G.K had taken a temporary position at a teaching hospital in New York to be closer to her daughter and had only made things worse. G.K.’s solution to all problems in life was rather drill-sergeant-quit-your-whining-and-snap-out-of-it like. Whenever G.K. wasn’t busy instructing Marci to get over herself, she’d been demanding that Marci admire her skills from the theater in the operating room at the hospital. G.K. never missed an opportunity to try and mold Marci to be another her. Better to keep G.K. at arm’s length. Better to pretend.
“I have to hatch a scheme that makes going home for Thanksgiving impossible. Gotta come up with something good. I’ve been preoccupied with that is all,” Marci said.
“Okay,” Ronnie said.
“What? What’s that tone you’re using?”
“Oh, I don’t believe you is all,” Ronnie said. “You’re too used to your mom to allow her antics to bother you all that much.”
“And what do you think’s going on if you know so much?”
“I think there’s more to this Owen situation than you’re willing to admit.”
“You tell me yours, and I’ll tell you mine,” Marci said.
“Huh?” Ronnie looked caught off-guard.
“Tell me what’s been up with you lately, and maybe we’ll talk about what’s going on with me,” Marci said. “We never did finish our conversation at Sadie’s place that one night.”
Ronnie tapped her fingers against her thighs and looked down at them. She’d painted her nails a bright purple color recently. “It’s just…sometimes, people need more help than you know how to give them.”
“Are we talking about Jeremy here?” Marci asked gently.
Ronnie’s head snapped up, and her closed off expression informed Marci that she’d said the exact wrong thing. “You would jump to that conclusion, wouldn’t you?”
“Ronnie, I only want to help.”
“Yeah, well, when you stop being so judgmental of people you don’t even know, maybe I’ll start to believe that.” Ronnie pushed herself away from the desk.
“Ronnie, wait. I’m sorry.”
But Ronnie left the room and closed the door after her. Marci sat back in her desk chair and twisted her dad’s class ring around on her gold necklace. Was she really being too judgmental? Again, that creeping, sinking feeling that she was slowly becoming the person she’d vowed never to be anything like crept over her. Maybe she was more like Glenda King than she would ever care to admit.
Chapter Fourteen
Halloween was one of Marci’s favorite holidays. What wasn’t to like? It wasn’t a holiday that required spending quality time with family, it involved partying and general debauchery, and it involved dressing up. Marci had been happily getting ready for the party she, Tyler, and Ronnie were attending until Ronnie dropped the bomb. Ronnie—purposefully, no doubt—informed Marci at the last minute that Jeremy would be coming with them.
So, the four of them walked into the party at Tyler’s co-worker’s house that night. For a day job, Tyler was a dietician at a gym, and the host of the party was a personal trainer at that gym. Marci dressed as a sexy nurse, Ronnie was a Jersey Shore girl—Marci had never watched the show and had no clue which one Ronnie was even though Ronnie had told her twice because Marci let the information go in one ear and out the other. All Marci knew was that Ronnie had on a wig of long black hair that was loosely curled, her eyelashes and eye makeup were out of control, and she’d gone a little overboard on the spray tan. Tyler dressed in drag as Lady Gaga, and Jeremy dressed as a guido to Ronnie’s Jersey Shore girl. Jeremy had died his sandy blond hair black and dumped a about a ton of gel into it. His green eyes were hidden behind a pair of shades. They kept insisting they weren’t a couple, but here they were doing couples Halloween outfits.
Ronnie said she had no interest in Jeremy—that he was just a “sweet kid.” Yeah, okay. A “sweet kid” who drank like a fish and had a nasty little aversion to gainful employment. Ronnie insisted Marci would like him if she got to know him better. Marci both doubted that was true and had no desire to get to know him better. She had no respect for people who refused to take responsibility for themselves. That was one of the few good traits she’d inherited from Glenda King.
Marci knew she was too old to be participating in case races, but Tyler talked her into it. She and Tyler were on one team, and Ronnie and Jeremy ended up on the other. Between the two teams was a table that held two cases of beer, one for each side. The winning team would be the one to finish their case of beer first. And they were playing five against four. That was way-too-many-beers per person for Marci who was not a fan.
“This is going to be a disaster,” Marci muttered to Tyler.
“God forbid you actually enjoy yourself, Marci.” Tyler put a hand over his chest and sucked in a noisy gasp of feigned surprise. “C’mon. Halloween’s your favorite.”
“Look at him,” Marci murmured, nodding subtly across the table in Jeremy’s direction. “He’s already halfway to oblivion.”
“He’ll be fine,” Tyler said. “If we lose because of you, however, you won’t. We’re already a man down.” Their team had one less player than the other team. “Now get ready. We’re about to start.”
“I hate beer.”
“I love you for being such a good sport.”
Marci laughed and eyed the can of natty light in front of her. Somebody counted them down. Tyler popped the top on a beer and held it up. Marci popped one and clanked her can against Tyler’s. Making a final grimace, she chugged so that she could get the beer taste over with.
Much later that night, Tyler and Marci danced near Ronnie and Jeremy. It looked at first glance like Ronnie was grinding on Jeremy. When you looked closer, you realized that it was more like Ronnie was trying to hold up a nearly unconscious Jeremy. He could barely keep his eyes open halfway, but he still held a plastic, black Solo cup firmly fastened in his fist.
“What’s that kid’s deal?” Marci asked, glowering at Jeremy.
“He’s just young.” Tyler shrugged. “He’s a good guy. Give him a chance—a few years—and he’ll figure it all out.”
“Sometimes, I think you and Ronnie are too optimistic,” Marci said.
“And often, dear, I think you are not optimistic enough.” Tyler spun her out and then spun her in close. “Loosen up. I can’t remember seeing a drink in your hand recently.”
“Somebody has to drive us home.” Marci hadn’t drunk since the case race. And she hadn’t been the greatest help to her team. After the third beer, there was no way she could choke down even one more sip of beer. She’d spent the rest of the competition cheering on her team. Despite her meager contribution, they’d won. Jeremy had given them some real competition, though. The rest of his team—Ronnie included—hadn’t been much help to him.
“We could take a cab.” Tyler frowned. “I hate seeing you in this little funk. You always so look forward to Halloween.”
“I didn’t know Ronnie’s little moocher-friend was coming along.”
“Don’t try to blame it all on Jeremy. You’ve been in a foul mood lately in general.”
“You and Ronnie been talking? ‘Cause you sound just like her.”
“Anybody with half an eye can see you have been rank in attitude lately.” Tyler fluffed his outrageous blonde wig and readjusted the top on his faux meat dress. “I hate to see you so unhappy.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just—school. It should get better soon. In a few weeks when things will slow down a little.”
/> “I hope so.”
“What are your Thanksgiving plans?” Marci asked.
“Not sure yet. Why?” Tyler asked.
“I was thinking maybe a group of us could go out to the condo in Aspen. Or out to Lake Tahoe.”
“We wouldn’t be trying to avoid our new daddy, would we?”
“Gross, don’t call him that.”
Tyler snickered in response.
“That man is young enough to be my brother. And to your question, kind of. Maybe.”
Tyler laughed, but before he could reply, there was a crash and a scream. The music stopped, and Marci looked over in time to see Jeremy slump from the makeshift D.J. table in the front of the living room to the floor. Computer equipment scattered all over the place, and the D.J. did not look happy at all. Ronnie bent over Jeremy and screamed at everyone to give him some room.
Marci ran over, trailed by Tyler. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Ronnie said shrilly. She bent over Jeremy and slapped his cheek several times, but he didn’t respond.
“Everybody stand back,” Marci said. “Give him some room.” She and Tyler got the crowd to take a few steps back, widening the circle around Ronnie and Jeremy. “Turn him on his side so if he vomits he won’t swallow it,” Marci told Ronnie. Pulling her cell phone from her clutch, Marci dialed 911.
#
At the hospital, they must have been a sight. Marci in a white mini dress and the very cute white heels she’d use Halloween as an excuse to purchase with a white nurse’s cap perched on top of her head, Ronnie in a tight, low-cut tank top and black miniskirt, and Tyler in his dress made of plastic meat. Marci and Tyler sat in the E.R. waiting room while Ronnie paced in front of them, refusing to be comforted or held in one spot or even to carry on a conversation with anybody but herself.
“I told him to slow down, to pace himself, but he just kept pounding beers. And then he started in on the shots. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion I swear. There was nothing I could do to stop him. There was nothing, right?” Ronnie looked up in Marci’s direction.
Marci started to respond, but before she could, Ronnie was back to pacing and blaming herself. Marci stood and tried to put an arm around Ronnie. Ronnie backed away and shook her head. “This is my fault. I can’t stay here. I gotta see him. I gotta try again. I gotta do something.” Ronnie went toward the nurse’s station yet again even though she was courting disappointment. They’d turn her away the way they had several times already because she wasn’t family or in any other way approved to know medical information about Jeremy.
Marci was about to follow her when the last person she expected to see hobbled through the sliding doors at the rear entrance of the emergency room on one crutch. He was dressed as a pirate, and the black guy she’d seen with him at The Hops stood just behind him dressed as Morpheus from The Matrix.
“Owen?” Marci murmured, confused. Owen didn’t notice her at all. He made a beeline for the nurse’s station. Marci moved closer, intending to try and calm Ronnie down when the nurse refused her request again. Owen reached the desk at the same time as she did but didn’t notice her.
“My brother’s here.” Owen ran his fingers through wavy hair he’d dyed or otherwise colored black. A streak of black—from whatever was in his hair probably—ran down the side of his face. “Jeremy Matthis. Where is he? Is he okay?” Owen proceeded to fire a battery of questions at the nurse behind the desk.
Marci stared at the back of Owen’s head, sort of stunned at all she’d just learned, as the nurse said something to Owen. An orderly came from behind the desk and led Owen down the hall and away from her.
The black guy dressed as Morpheus turned to Marci. “Marci, right?” He was a pretty good Morpheus except for the addition of his black-framed glasses and the fact that he was smaller in stature than Laurence Fishburne.
“Yeah,” Marci said slowly, not quite sure how the guy knew her.
“Oh. Sorry. I’m not a stalker. I promise. Owen talks about you so much that I feel like I know you. I’m Dante. His roommate.” Dante held out a hand.
Marci knew there were other things she should take away from that sentence, but the only thing she could take away was that Owen talked about her a lot. She didn’t want that to matter to her, to send a feeling of relief from the top of her spine to the tip of her toes, but it did and it did. Marci shook his hand and gave Morpheus-Dante a shaky smile. “Nice to meet you, Dante.” She then busied herself with introducing Dante to Ronnie and Tyler while trying to beat back the thought that kept flashing through her mind like the beacon of a lighthouse cutting through the darkness of a bay on a moonless night: Owen talks about me. A lot.
When Owen emerged from the back of the E.R., Dante waved him over to where their group sat. Marci’s traitorous heart banged around in her chest as Owen limped over and took the seat next to hers. She hadn’t allowed herself the luxury of a crush in a very long time. She had to admit, the adrenaline-anxiety rush of this feeling was kind of pleasant. She ignored the nagging voice at the back of her mind that insisted she wasn’t allowing anything. That voice tried to tell her she wasn’t letting this happen, that this was happening whether she liked it or not.
“How is he?” Dante asked.
Owen put a hand on his forehead and rubbed his index finger and thumb out to his temples before drawing them back and pinching them together in the middle of his forehead. “They pumped his stomach. They’re giving him fluids now. He’s going to be fine.” Owen took a deep breath before muttering in a barely audible tone the others might not have caught, “Idiot.” Marci was pretty sure she’d only heard it because she was sitting so close to him. So close.
“I’m going to get us coffee.” Dante stood and patted Owen’s shoulder.
“We’ll go with you.” Ronnie-Jersey-Shore and Tyler-Gaga jumped up simultaneously. Marci gave them warning looks, and they shot meaningful ones back at her.
“Okay,” Dante said, seeming startled at their enthusiasm over a coffee run—and rightly so. He didn’t know her meddling friends like she did. After the three of them walked away, Owen looked over at Marci and gave her a tired smile. Even though he was clearly exhausted, a shadow of stubble was creeping over his face, and he had a few more smudges of black paint on his face now, he was still gorgeous.
“So Jeremy’s your brother?” Marci asked. Of course. Jeremy was a spendthrift mooching loser, but that didn’t take away from his attractiveness. In fact, it probably made those other things easier for him. Were there no bad genes in the entire family? No homely Matthis brothers? Were their parents both supermodels?
Owen nodded and sat back in his chair. Steepling his fingers together, he stared across the waiting room.
“Jeremy mentioned having a brother, but I didn’t know it was you.” Now that she thought about it, there was a resemblance. Jeremy’s hair was shorter and lighter, and his eyes were green, but he and Owen had the same ski slope nose—Jeremy’s was slightly crooked, though, and he had no doubt broken his at some point in life. Both faces possessed chiseled jaws, strong cheekbones, and otherwise classically good looks.
“Yeah, he talks about your friend, Ronnie, all the time, but this is the first I’ve ever met her—well, sort of met her I guess. Things have been kind of hectic tonight.” He laughed mirthlessly. “She’s the one dressed as Snooki, right?”
“Snooki?” Marci asked, narrowing her eyes in confusion.
“Jersey Shore?”
“Oh yeah. That’s the one.” Marci nodded.
“Jeremy said that’d be her costume when I talked to him earlier tonight, so I figured. I saw her with you that night at The Hops, but I didn’t know who she was back then—I’d only ever heard of her through Jeremy. He never mentions you, though.”
“I guess I usually try not to be around when he is,” Marci said with a sheepish smile.
Owen nodded slowly. “My brother can be trying. On the patience.”
Marci felt bad consi
dering all that’d happened that night. “I didn’t mean. All I meant was—” She had no idea what the right thing to say would be in this situation. Finally, she just gave up and said the only thing she could think of that fit as best as anything she could come up with would. “I’m sorry. About what happened tonight.”
“Did you tie him up and pour alcohol down his throat? Did you in any way encourage him to be an irresponsible ass?”
“Well, no.”
His tired smile transformed into a completely disarming one. His eyes were as tired and sad as his smile was engaging. “Then don’t apologize.”
“I just feel like I should say something.”
“It seems that way, huh?” Owen leaned forward and dug his elbows into his thighs. Looking over his shoulder at her, he said, “I’m used to this. It’s okay.”
Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it okay, Marci said to herself, thinking of Glenda King. Sensing he didn’t want to talk about it anymore and wanting to say something that might get his mind off it, Marci pointed to Owen’s sandaled and bandaged foot. “What happened there?”
Owen laughed, and the clear, unburdened sound of it made her feel as if she’d done something good. And she was glad that she’d done it. “The result of a very poor choice on my part. And the reason I haven’t been in lately to the writing center.”
“Aha,” Marci said, sweeping her hair away from her face and adjusting her nurse’s cap.
Owen sat back in his chair and looked over at her. “This is a good look for you.” He reached up and briefly touched her cap.
She laughed. “I don’t know if it’s ironic or just plain scandalous that I ended up in a hospital dressed like this tonight.”
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