by Cat Lavoie
Two hours later, I’ve downed five, maybe six, definitely not more than seven beers and some pink girly drink. I’m feeling numb and wonderful and I put my arm around Emma, who’s not smiling.
“We need to get her home. Now.” Tali and Adam nod in agreement.
“C’mon guys, we’re having fun,” I say, trying not to slur my words. “Let’s just stay. Let’s just stay and have more fun, guys.”
Emma grabs my face and forces me to look at her, but I’m having a hard time keeping my eyes focused. Why does she look so mad? Has she always been this blurry? “Roxy, watching you get drunk is not my idea of fun. Now you need to go home and sleep this off.” Her voice is stern, and for a moment she reminds me of my mother.
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, saluting her like a soldier. I laugh and look at my friends, but no one else is laughing with me. Geez, why so serious?
Adam and Tali grab my arms and help me up from the table, but I struggle and try to get up on my own. We leave The Quid with Emma following close behind. She tries to hail a cab as soon as we step onto the sidewalk.
“Wait, wait,” I say, taking my phone out of my pocket. “I need to call Ollie. I forgot to tell him something the other day.”
“Roxy, don’t do this,” Emma says, forgetting about the cab and coming towards me.
I stretch out my arm trying to get the phone away from her but end up shoving it in Adam’s face instead.
“Give it to me,” he says, struggling to get the phone out of my hands while still holding me up.
“Nooooo,” I say. “I want to talk to him.”
“Roxy, you’re drunk. Friends don’t let friends drink and dial.” Tali grabs at the phone and while her grasp on my arm is loosened, I break away from her and Adam and skip down the empty street.
“Oh my God,” Emma says, starting to cry. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Don’t cry,” I yell back at Emma, trying to sound reassuring. I move out of the street and sit on the sidewalk, scraping my palms against the rough concrete. “I just need to make this one call and then you can take me home, okay?”
Emma nods and stops Adam and Tali when they try to come towards me. Adam shakes his head and looks the other way. I must look exactly like I feel: a complete mess.
I look at the phone resting in my shaky hand. I open it and scroll down my list of contacts, trying to figure out what time it is in London.
“What time is it in Jolly Ole London?” I call out to my friends.
“Time to go home and go to bed,” Adam says.
I stick my tongue out at him. As if I’m going to fall for that one. That’s not even a real time.
I find Ollie’s number in the list and wait for him to answer.
“You’ve reached Oliver Frost. So sorry I missed your call. Please leave me your name and number and I will call you back as soon as possible. Cheers.”
Hearing Ollie’s voice, all warm and familiar, makes me smile. I want to hear it again. I hang up and call again. And again. And again. And again.
“What the hell is she doing?” Adam asks the girls. I ignore him.
After listening to the message six times, I decide I should probably say something.
“Ummmmm. Hi, Ollie. It’s Roxy. Remember me? I just wanted to talk to you and see how you’re doing. Me? I’m totally fine. Everything is perfect, you know? Everything is lovely and great. I miss you. I miss you so much. I just wish you would come home for good. Can you do that? And I also wish you wouldn’t marry Rachel because she’s evil. She hates me and I hate her and I’m tired of pretending that I like her. Don’t marry her. Marry someone better instead. Marry me. Yeah, marry me. That would be better, don’t you think? Then everything will be like it was before. Except there’ll be more kissing. I have to go now. Bye-Bye.”
I drop the phone and slump down on the sidewalk, my head spinning. Emma rushes over and sits next to me, holding my head in her lap and stroking my hair. I close my eyes but everything is still moving. “Oh, Roxy.” Her voice is a whisper but I can still hear her. “Why did you do that?”
“What did I do?” I ask before everything goes black.
The next thing I know, Izzie is helping Adam settle me down on the couch in my apartment. Emma and Tali are talking but I can’t make out what they’re saying. They kiss my forehead and leave before I have a chance to say goodbye, but I can’t really talk anyway. My mouth is dry and it tastes like something died in there. I want to ask for water but the thought of liquid going down my throat makes my stomach lurch. It’s had enough.
I turn my head and see Steffi. Sweet, pregnant Steffi. Before I can stop myself, I bend over and throw up at her feet. Her pink bunny slippers covered in vomit are the last things I see before everything goes black again.
Chapter Eleven
My head. My head.
My head is throbbing.
I open my eyes and stare at the pink ceiling of my room. Wasn’t I on the couch earlier? Why can’t I remember moving?
“Wake up, Roxy,” Steffi says, storming in and opening the blinds. “It’s time to get up.” I wish she’d stop screaming. She slams the door on her way out and it echoes like gunshots in my head.
A wave of nausea hits me as I lift my head off the pillow. I need to run to the bathroom, but I’m so exhausted that all I can do is roll myself to the side just in time to puke on the floor—right next to a wastepaper basket lined with a plastic bag. Crap. Something tells me I was supposed to use that.
Izzie pokes her head in the room. “Oh for God’s sake, Roxy. I’m going to have to clean that up now. Get it together.”
She slams the door just like Steffi and my head feels like it’s about to crack open.
I need to stand up. I need to put one foot in front of the other. I need to remember what happened yesterday.
After giving myself a quick pep talk, I get up and go to the kitchen where both of my sisters avoid my gaze.
“Good morning,” I say, dropping myself into a chair. My legs feel so limp I doubt they’ll be able to hold my weight much longer.
Izzie sighs and shakes her head.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, squinting. Why is it so bright in here? Looking up at Izzie makes my eyes hurt.
“What’s wrong?” she says. “Do you really need to ask us that?”
I turn to Steffi who’s chopping up bananas on the counter. Since when does Steffi cook? I see her putting the bananas in the blender before adding some milk, yogurt and honey. I realize too late what’s going to happen. “No,” I scream, covering my ears with my fists. She pushes the button and the sound of grinding metal screws fills the kitchen for what seems like an hour.
She pours the drink into a tall glass and sets it in front of me. “Drink this. Banana smoothie with honey. It’s the best hangover cure.”
“No way.” I turn my head but can’t escape the thick scent of bananas.
“You have to drink it. Close your eyes and hold your nose if you have to,” Steffi says. She sounds like an expert in the art of hangover cures. I’d give her a hard time about it if it weren’t for the fact that my head hurts when I think.
“I can do this,” I say, taking a deep breath and holding my nose. I bring the glass to my closed lips and force myself to open them. For a moment, I feel as though everything I’m drinking is going to come up again, in addition to what’s left over from last night. But after a few sips the feeling goes away and I let go of my nose.
“This is... good,” I tell Steffi.
“It’s supposed to help your upset stomach,” she says. “You really don’t remember what you said last night, do you?”
I turn to Izzie for help. My brain feels as though it was in the blender along with the bananas. “What did I say?”
Izzie sighs. “Do you want an exact quote?”
I’m not sure that I do but I nod anyway. “Tell me.”
Izzie clears her throat. “Issssadorrra,” she says, trying to imitate my voice. “Isssadora. I like
your name Issssssadoraaaaaaa. You know my awful future-mother-in-law loves your name too. I bet you’d get along with her because you’re almost as big of a bitch as she is.”
I let out a laugh and turn my head to see Izzie’s face set like stone. “Sorry,” I say. “It’s not funny.” I turn to Steffi. “I don’t remember saying that.”
Steffi puts her hands on her hips. “Then you probably don’t remember this. Steffi. Steffi. Steffffanie. It’s okay if you sleep with so many guys you don’t even know who the father of your baby is. I love you even though you’re a slut.”
I gasp. How can I not remember saying such awful things?
“I’m sorry, guys,” I say, starting to tear up. “You know I didn’t mean any of it. Please believe me.”
“What happened yesterday?” Steffi asks, shaking her head.
“I don’t know. I don’t remember.”
Izzie sits down and spreads her newspaper all over the table. “Well, don’t let it happen again. It’s very unattractive.”
A picture in the newspaper grabs my attention and I look at the headline.
Tempestuous Chef Lucas Williams to Open First Restaurant
“Oh my God. Oh my God.” It’s all coming back to me now. I stand up and steady myself on a chair. “Oh my God.”
“What is it?” Izzie asks.
I point at the smug picture smiling back at me. “Him.”
She scans the article. “This Lucas guy is going to open up his own place. What’s the matter?”
I put my hand on my forehead and slowly start talking as images from last night come flooding back. “Greta sent me to have lunch with him because she wants Lucas to be one of our clients...”
“That’s great,” Izzie interrupts.
“Ssssssh, let her finish,” Steffi says.
“And we went to this restaurant and he was so arrogant and so mean to poor Jacques but it turns out it’s all part of this twisted little game he plays. The meeting was a complete disaster and I made a fool of myself and I was feeling so down...”
Izzie sighs. “So you went to the Quid and got drunk?”
“Not before making out with Lucas Williams in the back of a cab,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
Steffi and Izzie stare at me and, for a moment, they both look so much like our mother that I close my eyes for a second, hoping to make her go away. Nope. Still there. A bit of anger mixed with plenty of disappointment. I’ve seen that look one too many times.
“You made out with this guy?” Izzie says, taking a closer look at Lucas’ picture. “So is he going to sign with Kilborn?”
Clearly, my sister’s workaholism has made her miss the point.
“I don’t know,” I say through clenched teeth. “And at this point I don’t really care. It’s Ethan I’m worried about.” I feel a tug at my heart at the sound of Ethan’s name. My poor sweet Ethan.
“I think you should come clean,” Izzie says.
Of course she does. “Should I tell him or should I wait until you go behind my back and tell him yourself?”
Izzie makes a face. “I’m not going to say anything, but I know you’re not going to be able to live with yourself if you don’t.”
“No,” Steffi says, shaking her head. “We all do stupid things when we’re drunk. Why should she tell him? It’s not going to happen again, is it?”
She looks at me and I shake my head until my raging headache comes back.
“But you’re forgetting something, Steffi.” Izzie points at me as though I’m standing in the witness’ chair. “If we’re to believe Roxy’s story, she only got drunk after making out with this Lucas guy. So, technically, this does not qualify as something stupid she did while drunk.” She picks up her newspaper again. “Oh, by the way, Emma called you this morning to see how you were doing. I answered your cell.”
I gasp. Emma. My cell phone. Last night. “I called Ollie,” I say, my voice muffled by the hand covering my mouth. “That’s the stupid thing I did while I was drunk. I called Ollie and left him a message and I told him not to marry Rachel.” I search through my cloudy memories and see myself sitting on the sidewalk, my friends looking at me from a distance. Looking at me like I’d lost my mind. I rest my head on the table and groan. “Oh, God. I told Ollie he should marry me.”
I get up and stumble over to the couch, hiding myself under a blanket. I don’t want to see anyone or talk to anyone. If I’m lucky, the oxygen supply under this blanket will run out soon and I can drift off to sleep, like dogs do when you have them put down.
Izzie grabs the blanket and yanks it off me. Her eyes are narrowed and I can tell she’s in lecture mode so I brace myself for it. When Steffi comes to stand beside her, I know it’s a double attack. I don’t even have the strength to argue, so I turn my head and press my face against the cushion and let it happen.
“What’s been going on with you lately, huh?” Izzie begins. “It’s like you’re out of control and determined to ruin your own wedding before it even happens. Getting drunk, kissing other men... What’s next? Are you going to go on a crime spree or something? I don’t know what to expect from you anymore. You’re not Roxy. You’re not my sister. Frankly, I think I should call Mom and have her come over.”
I can almost see the smug look on her face. Two can play at this game. Even though every muscle in my body is aching, I sit up and confront my sister.
“Do you really think that’s a good idea, Izz? Cause if we talk about me, we sure as hell need to talk about you too. I’m sure Mom will love hearing about your little mid-life crisis, which is happening about ten years too early, by the way. You’ve got the hot, young boyfriend. What’s next... a sports car?” I try to throw a cushion at her, but I’m so weak that it barely travels a few inches.
Steffi joins in, her voice shaking. “Roxy, I really think you...”
“Be quiet, Little Miss Pregnant Princess.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them. “I may be messed up but at least I didn’t get knocked up by some loser who didn’t even call me back the next day.”
“Why do you have to be so hurtful?” Izzie says, putting a protective arm around Steffi.
Truth is, I don’t know why lashing out at my sisters feels so good. Maybe it’s because being angry at them means I stop being angry at myself for a little while. But from the look on my baby sister’s face, I know that I’ve gone too far.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, grabbing Steffi’s hand before she walks away. “Please forgive me?”
Steffi sits down next to me on the couch. “You’re my big sister, Roxy. Of course I forgive you.”
“Even though you didn’t ask, I forgive you too,” Izzie says, trying not to smile.
“Thanks, guys,” I say. “Listen, I need your help.”
There’s no way I can muster up the courage to check my email and my voicemail. I need Izzie to do it for me.
“Nothing,” Izzie says, closing down my computer. “He hasn’t written. Or called.”
I sigh with relief. No email, no voicemail. Maybe something happened and Ollie never even got my message. I can pray for a miracle, can’t I?
Izzie hands me my phone. “Now maybe you should call your friends and tell them you’re not dead?”
I spend the next hour speaking to Tali, Adam and Emma and apologizing for my behavior. I make Adam swear he’ll never serve me another drink and Tali reassures me that—should he ever break his promise—she’ll be happy to drink them for me. I’ve been part of a few conference calls in my lifetime but this is definitely the weirdest.
“What are you going to do about Ollie?” Emma asks once we’re alone on the line.
My heart sinks at the sound of his name. Of all the things I could mess up, why did I go and mess up our friendship?
“Just wait and see, I guess.” It’s a mediocre answer, I know. And I know that I’m just avoiding the issue but it’s the best I can do right now.
“I think you need a change of scenery. Dean and I have a mov
ie date tonight. Do you want to join us? Bring Ethan.”
Adam had laughed hysterically during our conference call when Emma told us about the new tactic she’s been using to get her boyfriend off the couch. Since Dean refuses to leave the apartment and take her out, Emma brings their dates to the couch—complete with popcorn and a DVD copy of every chick flick and period drama ever produced.
“Thanks, but I just want to stay in. Ethan is still in Nashville.” I smile thinking of Emma’s brilliant plan. “What’s playing tonight?”
“I haven’t decided yet, but it’s likely going to be a movie based on the works of Jane Austen. Or maybe I’ll go for something foreign with subtitles. Yesterday, we watched Steel Magnolias. Twice. In a row. He’s about to crack. I can just feel it.”
“Good luck,” I say, hanging up the phone.
I head towards the bathroom to take a shower when Izzie stops me. Her eyes are wide with excitement and for a minute I think that she might have her job back.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Does the Quid have a stage?”
I think it over for a minute. “Yeah, it does. But Adam hasn’t had a band play there for ages. Why?”
She paces back and forth in the hallway, her hands shoved in her pockets. “You know Chaser’s band?” she asks.
I rack my brain trying to remember their name. “The Shoplifting Rockers?”
Izzie rolls her eyes. “Eye Eight Chelsea. They have a gig tonight but the bar they were supposed to play in just got shut down because of some rat droppings or something. We need a new venue. Fast.”
We? My sister is officially a groupie.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I don’t think Adam...”
“Chaser knows at least fifty people who are going to be there and most of them are raging alcoholics.”
I nod, knowing that Adam is a big fan of raging alcoholics lining up to get into his pub.
A few hours later, Steffi, Izzie and I are fighting for the bathroom mirror just like the good old days, except that now Steffi has an unfair advantage with that huge bump.
“Excuse me,” she says, laughing and shoving me out of the way. “I have mascara to apply.”