I opened my door and the cold air shocked me, making my head swim and my stomach thrust violently. I spewed vodka all over my feet, holding myself up on the door so I wouldn’t fall over. It took a few minutes before the contractions stopped. I shuddered and steadied myself as the parking lot moved underneath me. I walked into the office focusing on each step. There was a woman standing next to the desk swaying side to side with her own bottle in a brown bag.
The receptionist barely looked up.
“How long?”
“One night.”
“Forty-two dollars.”
I pulled out bills and tried to focus on counting them. It was impossible. I handed him the money and he plopped a key in my hand. He pointed to the left. “Room 211. Let me know when you leave,” he grunted, flicking his cigarette in the ashtray.
I shuffled down the side of the building avoiding eye contact with the people sprawled around. I had to push my body against the door to get it open and slam it hard to get it shut once I was inside. I steadied myself against the wall. The room was small, cramped, and dirty. It smelled like stale cigarettes and the sweet, musty odor of another chemical I didn’t recognize. The bed took up most of the room and the bedspread was old and worn through in places. Various size stains dotted the threadbare design. I shuddered to think what had happened on it. There were cigarette burns on the floor.
It was only ten steps to the bathroom which was the size of a small closet. There wasn’t even a bathtub—only a sink with a small shower lined with a rank plastic shower curtain. I stood next to the sink afraid to touch anything. I gripped my bottle, unscrewed the top, and raised it to my lips drinking quickly before my body rejected it. I drank past the feeling of wanting to vomit. I swallowed it back down each time it came up. I needed to get the burning liquid inside me. I devoured the bottled as if I’d been dehydrated for days. My body went slack with a sweet release as my back slid down the wall until I hit the ground.
I lay next to the toilet resting my head on the cracked linoleum. The linoleum spun like a wheel in front of me. If I moved my head to the right or the left, the world fell with it so I stared straight ahead at a spot of brown mold underneath the shower curtain. The pungent odor of unknown smells wafted up my nose making me gag. I let the puke drain from my nose and mouth without lifting my head. I was completely numb and exhausted. I fell asleep with my eyes wide open.
Chapter Eleven
My phone jolted me awake. I rubbed my eyes, looking around at the muted tiles covered in film before I remembered where I was. My head throbbed and my stomach felt like there was acid eating away at it. I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Eight missed calls from David. My heart started to pound. Was he ready to talk? Did something else happen to Rori? He hadn’t left any voice messages to give me a clue. I tapped his number, trying to shake the cotton wool from my head.
He answered on the second ring. “What kind of a sick game are you playing, Celeste?”
I had no idea what he was talking about. What was going on?
“I…. uh…. what do you mean?” It felt like I had a mouthful of marbles I had to speak around.
“I called Phil.”
I waited for him to say something else, but he was silent. He was waiting for me to give him a response but I didn’t have one to give. I couldn’t believe he’d called Phil. I was horrified. What’d he say to him? How’d Phil respond?
I’d spent so much time and energy pretending like That Night never happened. It’d been difficult working with Phil every week and acting like nothing had changed. He never mentioned it and treated me like he’d always treated me. At first, it’d been easier that he acted so nonchalantly as if we were the same colleagues we’d always been, but he was so convincing I started wondering if I was crazy and had imagined the whole thing. But then I’d catch him looking at me with that look in his eye and all the memories would come flooding back.
“Are you ever going to start telling the truth?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m telling the truth.” My words came out slurred.
“Are you drunk?” I heard the shock in his voice. I looked at the time. It was three o’clock in the afternoon. I’d never been drunk at three in the afternoon.
“I…. I-just…. I had a few drinks.”
“Jesus Christ. I really don’t know who you are, but you know what–—I don’t even care. I just want to know who Rori’s father is.”
“Phil. It’s Phil. I told you.”
“Funny, that’s not what he said an hour ago.” David’s voice didn’t belong to him. It belonged to someone else. A person I didn’t know or recognize. There wasn’t an ounce of love or softness in his voice. “He had no idea what I was talking about. He told me he’d never had an affair with you. That nothing happened. He was actually very nice about it. Said he wished he could help.”
I threw the phone against the wall. I clamped both hands over my mouth trying to stifle the scream tearing at my throat. My breath was ragged and my chest tight. Sweat soaked through my black t-shirt. Wave after wave of nausea washed over me. I pulled my knees up to my chest, hugging them in place with my arms.
“We didn’t have an affair,” I whimpered to the empty walls.
Of course Phil denied it. What else could he say? Vehement hate shot through my veins. I hated him, but hated myself even more because it was my fault. If only I’d ignored him. That Night wasn’t the first time he’d hit on me or said something suggestive—it was just the first time I’d paid attention. I made it a habit early in my career to ignore any flirting from my male colleagues. Insurance was a man’s world and I’d been working in it since college so I was skilled at keeping my guard up. Being taken seriously as a woman required it. There were lots of women who slept their way to the top, but I’d worked my way there just like every other man in a suit. I never did anything even hinting at flirting. If only I hadn’t been so lonely, but it’d been so long since I’d been touched and his touch had been electric, igniting the parts of me muted from inattention. How could I have been so stupid? I groaned.
I crawled on the ground like a crackhead searching for my bottle. It was almost empty. I picked it up and drained the last few sips. It didn’t even burn this time. I picked up my phone. David had hung up. I tapped his number again. He was still furious.
“I told you the truth. Phil is Rori’s father.”
“God, this is so fuckin sick and twisted. I can’t stand it–”
“I’m so sorry, David. I–”
“Shut the fuck up. I don’t want you to ever tell me you’re sorry again. You’re a fuckin cunt.”
I sat straight up, stunned as if I’d been shot with a Taser gun. David never used words like that. Ever. Sobs ripped through my body, making me shake like I was having a seizure.
“Are you about done crying? I don’t have time for this.”
“What do you want me to do? I’ll do anything. Anything to make this better.”
“The only thing you can do to make this better is to call your boyfriend, whoever he is, and get his ass down to the hospital so this kid has a chance.”
“Don’t call her that.”
“Oh, suddenly, you give a shit about her? Please. You’ve been the worse mother on the planet since she’s been born.”
“Stop it! Just stop it!” My screams reverberated off the walls.
“Guess what? I can say whatever the hell I want to say. We. Are. Done. You’re going to call Phil and get him to take the stupid blood test. Then, you’re never going to see us again. I don’t care if he’s the one who got you knocked up. She’s my daughter and I’m going to do everything I can to save her life. Then, I’m taking her far away from you and all this.”
“I-I-I….”
“The bitch that always has something to say can’t talk herself out of this one.” His words were fists and they pummeled me, but I deserved every hit. “Rori’s life depends on this.”
“Don’t you think I know th
at?”
“I don’t know what you think anymore. I’m pretty sure I never did. Call me after you’ve talked to Phil.”
Dead air.
I reeled from his verbal assault, trying not to cry again. I felt like an old milk carton whose contents had been emptied and discarded. How was I supposed to talk to Phil about this? It’d taken me two years before I could look at him without That Night being the first thing on my mind. The thought of it made my skin crawl. The feeling of termites underneath my skin was back and I raked my nails up and down my arms.
I couldn’t talk to Phil sober, but my bottle was empty. I needed more. I got up slowly from the bathroom floor, the walls spinning around me. For a minute, I thought I might pass out but I closed my eyes tightly and willed myself to stay conscious. I took three deep breaths and steadied myself on my feet. I felt as if I’d been awake for years. How could it still be the same day?
I stumbled across the parking lot, trying to remember where I’d parked my car. The sunlight hurt my eyes, making me squint in revulsion. I found it in a spot underneath the vacancy sign. I plugged my phone into the charger and looked up the nearest liquor store. There was one four blocks away. I would walk to the liquor store, get another bottle, drink it, and call Phil. I forced myself to stay focused on the task at hand.
I got the same bottle of vodka I’d bought before—the one with a gray wolf on it. I walked out of the store with another brown bag and took a gulp before I got through the first block. I couldn’t help but wonder if this was what it was like to be an alcoholic. Could you become an alcoholic in one day?
I’d never understood alcoholics, but today I understood the power of alcohol. I welcomed the bubble of insulation it put around me. It was like being covered in a warm blanket of nothingness. My thinking was garbled and unclear, but it was a relief because I didn’t want to think straight. I had no desire to remember anything about this day or That Night. I didn’t want to feel anything except numb.
I paced the small hotel room trying to figure out what to say to him. There was no way I was going to my office. I didn’t want anyone to see me this way, especially not my employees. I was going to have to meet him somewhere alone and the thought of it made me guzzle more vodka. I pulled out my phone again, scrolled down my contacts to his name and tapped the call button before I lost my nerve.
He answered on the second ring as if he’d been expecting my call. “Hello, Celeste?”
The sound of his voice sent my stomach into my throat.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“Hold on a sec.”
My heart pounded in my chest and my armpits dripped with sweat. I took another drink, hoping it would help. The warm liquid spread throughout my body again. I paced back and forth across the small room waiting for him to get back on the line. I kept telling myself not to hang up until he was finally back on the line.
“I heard about Rori. So sorry to hear she’s sick.”
I hated that he said her name. He didn’t deserve to say her name.
“I was wondering if I could talk to you about that.” Somehow I sounded clear and coherent. The words were flowing easily out of my mouth in a logical way, even though I didn’t feel like I was the one formulating them. I was talking but had no connection to my voice.
“Um, hon, I’m not really sure we should be talking about that.”
How could he call me hon? How dare he? I clenched my fist and gripped the phone with my other hand to keep myself from throwing it again. I couldn’t go through with this, but David would never talk to me again if I didn’t. I couldn’t live with David not speaking to me.
“We have to.” My voice came out authoritative just like it did at work. I was glad I’d had years of practice.
“And what am I going to get out of this?” His voice changed. He was no longer the CEO of my company—the boss I worked under and who’d mentored me since college. He was the guy from That Night.
“Whatever you want.”
“Hmm…. this just got interesting.” I could hear the amusement in his voice. “You know we can’t do this at the office. Where should we meet?”
I was disgusted with myself. I forced the words out of my mouth. “I’m staying at a hotel. We could meet here.”
“You’re at a hotel right now?”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing at a hotel while your daughter is sick?”
Was he really that delusional? Either he was crazy or I was.
“Can you come?”
“As many times as you want.” He laughed the same way he’d laughed That Night. I shuddered in revulsion. “I can clear my schedule and be there in an hour. Where are you?”
I rattled off the address as quick as I could. I tossed my phone on the bed as if it’d burned me. Every wall in the room felt like it was closing in on me. A surge of electricity shot through my body making my hands tingle. There was a loud ringing in my ears. The world swirled around me. I picked my phone back up and texted David.
I’m talking to Phil in an hour.
Let me know when it’s done. Dr. Wilcox is going to need to talk to him. Have him call Dr. Wilcox at 323-810-9756 so they can set things up.
How’s Rori?
Fine.
I’m sorry.
Get the ball rolling with Phil. He might be able to save Rori’s life.
I wanted her to live, but didn’t want Phil to have any part of saving her. What if they put his organs inside her? He’d be intimately connected with her for the rest of her life. I didn’t want him to touch or be near her. He’d infiltrated her life enough. If he were the one to save her, he’d come out looking like a hero. He’d be redeemed of his crime while I’d be forever punished for mine.
I pulled the blinds’ string, letting the dirty white plastic down. I didn’t want anyone to see in and didn’t want to see out. I double-checked the deadbolt making sure I’d locked it behind me. I threw myself on the bed no longer caring what nastiness stained it and started to cry. I didn’t think I had any more tears left, but they just kept coming.
I sat up, admonishing myself to get it together. I had to find a way to calm down before Phil arrived. I couldn’t let him see me in the state I was in. The only thing that could make the situation worse was having him see me emotionally destroyed. I eyed the room for my bottle, spotting it on the small table next to the TV. If I was going to have to talk to Phil about That Night and tell him he was the father of my child, I was going to be wasted.
Chapter Twelve
Primal screams shattered the air. It took a second to realize the screaming was coming from me. I came to with startling clarity. For the last week, I’d been flung into black space disconnected from my body, watching myself perform from above as if I wasn’t a real person. I’d been watching my life unfold and unravel around me like I was watching a movie, but suddenly I was present. I was in my body again and acutely aware of who I was. I felt alive, whole and energized as if I’d just poked my head above the surface of the water after being submerged. I felt every breath, my heart’s staccato drum, and my blood flowing through my veins. My hands were shaking violently, covered in crimson red. My left hand gripped the lamp stand, broken off at the top forming a sharp jagged point.
I looked down at me feet. Phil’s chiseled face was unrecognizable. His eyes were wide open, gaping in horror. There were deep gashes running in chaos across his face, showing the meat inside. His eyes were swollen shut and bloody footprints stamped his forehead. His head lay in a pool of blood still widening its width on the tattered brown carpet. The shattered pieces of my vodka bottle lay strewn by his body. I dropped the lamp as I fell to my feet.
What did I do?
I didn’t want to touch him. I couldn’t look at him again. I stared at my hands. They were still shaking and slick with fresh blood sliding off my fingers. My rational mind told me to call 911, but another part of my mind had taken over. I got up from my spot and walked to the bathroom in a daze. I ran my hands un
der the faucet as the blood flowed in a rustic river from my hands and swirled its way down the sink. There were chunks of glass in my palms. One looked like it was nearly all the way through. I grabbed it with my other hand and pulled it out without flinching. Methodically, I worked my way through the other pieces creating a small pile in the sink. I’d always hated the sight of blood, but I was unaffected by it. My hands didn’t belong to me. I laughed out loud—a maniacal cackle. I looked for towels to wrap my hands with, but the towel racks were empty.
I walked back into the room, the taste of copper in my mouth. There was a sharp stinging pain behind my eyes. I eyed the room, looking for something to wrap them with since they wouldn’t stop bleeding. The smell of urine and feces permeated the air. My eyes took in the images in quick snapshots. Phil’s motionless body on the floor in front of the door. Red splatters on the wall. Two chairs toppled over. The TV lying on its side next to the stand. The only thing left untouched was the bed. I laughed again. The sound of my laughter still foreign. I grabbed a pillow from the bed and took the case off. I gripped the case with my teeth and ripped it into uneven halves. I used a piece for each hand tying them around my wounds like a boxer.
I stepped toward Phil’s body. Ice water shot through my veins as if any minute he might wake up and come at me. I forced myself to crouch down next to him. I couldn’t leave without knowing for sure he was dead. I placed my fingers on his neck. His skin was still warm. I felt for a pulse like I’d seen people do in the movies. There was nothing. I grabbed one of his arms and lifted it up to check his pulse on his wrist. Nothing. I let his arm go and it flopped back down to the floor lifeless. I stood.
I grabbed my keys from the table and took off running for my car like I was at the starting line of a race and the gun had just been fired. I slid into the seat. My entire body was shaking now. The tremors had traveled from my hands throughout my whole body. I fumbled with getting the keys into the ignition. I pulled out of the parking lot, nearly hitting a car as I made a quick left. I drove in the direction of our house. My brain ran wildly as if my thoughts were on a treadmill running so fast I didn’t have time to discern any particular one. I watched myself as I drove to the house screaming at myself to stop, turn around, call 911, but I couldn’t stop. Someone else had taken control of me.
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