Drunk Dial

by Penelope Ward

  “You were very sneaky with that money, by the way.”

  “Yeah, well, you went and had your dad pay for the ticket, which wasn’t right, because I told you I wanted to cover it. So, I wanted to get you back.”

  “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “I wanted to. You need the money.”

  “It seems so weird that you’re far away again.”

  “I may not be physically with you right now, but I am always here for you. Anytime you need me, Rana, you know I’ll drop everything, right? If you ever need to talk to me or just hear my voice, I don’t care what time of day it is, you call me.”

  I hadn’t shed one tear since Landon’s revelation last night, but I was starting to cry now. I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why I’d chosen this moment to break down. There was only one thing I knew for sure. “I miss you already.”

  “Are you crying?”

  A tear fell down my cheek. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you kidding? It means a lot to me that you are. Yesterday I wasn’t sure if you’d even continue speaking to me, let alone cry and say you miss me. Your tears right now are music to my ears.”

  “I had a lot of time to think on the flight, but to be honest, every time my mind wanders to what you told me about your past, I instinctively block it out. It’s like a protective mechanism.”

  “I can understand that. It’s sort of what I do whenever I think about it now. It’s how I deal with it, too.”

  “Is it okay that I just don’t want to think about it at all right now?”

  “Of course, that’s okay. You take all the time you need. Just don’t stop talking to me. I need to hear your voice every day.”

  My Uber driver pulled up to the sidewalk in front of me.

  “My ride is here.”

  “Will you call me before you go to sleep tonight?”

  “Yes,” I promised.

  After we hung up, during the drive home, I focused on nothing but the noises around me in an attempt to clear my mind. Dark Side by Kelly Clarkson came on the radio. How ironic. Closing my eyes, I tried my best to relax for the rest of the ride.

  Little did I know I was about to be greeted with a rude awakening when I got to my apartment.

  Once inside, the place seemed eerily quiet. Usually, I could hear some kind of noise coming from my roommate’s bedroom. Instead, Lenny’s door was open, revealing an almost entirely empty space.

  Oh, my God.

  He was gone. Not a single item was left behind.

  I was feeling a mixture of relief and paranoia.

  Reaching for my phone, I immediately dialed Landon.

  He picked up. “I didn’t expect to hear back from you so soon.”

  “Lenny’s gone.”

  “What? Like disappeared?”

  “Like moved out, yeah. He took all of his things.”

  “Well, shit. That’s a good thing, right?”

  “I think so, yeah. I mean, a part of me is a little paranoid.”

  “Of what?”

  “That he might come back.” I laughed at myself, realizing how ridiculous that sounded.

  “You’d rather live with him every day than live with the fear of him coming back?”

  “No. But at least with him here, I could keep an eye on him. Now, Lenny will be like an invisible danger lurking in the night.”

  “That’s insane. I’m glad the fucker left. That’s the best homecoming you could’ve asked for. You don’t need that shit in your life.”

  “Well, I needed his rent.”

  “No, you don’t. I’ll pay his half of the rent indefinitely until you can find someone, preferably a female.”

  “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Doesn’t matter whether you let me. I’m doing it anyway.”

  I walked into my room and gasped loudly upon the sight of my open closet.

  “What happened?”

  “My clothes…most of them are gone!”

  “That sick fuck took your clothes?”

  My hands were shaking. “This is so freaky.”

  “Call the police, Rana. Now.”

  “I won’t do that. I’m too scared of retaliation.”

  “Okay, if you won’t, then at the very least, you need to change your locks.”

  “I’ll work on that first thing in the morning. Nothing’s open now.”

  “We used to think it was funny, but this shit is no joke. That dude is sick.”

  “What do you think he’s doing with my clothes?”

  “Who the fuck knows. Some voodoo shit? It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad he’s gone.”

  “I think I’m going to start looking for a new place tomorrow. It freaks me out that he knows my schedule.”

  “I’m going to insist on it, Rana. Seriously.”

  “I was hoping to come home and relax, maybe draw a nice, hot bath. Instead, I feel like I walked into an episode of Unsolved Mysteries.”

  Landon chuckled. “Minus Robert Stacks’ creepy voice.”

  “Yeah.” I sighed. “I swear…my life is so bizarre.”

  Since Lenny had taken my work clothes as well, the following day was spent scrambling to find two new belly dancer outfits, seeing as though I had to return to my dancing gig that night.

  I was eternally grateful for the money Landon had snuck into my coat. Otherwise, I would never have been able to afford new uniforms. There was only one woman in town who sold them, and she was expensive because everything was handmade. I didn’t have time to order anything online, so I had to go to her.

  After leaving the seamstress’ shop, with an hour to spare before the start of my shift, I decided to pay a quick visit to Lilith and give her the few souvenirs I had brought her back from California.

  It wasn’t our normal Big Sister day, so she looked surprised to see me when she joined me out on her porch.

  “You came back.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?”

  “I bet Jasper a dollar that you would, but he wanted to make it five. I told him that was too much because I thought I might lose.”

  “Thanks for the one-dollar vote of confidence, Lil.”

  “Is there something for me in that bag?”

  “There are several things in this bag. Two new work outfits for me, and there just might be a few things for you, yes.”

  She adjusted her glasses. “Let’s see.”

  “Okay, technically, Landon paid for these gifts, because I didn’t have any money with me.”

  “I like him.”

  “I didn’t know what to get you, so we bought a few different things.” I took out the smaller gift bag that contained all of her presents.

  She opened it and sifted through the gifts: A Venice Beach key chain, a California T-shirt, a replica of the Landon’s Lunch Box truck, and a fake Academy Award that said Best Friend.

  Lilith inspected each item. “You did good, Toots.”

  I laughed whenever she called me “Toots.” What person under the age of eighty used that term? She was getting more and more like a little old lady every day.

  While she wasn’t jumping up and down or anything, she really did seem to like the gifts. I let out a relieved breath as she gave me a hug.

  “When are you gonna see Landon again?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Will I ever get to meet him?”

  “I hope so.”

  “Did you bring anything else back?”

  A massive case of lady blue balls and a bit of a broken heart.

  IT’S THE ONIONS

  The next few weeks went by in a flash.

  I kept looking for a new apartment during the day but wasn’t having any luck finding anything in my price range. That, along with looking in on my father who was recovering from knee surgery, meant my life was unusually hectic.

  Even though I’d talk to Landon every night, I avoided getting into any serious topics because I felt like I couldn’t handle it mentally. Sensing that, he was letti
ng me drive all of our conversations.

  Everything came to a head one night at work when I had what felt like a panic attack during one of my dance routines. I was able to ride it out but felt totally exhausted by the time I got home.

  During our nightly phone chat, I opened up to Landon about what happened at the restaurant.

  “I had a bit of a panic attack tonight while performing. That’s never happened to me before.”

  “Are you okay? What did it feel like?”

  “I’m okay now. It just felt like I couldn’t breathe, like I was trapped in my own body with nowhere to run. I think I’ve been bottling my feelings up, and they finally turned against me.”

  He didn’t immediately respond.

  “Your feelings about me…about my past?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I’ve been really trying hard not to think about what you used to do, but it’s been like an ever-present ghost following me around anyway.”

  “As much as I don’t want to, I think we really need to talk about it.”

  There was no other answer for me to give him except, “I agree.”

  “Please, just ask me whatever you want to know. Rip the Band-Aid off. Let’s just get it all out there so we can deal with it. That’s the only way you’re going to know whether it’s something you can look past or not.”

  I knew the questions in my mind; I just didn’t want to necessarily know the answers. But this limbo couldn’t go on forever. So, I took advantage of the open floor he was giving me tonight and just started shooting off my questions.

  “You said these women were all married?”

  “Yes. Each one. But for the most part, they were in bad marriages, either open relationships, or the spouse was cheating, too. Sadly, I’m finding that’s pretty common among some of the wealthy people here—so many getting divorced or having affairs.”

  My next question was perhaps the hardest one to ask, but I still had to know. “Did you ever…enjoy it?”

  He exhaled. “I love sex. You know that. There’s probably nothing more that I love doing. But there’s a big difference between having sex with someone you choose versus someone who’s using you and vice versa. The idea of the latter repulses me now. But at the time, I would just zone out, detach myself from the situation. While I can’t say I enjoyed it, I can’t say I hated it, either. In the moment, it never felt like I was being used, never made me sick like it does now.”

  “Were they all attractive…like Carys?”

  “These were wealthy women who knew how to take care of themselves, so yeah, they were all attractive, not women I would have chosen for myself, but they were attractive, nonetheless. I couldn’t have done it if the person repulsed me.” When I stopped talking for several seconds, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  My emotions were all over the place, and at one point, I lost my composure a bit. “God, Landon, how could you let them take advantage of you like that?”

  “I was lost—depressed. Some people turn to drugs or cutting, other forms of self-harm. I turned to using my body but managed to convince myself it wasn’t that bad because I was benefitting financially. The way I saw it, I was doing it in fancy, private places on my own terms, not selling myself on the street to just anyone. On the best day, I had myself convinced that it wasn’t really prostitution, that it was something else. I didn’t account for the fact that a little piece of my soul was being stripped away each time, and that it would all eventually hit me at once. I also didn’t take into account that I would have to look into your eyes someday and admit to you that I sold my body. I wasn’t thinking…period.”

  I pondered whether what he did was really all that different than my having sex as a teenager with boys who were using me. Sure, they weren’t paying me, but they were using me just the same.

  Over the next hour, as painful as it was, I kept asking Landon question after question. I didn’t want to have to talk about the details ever again, so I made sure every bit of morbid curiosity was satisfied. He was being so amazingly open with me, even though I knew it was really difficult for him.

  Among other things, he told me that most of the women wanted more than just missionary sex. They asked him to play into their bad boy fantasies, things like being slapped, sworn at, called a slut, or screwed from behind while having their hair pulled—things their husbands didn’t do. One woman even asked him to piss on her. I couldn’t believe he was admitting all of this to me, but in a way, it was a relief to know I wouldn’t have to wonder about any of it anymore. It was basically the ugly truth, but at least it was the truth.

  It freaked me out a little, because as he was telling me some of this stuff, I found myself getting turned on. It was a natural reaction to my imagination putting Landon into any kind of sexual scenario.

  I refused to block out the sexual images, though. It was the only way I could rid my mind of them, to let them be there and to let them pass.

  At a certain point, the woman in my mind morphed into an image of myself. I imagined Landon doing some of those things to me, striking my ass, pulling my hair, lashing at my skin with his tongue. Under the circumstances of our talk, though, it was disturbing, and I could never have admitted that to him.

  We’d stayed up talking late into the night.

  The following morning, I woke up feeling like I was hung over, even though I hadn’t been drinking. I realized the feeling was a direct result of finally unleashing all of those bottled-up questions to Landon. Because he’d been so forthright with me, there truly wasn’t a need to ever have to revisit any of it again.

  It had been mentally exhausting, but there was no other choice. You can’t put out a fire by dancing around it. You have to deal with it, douse it with water until there’s nothing left. Once the fire’s out, you can either choose to rebuild or abandon the rubble.

  I knew he wanted assurance that I wasn’t going to judge him for his past indiscretions. He was adamant about the fact that he couldn’t handle a relationship with me if I planned on continuously holding his past against him.

  So, I really needed to take some time and look inside myself to be sure that I wouldn’t do that to him.

  I spent a good portion of that afternoon just sitting in silence. I realized that even though I may have been disappointed in his past decisions, at no point did his confession ever stop me from caring about him. If anything, feelings of love felt even stronger, like all of the emotions I’d ever felt toward him came alive at once and banded together in solidarity to protect and forgive him.

  Later that evening, deciding to do something I hadn’t done in a while, I meandered over to my closet, pulling out the black backpack.

  I took out some of the folded notes that I could tell were ones I hadn’t read in the past year.

  I opened one.

  Rana Banana,

  Why do feet smell and noses run? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

  Landon

  P.S. I smelled your feet once when you fell asleep on the hammock in the yard. They smell like Fritos.

  P.P.S. Just kidding (Maybe). Now, I want chips.

  Smiling, I folded it back up before opening another.

  Rana Banana,

  Sometimes I forget that you actually live in my garage. Before my dad turned it into an apartment, I used to park my scooter right where you sleep! Now, I have to leave it outside.

  Landon

  P.S. That’s okay. I would rather have you here than a place to park my scooter.

  Crying and smiling, I opened another one.

  Rana Banana,

  Did you know that Rana means frog in Spanish? I learned that in school today.

  Landon

  P.S. I think it would be really cool if you started croaking.

  P.P.S. “Ribbit.”

  The next one made my heart drop for a moment, because I remembered all of the feelings of jealousy and confusion that ensued the very first time I’d read it all those years ago.

  Rana Banana,

&n
bsp; Kelsie tried to kiss me today. I think she’s really pretty, but it seemed weird. I turned my head away. I was in the middle of eating WarHeads, plus I was afraid you’d find out. I know you don’t like her.

  Landon

  P.S. Would it have made you mad if I let her kiss me?

  P.P.S. Have you ever kissed anyone?

  P.P.P.S. Maybe we could practice on each other some time. You know, so it’s not weird when we actually kiss somebody for real.

  Even though Landon and I never ended up kissing back then, that note reminded me how much I had missed after we moved away and again brought back the feelings of jealousy toward Kelsie, knowing that she eventually became his very first girlfriend. After everything he’d confessed to me, I was still jealous of Kelsie? I knew how ridiculous that was. I gladly folded that note and put it away.

  The final note that I opened really resonated with me and felt like the one I was meant to end on.

  Rana Banana,

  I’m sorry I told my mom you hit her car with your bike. I should’ve just taken the blame. She wasn’t mad, though. She said we all make mistakes. Anyway, I’m sorry you cried. I’ve never seen you cry before. That sucked.

  Landon

  P.S. Maybe it’s not really a mistake if you learn from it.

  Refolding it, I just sobbed for the longest time, crying for a number of reasons. I mourned the innocence of the boy who’d penned all those notes. I felt terrified for what I now knew would happen to him in the future. But at the same time, that final message about learning from mistakes made so much sense to me, the words perhaps more important to me now than he ever could have realized then.

  I looked at the clock. I knew it was the middle of Landon’s lunch hour rush, but I needed to hear his voice, needed for him to hear what was in my heart in that moment before I lost the courage to say it.

  After a few rings, he picked up. He knew I never called him while he was working and sounded alarmed to be hearing from me at that time of day. “Rana, is everything okay?”