Expiration Dating (16 page)

             
Emilia and Megan hesitated before commenting, and I could tell they weren’t sure what had triggered my outburst. I didn’t know, either. All these emotions seemed to be bubbling up in me today, and they surprised me, too. It seemed the words and thoughts had formed in my mind, but I hadn’t accepted them until they spilled out of my mouth.

It was a still
moment before anyone spoke.

             
Megan cleared her throat, “I understand.”

             
Emilia put her hand on my shoulders. I felt an odd combination of relief and despair, bringing me to the verge of tears. “You’ve had this experience, Dana, and nobody can take that away from you. And you’re stuck with us because we’re all staying friends in America. That doesn’t change. Bring a little of Italy back with you, there’s no one saying you can’t live like you do now at home.”

             
“You promise we’ll still be friends?” I asked.

             
She nodded. “Of course.”

             
Megan added, “You can come to my farm in Iowa and eat vegetables all day long.”

             
Emilia laughed, “And when we all have jobs and get rich, we’ll come back here for a reunion.”

             
“You guys, we’re only halfway through the semester, get a grip,” Megan said, trying to lighten the mood.

             
I went to the bathroom and rinsed my face off. I felt emotionally drained. As I gripped the edges of the sink and dried my face, I looked in the mirror.

I smiled.

I was happy.

Emilia was right; maybe I could bring this Dana back to America.

Chapter
Twenty Five

I brushed my teeth
with shaking hands. I had to remind myself to lay off the pressure so I didn’t get a receding gum line. Then no one would want to date me. The jitteriness was due to the expectancy of seeing Andrew again. I talked to myself in the mirror, pumping myself up.
Go with the flow
,
Dana. Relax. Feel whatever you want and enjoy it.

If it only lasted a short time, well then
so be it. Roberto drifted into my mind, but I couldn’t seem to think of him as more than a close friend. Hard as I tried, I couldn’t summon up the same twisting and turning sensation I’d get whenever I saw Andrew. My stomach would contract, my foot would bounce, and my muscles seemed to tingle around him.

With Roberto
I felt safe, privileged even, and special. I couldn’t say it was love, or even a deep connection. I felt confident I’d been clear with him that we were just going on casual dates, not an actual couple. I didn’t feel bad about still meeting up with Andrew. If I ever got serious with one I’d let the other know and back off, but until then I figured I’d let the chips fall where they may.

Chapter
Twenty Six

A few bottles of wine later, our
motley trio arrived at Old Fashioned ready to tear up the dance floor. As we made our way through the crowd, checked our coats and looked for a bartender other than Giuseppe, I kept an eye out for Andrew. I didn’t see him or any of his crew yet, but it was early still, only a few minutes past midnight. We secured our first drink, and headed outside to enjoy the beverage. On the way out, I saw him squeezing between two giggling Italian girls, headed in my direction.

He seemed to
become cuter by the day – though I’d never tell
him
that. His curly hair was shorter than when we first arrived, and it gave him a boyish look that I found very appealing. He was quick to smile tonight, and I realized one of my favorite parts about him was that unlike Roberto, he wasn’t afraid to laugh.
Really
laugh.

He had
a deep, belly laugh that starts in the pit of your diaphragm and bubbles around until slowly it erupts, contagious. I found myself trying to make Andrew smile more and more just to hear that laugh.

He wasn’t boyish, however, in hi
s build. He was strong and sexy in an athletic way. His shoulders were broad and defined from years of swimming, his chest was smooth and sculpted, and he stood a few inches above me at six foot one. His expansive upper body tapered to a smaller waist with visible abs.

I briefly wondered how I had missed these observations upon first impression, but shook my head and headed over to say hi. I hugged
Andrew, and he gripped me back, his arms securing me in a vice like hold. I waved the other girls off to do their thing, and followed Andrew to the bar, his friends in tow. We all made small talk while at the bar, but after everyone had a drink in hand, Andrew and I moved to a quieter corner.

“How’s life with the kiddos?” I asked
, sipping my second drink. The bartender had clumsily spilled my first, all down my dress. Andrew had recently taken a one-day-a week job watching two little Italian boys.

“It’s, uh, it’s,” he sipped his drink for a moment. “Trying.”

I laughed.

“For example, today I was trying to help Leonardo with his homework. He’s six, but cried for an hour and a half when I asked him to write out two plus four. Then, he got it wrong.” Andrew paused, and I could see his hair was more rumpled than usual.
He grated a hand through his curls. “Then he got it wrong and asked me for a rubber.”

“What?” I had been halfway through my drink, and let the liquid seep back into the cup
through my teeth as I snorted in laughter. “Was he serious? Italy starts them young, I guess.”

“That wa
s my thought, too. I told him he was too young, but he ran off and got his mom.”

I prompted him to continue by waving my straw like a wan
d. He brushed a fleck of water out of his eye and continued, “She told me to give it to him.”

“She did not.”

“Yes, she did. So, I go to reach into my wallet, and when she sees what I’m about to pull out, she smacks me on the cheek.”

“I’m lost,” I said.

“The mom pointed to the kid’s eraser. How am I supposed to know a rubber means an eraser?”

“Oh, boy…”

“Yeah. You think I’d be fired, right?”

“I’m sorry,” I reach a hand to his shoulder.

“
No
, she asked me to come back three days a week because they like me so much!” Andrew shrugged my hand off his shoulder. “I can’t handle that!”

I was
so occupied with laughter that I couldn’t bother to offer any sympathy. He waited while my convulsions slowed, and just as I regained my composure he burst out into peals of laughter. We were off; neither of us could stop wheezing for a full five minutes. Through watery eyes, I reached a hand up and patted his cheek.

“You’re sweet,” I said. “I’m sure you’re great with them.”

I led him out onto the dance floor, where I wrapped my arms around his neck and melted into his body. He felt good against me, and I let him know with a whisper in his ear. He murmured in agreement, and we moved to the pulsating music together. As crowded as it was on the dance floor, it seemed as if Andrew and I were locked into our private world. I closed my eyes, was oblivious to everything but Andrew and the beat of the music.

I have no idea how long we danced like this,
as neither of us wanted to break the trance. I peeked my eyes open at the end of a slow song, and saw Emilia grinning in our direction. She gave a not-subtle-at all thumbs up in our direction, and I recalled her term for our dance move. Emilia had declared me a competent barnacle dancer. I looked up to share the story, but a questioning glint in Andrew’s eye stopped me.

“How’s Roberto?” he asked, looking over my shoulder and drawing my head in tighter.

“Now who’s jealous?” I pulled back to catch a better glimpse of his eye.

“That girl who st
ayed with me.” He paused as the song changed and the room quieted. “We didn’t do anything. She’s my best friend’s ex-girlfriend. We’d never do anything because of that, we’re really just friends. They’re trying to get back together.”

“Okay,” I said leaning into him once more. “Alright, fine. I’ll admit it, I was a little jealous.”

“I’m sorry, I know its mean, but I was hoping to make you jealous.”

“What? Why on earth would you do that?” I gave him a harmless swat on the shoulder, trying to decide if I should be upset or flattered.

“You’re not good at telling people how you feel, so I figured, I’d see if you were jealous if I had another girl. I saw you were, and…”

Andrew shrugged. I remembered my mantra; don’t take things so seriously,
go with the flow
.

“It’s those damn dance moves of yours,” I said smiling. “Emilia’s coined a term for it, you know.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows.

“She says I’m a barnacle dancer with you.”

“Is that a real thing?”

“No, she made it up. Apparently when I dance with you, I get
a-” I gave air quotes, realizing too late he couldn’t see them with my arms wrapped around his neck.

“These are Emilia’s words,” I mimicked her polite tone. “Apparently, I get a
shit-eating grin on my face and grip onto your shoulders for dear life – hence the name barnacle. Then I just hang onto you and sway to the music.”

Andrew smirked, but didn’t look displeased. I gripped him tighter for exaggeration, and leaned up to
compliment his barnacle dancing abilities, but the words didn’t make it out.

A sudden dizziness swept through my body. I wiped perspiration from my brow,
was I sweating more than usual?
The disco lights no longer seemed to flicker with the promise of dancing and fun. Instead, they made my eyes cross, the floor difficult to stand on. I reached out for Andrew. I just wanted to sit still, collapse on a couch somewhere. My face felt wet.
Tears?

T
he room started to spin.

Chapter
Twenty Seven

My eyes sho
t open. I tried to sit up, but my body felt Velcro-ed to the fabric. I lay still for a moment, disoriented, and tried to place my surroundings. Why did I feel so terrible? Try as I might, I couldn’t summon any moisture to my mouth to speak aloud. Where was I? Even more disturbing – how did I get here?

My stomach rolled
. I was unpleasantly close to vomiting. I then had the irrational fear that I was going to be late to class. I felt frantic; if I didn’t get up now I wouldn’t make it! I tried to move, but realized I still wasn’t sure whose couch I was on. My mind was a mess. It felt like someone had shoved the contents of my brain into a paint mixer and turned the speed on high until the contents were unrecognizable.

Slowly, t
he furniture came into focus, and I recognized Andrew’s living room with a gushing exhale of relief. I looked around, attempting to move my head as little as possible, and saw a figure on the floor near the couch where I was laid up. I saw the wisps of curls peeking out onto a makeshift pillow, a college sweatshirt upon closer inspection, and knew it was Andrew.

I was confused. I’d been drunk before, painfully intoxicated, complete with blocks of time diminished into nothing more than fuzzy snapshots, but this was completely different. I felt disgusted, violated even, by what I didn’t know. I tried, concentrating, but couldn’t remember a single thing. Last night was just, gone. To see Andrew lying on the floor near me was such a relief.

Suddenly, the urge to vomit was too strong to ignore. I ran to the bathroom and deposited
all contents of my stomach into the toilet. I took an extra toothbrush I found in the cupboard and scrubbed my mouth like there was no tomorrow. I then rinsed with mouth wash and repeated. I tossed the toothbrush in the trash and emerged feeling empty inside. At least my mouth felt minty. Andrew stirred and rolled over. I hoped my retching noises hadn’t awoken him.

I shifted my weight, leaning onto the railing of the staircase.

Andrew stood, putting a finger to his temple as if steadying himself. “How are you? How do you feel?”

“I’m fine,” I said as my voice cracked.

“Maybe you should sit,” Andrew called my bluff.

I sat.
“What happened?”

“That’s what I wanted to ask you
.”

I shrugged, clueless.

“The last thing I remember is finishing our drinks and dancing together.” I paused in thought, “there was something I wanted to tell you. But that’s where I lost it. I don’t remember anything after that, there’s just a … hole.”

“What were you going to say?”

“I don’t remember,” I said, my voice raising a touch. “If I did, I wouldn’t be trying to piece everything together.”

“How much did you drink before you got to the club?”

I looked at Andrew a bit sharper than I intended. “You think I tried to do this?”

“No,” he said. “But if you had an empty stomach, the drinks are made pretty strong…”

“I only had a glass of wine or two, spread out over the afternoon.” I ticked my fingers at each mention of a drink, counting.

“I wasn’t even
tipsy when we got there. Plus, I had a filling dinner. I had only the drink that you saw – one invisibile. That shouldn’t be enough to do this. I usually have at least two club drinks plus whatever before.”

Andrew
looked confused. “That’s not true. You got a little weird while we were dancing, but when I took you over to sit down, you seemed better. So I let you go wash up in the bathroom. When you came back you had another drink three fourths of the way gone.”

I had been shaking my head while
Andrew spoke. “No, I said. That’s not possible. I only had one drink. I don’t remember buying anything else.”

“Do you remember your bartender?”
Andrew asked.

“Why? You don’t think…” I breathed a sharp intake of air.

“What is it?” Andrew asked.

“It wasn’t the bartender,” I said in a moment of clarity. “There was a man, Italian, next to me when I ordered
my drink. The type with the slicked hair, button down shirt left open so you could see chest hair.”

I shuddered. “As the bartender handed me my drink
, the Italian knocked into me and insisted on buying a replacement. I turned around for a second to tell Megan I’d meet her outside.”

I closed my eyes
as a snapshot of the night filled a slot on an otherwise empty photo album. There was a cab, and I was crying, terrified, reaching for someone. Who? I couldn’t place the person. The cab door opened, I didn’t want to get in…

“How did I get here?” I asked.

For the first time, Andrew looked uncomfortable. “A cab. We took a cab.”

“
Megan, Emilia, where are they?”

“They’re fine, they went home.
” Andrew said as I reached for my phone. “They also know you’re with me.”

“We didn’t…” I gestured rapidly between us with my hands. I couldn’t say it.

“Of course not.”

“Thank you,” I said. My voice was a quiet surrender
. “For everything.”

Andrew
leaned in and put his hand on my cheek, wiping away some flyaway hair. “Anyone would have done it.”

I threw my arms around his shoulders and clung to him. The reality of what would’ve happened if
Andrew hadn’t been there was hit me like a cement truck. Best case scenario, he made a terrible situation bearable. Thank you didn’t seem like enough.

I kissed him on the neck, the sensitive spot between the top of the shoulder and under your chin. He shuddered, but didn’t let go. I moved my kisses towards his mouth, slowly yet deliberately. Maybe the circumstances
clouded my judgment, but I knew exactly what I wanted. No words I could string together could say what I wanted to express, to thank Andrew and voice the emotional rollercoaster whizzing around in my brain. So, I showed him my gratitude the only way I knew how.

“Hey, slow down,” he
halted my plans. “You’re still sick. This is a big deal.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I said continuing to kiss his neck, his shoulders, lightly running my hands up his bare chest, just how he liked it.
As I had hoped, he didn’t protest for long. He followed me up to his bedroom, his hand perched dangerously low on my back.