Hag Night (53 page)

Doreen shook her head and tried to crane away from Katy gently patting her cheek.

“No. Thanks. I’m fine. I just need to sit down for a minute.”

The adrenaline rush was already subsiding.

Jessie eyed her skeptically. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’m fine,” she snapped. “Just give me a minute.”

Jessie and Lindsey joined the boyfriends out in the hallway. Katy stayed behind and touched a cold washcloth to Doreen’s head. It only made her feel sicker and much more uncomfortable.

“Stop. I’m fine.”

Katy withdrew like she’d burned her hand.

“Shit, Reen. Fine. I was just trying to help.”  She rose from her crouch and smoothed out her skirt. “Not like you can take care of yourself,” she muttered.

“That’s nice.”

“Well, obviously you can’t. Can’t even drive yourself home.”

Doreen glared at her but said nothing while Katy walked out. She supposed she was right.

Once Katy was out in the hallway, Doreen leaned over and pushed the door closed. There was no lock but she figured she’d have privacy as long as Katy had them all enthralled with ‘the horrible thing(s) the ungrateful bitch’ had said to her. Besides, she still had enough sheer hatred left to prop against the door and keep them from pushing it open. She may not have had the energy to get up and get her own water, but she had all the hell-fire desperation inside of her that living a dime away from death gives to the weary when they feel threatened.

They were talking about her right outside the bathroom door again. She heard the exaggerated gasps of incredulity from Lindsey and Jessie, the irritated scoffs of the boyfriends, the sound of footsteps pounding the carpet on the second floor.  That was okay, though. Fuck all of them. She had plenty to worry about on her own.

Like where the hell Drew was.

They’d said he was already there, hadn’t they?  Where the hell was he?  Drew might have stuck up for her, at least. He would have come in, brushed her hair out of her eyes, and whispered that everything was going to be all right. Or maybe he’d come in with some little doctors and help her fly away from her troubles. He’d never been much for consoling, but when it involved excess, he was sincerely sympathetic, downright kind. And either way, he was a hell of a lot better than the prude bitches in the hallway (excluding Jessie the Junkie, of course).

She groaned.

Her traitor stomach was acting up again.

Settle down. Don’t get anxious. You don’t have anything here to keep your mind off of them.

Her hands began to shake.

You don’t have anything.

Nothing at all.

That couldn’t be right. Drew had given her the last of his share just before he left, and she wouldn’t have dropped in front of Katy. Maybe the others, because she didn’t care what they did or said and knew they didn’t have the balls to really push back against her on it. But not in front of Katy. Katy was almost as strong-willed as Doreen and believed she was twice as tough as the rest of the world knew her to be.

You don’t have anything.

Sure she did.

You don’t need anything.

Did anybody ever really need anything other than food and water?

Sleep. You could use some of that yourself.

Was that Katy’s voice inside of her head?

“Stop. Breathe.”

It was easier said than done. Breathing made her feel like vomiting again. No matter how hard she partied or how often, she never got used to the sensation that her organs were trying to force their way out through her mouth. It wasn’t exactly a comfortable feeling.

You don’t have anything and you don’t need anything.

I do and I do.

“Breathe.”

That was what she needed most, she realized, even if it made her feel sicker at first. Deep breaths. She needed to get her head about her again. She also needed to put on an act for the judgmental and concerned in the hallway or she’d never get what she wanted, which meant feigned repentance.

Breathe.

It was all rushing back.

She’d stuffed the little doctors in her purse on her way out and stuffed the purse behind her when she was in the car so Katy wouldn’t find an excuse to look inside of it. She hadn’t brought either one in with her, afraid that someone would spot the drugs and steal them either for themselves or as a preventative measure. She didn’t know what kind of people would be at the party. You could never be too careful in a room full of strangers ... or friends.

Now, more than anything, she wished that she’d figured out a way to smuggle them in. If she were sober, she would have just asked for the keys to the car and went to retrieve the purse, but she was too worried that it would look suspicious. She didn’t want Katy to know for sure that she was still using, and she didn’t trust herself to play it cool.  

“Breathe,” she moaned.

Breathe.

She needed to get out to the car.

That meant having a plan.

Okay, she thought. I can do that.

She would rise and act as normal as she could even though her hands were trembling and her head felt like it was expanding faster than the sea at high tide. She would play into their game as long as it took to either find an excuse to get back out to the car or until they bored of their juvenile party scene and decided to call it a night. Wasn’t it late enough already?

Panic rose in her belly and she quelled it with that magic word.

Breathe.

It was all just a symptom of something greater. Some greater tragedy unfolding in her life. Something like the presence of Drew, both sad and exhilarating.

“Breathe.”

A voice on the other side of the door, closer than the others.

She would win them over. She would soothe them the way she always did, maybe break down and tell them that she needed their help and that she hadn’t been the same since they’d fallen out of touch. She’d convince them that she was ready to turn over a new leaf and move on to the greater purpose in her life.

And then she’d get the fuck out to the car and drop. And then she’d call Drew and he’d come to pick her up. And then the two of them would go back to his apartment and either pass out or make awkward, dazed love to each other until they forgot what they were doing.

Breathe.

That was all.

Breathe, and everything would be okay.

“ ... Doreen?  Are you all right?”

She swallowed and stared at the sailboat wallpaper. It was strange to her that paper could reflect the light over the sink.

“Reen?”

Rather than answering, she leaned over and pulled the door back open.

Lindsey.

“Are you all right?” she asked warily.

They both were silent for a moment, and then Doreen laughed. It was a mistake. She nearly lost her stomach again before she realized her error and sobered back up.

“No. I’m not all right. But thanks for asking.”

Lindsey’s brow furrowed and she chuckled uncertainly.  She wasn’t sure whether to laugh along with Doreen or pity her. 

For Doreen, it didn’t matter either way. Let them keep their pity, their jealousy, their concern, and their regret. They could choke on it for all she cared. The way they looked at her. The way they whispered about her. The way they were happy together and happy judging everyone else around them who hadn’t reached the heights of perfection they embodied.

Fuck ‘em all.

“I think I can stand up, though,” Doreen smiled weakly, playing on Lindsey’s pre-conceived desire to pull a wayward soul out from the depths of her despair. “Can you help me?”

Lindsey rushed over and nodded emphatically like Doreen knew she would. “Yeah!  What do you need me to do?”

“Just give me your arm and help pull me up. I think I bruised my tailbone or something tonight.”

That part was true, at least, though she was reasonably sure it had more to do with sitting on her purse at an uncomfortable angle than any drunken spills she’d taken during the course of the night. She couldn’t really say either way because some hours at the club were still a little bit hazy.

“Okay, ready?” Lindsey said.

Katy appeared around the corner. She had her arms crossed over her breasts and a distrusting frown, but she obviously was intrigued enough to come and investigate. God forbid someone else get the credit for saving her little project before she’d broken through and earned another one of her many free passes through St. Peter’s gate.

Between Doreen’s determination to catch the others off of their guard and Lindsey’s naïve desire to make her friend’s life better, they were able to get her to her feet without incident. Katy watched from the doorway until she was all the way up and struggling to maintain her balance, and then she swooped in to the rescue with a reassuring hand and a sincere apology.

“Sorry, Reen,” she said. “I wasn’t trying to be a bitch.  I was just trying to help.”

Doreen wrapped one arm around Katy’s shoulder.

“No, I was a total bitch. I’m sorry.”  She held her breath and stared at her reflection over Katy’s shoulder. She would need to do better than that. “I’m just embarrassed that I made an ass out of myself tonight. I get weird when I puke in front of people, especially girls I just met. I feel vulnerable or something.”

Katy smiled with tears cresting the corner of her eyelids.

“You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Seriously.  We’ve all been there,” she laughed.

Doreen was sure to join in and Lindsey followed soon after.

Little girl, you can’t even imagine the places I’ve been, a voice chuckled in her head.

“Let’s go upstairs,” Katy said.

FOUR

Ever since they were little girls, Doreen and Katy had had a very conflicted relationship. They were overly competitive with each other in passive-aggressive ways. They masked insults with surface compliments, they suggested diets or hair treatments, they loved each other to death, and they fought (covertly) over other boys and girls.

Still, they were inseparable.

The adults who’d watched them grow up together agreed they were the most bizarre best friends any of them had ever seen. They were rarely alone together but there was no question that they were inseparable. There was always a third girl in with them as a buffer, but that girl had changed frequently. Lindsey currently held that position and had done so for longer than anyone before her, but that had more to do with timing than anything else. She’d been swept into their group right around the time that Doreen and Katy started dating, and after that, their attention was too divided to worry about rotating in some fresh blood. 

The third girl was used as a measuring stick. They gauged their self-worth on the attention she devoted to one them in comparison to the other, and this deranged self-esteem barometer bred a viciously cruel sort of game between them. 

Doreen would turn any situation around to make it seem like Katy was being a terrible friend to the naïve third girl (in this case, Lindsey), and Katy would likewise infer that Doreen was spreading lies about everyone or that she was really a slut when you got right down to it. They never dared say these things to each others’ face, but the third party got an earful of it at all hours of the day and night.

High school had been a trying experience for them. It was difficult to maintain their bizarre relationship as their interests changed, and then they had to re-evaluate what their friendship would mean once they parted ways for college. It got worse when boyfriends were thrown into the mix. Katy dated the strong, silent types who ate from her hand and listened to every word she said as though it were the dying words of Jesus Christ. Doreen habitually dated boys who gave her a lot of push back. They were usually in varying degrees of trouble with the law (what a cliché that was) and her mother never approved of a single one. Neither did Katy. But that was what Doreen loved about them above all else.

When Doreen moved away to school in East Lansing and Katy began commuting to the local university, it had been a tremendous shot to Katy’s ego. No one wants to be left behind in the same room on the same street dating the same boy, especially while your friend is off having new adventures: one night stands, drunken arrests, freedom, etc.

But then the drugs had started, and that made everything better as far as Katy was concerned.

Well, maybe not better. That would imply that she consciously held some ill will towards her best and oldest friend. And if there was any malicious intent hidden in Katy’s concern for Doreen’s wellbeing, it was strictly on a subconscious level.

Still, she couldn’t deny that it made her feel better about herself to think of Doreen wasting away in some dirty dorm room in East Lansing, chasing after a boy who was neither respectable nor capable of loving Doreen with even a fraction of the fervor he reserved for himself and his designer highs. She couldn’t deny that she loved the feeling of forced pity she had whenever she spoke of Doreen in conspiring whispers with their mutual friends and concerned parents. Blake’s predictability and selflessness were infinitely more endearing when compared to the blatant lack of respect Drew had for Doreen.