Intoxicated (13 page)

“I guess I have. At least I’ve gotten over
it, for the most part. I ignored him all weekend. Once he sent the
flowers this morning, I decided to be the bigger person and text
him. I’m going down to Indy for the weekend. He promised me no
work.”

“And you believe him?”

“I seriously doubt he’d do the same thing
twice in a row. Besides, I have a key to his place. If he ditches
me, I’ll just trash his condo and go out with my friends.” I smiled
wickedly.

“Promise me that you’ll call me if you do
trash his place. I’d be glad to come down and help. It kind of
sounds like fun.”

“He’s really not that bad. I was just upset
on Saturday because he waited until the last minute to bail on me.
I’m sorry that you had to deal with it. I hope you didn’t miss out
on anything important; I know you canceled your plans.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t going to
leave you alone like that. And I canceled on my best friend. It’s
not like he’ll never forgive me for it.”

I remembered back to Blake’s description of
her ex. I was pretty sure that guy and the friend that Matthew
called on Saturday night were one and the same. I wondered if I
should press the issue. I quickly decided to bite my tongue and
keep quiet. There was no reason, other than my own curiosity, to
ask about this mystery man. If Blake wanted to tell me, she would.
Likewise for Matthew.

“Thanks for staying with me. I didn’t mean to
fall asleep.”

“You were exhausted. You don’t need to
apologize. I ended up falling asleep, too.”

“Yeah, Blake told me on Sunday. I bet she was
surprised when she came back home.”

He shrugged. “Blake’s seen lots of things.
She doesn’t shock easily.”

I smiled sadly. “At any rate, I appreciate
what you did. It amazes me that someone like you is still
single.”

“Not everyone is as open-minded as you are.
And I could turn the tables on you and say that I can’t believe
anyone whose boyfriend ditches her is still with him.”

“Point well taken.”

Slightly embarrassed, l looked down at my
hands. I turned them over and over in my lap. Matthew reached over
and placed his hand over them, effectively stopping their
movement.

“I’m not one to be judging others,” he said
softly.

His hand remained on mine. My heart
accelerated; I had to force myself to breathe. His skin burnt mine
in the most pleasurable of ways. My cheeks flushed with color. I
wondered if the electricity I felt passed into his body as well. I
knew that I should pull my hand away, but it was frozen in place.
Instead, I stared ahead until my vision blurred.

“I can’t imagine what you went through,” I
breathed. I doubted I could have spoken louder even if I had
tried.

“Due to my own stupidity. I don’t deserve any
sympathy.”

“It doesn’t make you a bad person. Everyone
makes mistakes.”

“But I could have hurt someone. Or even
killed someone. You don’t need me to explain that to you; you lived
it.”

“It’s ancient history, Matthew. And it’s not
your fault. I won’t blame you for something someone else did
twenty-four years ago. You don’t have to repent for every drunk
driver who ever walked the earth.”

“My own parents hate me, Lauren. Why don’t
you?”

“Because you have been nothing but kind to
me, even before we realized that there might be a problem. Your
kindness isn’t an act. You are a wonderful person, and anyone who
doesn’t see that is an idiot.”

It wasn’t the most intelligently worded
explanation ever, but I had made my point.

“Don’t you ever get mad about it? Or wonder
why it happened to you? To your dad?”

“I’d be lying if I said I never had those
days where I felt like the world was out to get me. But everyone
does, even those people who haven’t gone through the kind of stuff
we have. To be honest with you, I had a pretty good childhood. My
father is an excellent parent. I’m really lucky in that
regard.”

He nodded. “Yes, you are. I mean, I’ve never
met the guy, but anyone that can raise a daughter like you deserves
to be commended.”

Here was my chance. He had provided me with
the perfect lead-in to tell him about my plans for Thanksgiving. I
closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, slowly releasing my breath.

“I think you should meet him,” I began.

His hand, still perched on top of mine,
tensed immediately. Instinctively, I withdrew mine and switched
positions, squeezing his in the process. I rubbed the palm of his
hand with my thumb absentmindedly as I paused to let my words sink
in.

“You know,” I continued, “before we found all
of this stuff out about each other, I wanted to get everyone
together for Thanksgiving. Sort of a way to introduce everyone in
my life to each other. I thought that maybe that would make things
easier to swallow for some people. To at least be able to be in the
same room with one another; you know, to put a face with a name.
Now, I think everybody meeting up is more important than ever.”

Matthew was silent for a long time. I
continued rubbing his palm, enjoying the feeling of his skin
beneath mine. The electricity was still there, only now more of a
minor shock instead of the initial jolt. He didn’t recoil from my
touch, instead choosing to stare ahead blankly. His eyes closed in
an attempt to clear his mind. He took several deep breaths to calm
himself before speaking.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. He looked so
conflicted, so filled with pain that it twisted my stomach.

“Not everyone is like your parents,” I
pressed on, very aware that I may be overstepping my bounds. “You
can’t let that hold you back forever.”

“As interesting as it sounds, discussing my
incarceration is not an appropriate Thanksgiving dinner topic. And
it doesn’t exactly win over new friends or acquaintances.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said
defensively, “I just think that if you met some more people who
weren’t judgmental about it, you would have an easier time coming
to terms with it.”

“And how so? Are you going to introduce me as
your roommate’s brother slash ex-felon? Or are we not going to
mention it until the end of the evening? You know, maybe lie to
everyone and then pull out the shocking revelation. See, even
drunks can have intelligent conversations and be nice people?”

My eyes burned with tears. I was the one who
broke contact, pulling my hand away like it was on fire. Matthew
removed his hand from my leg, running it through his messy hair. I
wiped away the unwanted moisture with the back of my hand. This was
not going how I had intended. I wished that Blake was here. I was
certain that she would know the right way to diffuse the
situation.

“I wanted to talk to my dad about you
beforehand. You wouldn’t have to tell him anything. He would
already know when he met you. I wanted to help prove to you that
not everyone hates you for what you’ve done.”

“Too late. I already hate myself. I don’t
understand anyone who doesn’t. Not Blake. Not my best friend. Not
you.”

“Oh, Matthew,” I breathed, “I’m so
sorry.”

He shrugged. “For what?”

“For what happened to you.”

“For what I did to myself? Don’t be. It’s not
up to you to make it better. It will never be better. I will have
to live with what I have done forever.”

“True. But it doesn’t have to define who you
are, either. Even knowing what I know now, when I look at you, I
don’t see that picture of you in the paper where you’re being led
away in handcuffs. I just see you. Honestly, when you look at me,
do you think about my mom dying when I was two? Do you try to
imagine what I looked like as a toddler, or do you just see
me?”

“I see you,” he said softly.

“Exactly. If you are not willing to put
things behind you, how can you expect anyone else to? You have to
move on. You paid for what you did. Yes, it was stupid on your
part. But it could have been a whole lot worse. And you came out on
the other side of it. You have so many good things going for you,
but you lose sight of all that. Yes, some people are not going to
like you for your past. But others will.”

“Lightning doesn’t tend to strike twice in
the same place. What makes you think your dad will like me?”

“Let’s see. I’ve known him my whole life
maybe? I think it would be therapeutic to talk to him. If you can
connect with him, of all people, then maybe you can get past this.
I’m not saying you have to forget it, but at least attempt to
forgive yourself.”

His hand ran through his hair again, a
nervous reaction for sure. I could practically see the wheels
turning in his head as he contemplated my proposal.

“Fine,” he said finally, “I will meet your
dad, and the boyfriend, and whoever else you want to parade in
front of me. But you have to tell them ahead of time and not
pressure them into coming if they don’t want to.”

“Good. I might have already told Eric.”

“You told the boyfriend?” he asked
incredulously. Thankfully, he didn’t seem mad.

I still looked up at him guiltily. “I’m
sorry. It was the night that Blake told me. You and I had just
texted a couple times. Eric called right after, and I answered the
phone, thinking it was you. I rattled off this long tirade about
how your arrests didn’t matter to me before I realized who it was
on the other end.”

He snorted. “And how did that go?”

“I had a bit of explaining to do. After the
initial shock of it had worn off, though, I think he’s okay. But if
he mentions you refinancing your house, just go along with it.”

“Oh, great. The boyfriend’s really going to
love me now.”

I doubted that there was any real chance of
that ever happening. However, I chose to keep this sentiment to
myself.

Friday afternoon seemed to drag even more so
than normal. The eagerness to get the weekend started was shared by
my staff. Even though we were still swamped with a record number of
mortgage applications, time stood still. I kept having to reread
entire paragraphs of emails, finding I had reached the end of them
without comprehending any meaning. About four-thirty, I conceded
defeat and called my team into my office for an informal meeting.
Once the door had been shut, we accomplished nothing but chatting
about our upcoming weekend plans. This effectively killed fifteen
minutes of time, allowing them the opportunity to return to their
desks to wrap up any loose ends.

At five, I pushed back my chair and rose from
my desk. I had brought a change of clothes in with me, and
retreated to the ladies room to get dressed. A couple people looked
twice at me, shocked that I was leaving with everyone else. In the
few short weeks that I had been employed at this location, I had
earned the reputation of burning the midnight oil. I was more than
entitled to duck out at a traditional quitting time once in a
while.

Knowing that Eric would be dressed in his
ever present uniform of khakis and a polo shirt, I had selected a
pair of dark black jeans and a light gray, cable knit sweater. Good
for traveling, since I still had a two hour drive ahead of me;
maybe more depending on traffic. I would still look presentable
when I showed up at his door.

We had texted each other this morning to
finalize details of my arrival. Due to the late hour of me getting
there, we had agreed that we wouldn’t go out tonight. Instead, we’d
have dinner at his place and relax. There would be time for
sightseeing and going out Saturday and early Sunday. How ironic
that I would be like a tourist in my own hometown.

As I made the drive to downtown Indianapolis,
I rehearsed in my mind how I wanted to approach Eric’s Thanksgiving
dinner invitation. I hadn’t yet spoken to him about it; I figured
that I would be better off doing it in person. Since he already
knew of Matthew’s legal troubles, I wouldn’t have to share that
part of the story with him. I may, however, have to do a little to
smooth things over.

My conversation with my father had gone quite
well. Even though I had outwardly expressed my confidence at his
being accepting of my new friend, inside I had harbored a small
amount of doubt. My father didn’t speak about the accident much;
whether that was from time being able to heal the majority of his
wounds or because it still hurt too much, I wasn’t certain.
Obviously, his connection to my mother had been of a completely
different intensity than mine. I couldn’t imagine losing Eric the
way he had lost her. I doubted I would ever be the same.

With trepidation, I had described Matthew’s
past. A couple times I had asked if he was still on the other end;
he was so silent. Once I had finished my recap of events, he had
taken a deep breath and confirmed his beliefs were very similar to
my own. He had graciously accepted my invitation to dinner,
expressing his excitement at seeing my new home. I had demurred at
that point, not sure if dinner would really be held at Blake’s. She
was fairly adamant about having the event at Matthew’s and I hadn’t
felt confident enough to broach that subject with him. I would
leave that to her. I promised to give him a call closer to the date
and give him the address and driving directions. This worked out in
more than one way: first, I could bide my time and wait for Blake
to set up everything with her brother and second, I had absolutely
no clue where Matthew lived anyway. As of yet, I had never ventured
to his home. I only knew that it wasn’t that far away from
Blake’s.

I still had a hard time referring to Blake’s
house as my place. It just seemed wrong, like I shouldn’t profess
ownership of something that wasn’t really mine. All I did was rent
a room there. Renting in someone else’s home was completely
different than leasing an apartment or even an otherwise unoccupied
house. Even though in theory it was the same thing, it was still a
very clear distinction in my mind. The novelty hadn’t yet worn off;
at times, it still felt like a really long slumber party.