Intoxicated (30 page)

“So fast forward a few months and Matthew and
Chris get invited to this huge party. Since I’m Chris’s girlfriend
I come along, even though I’m underage. Matthew’s girl of the month
comes too. They have hit a rough patch, and they are already
starting to fight on the way there. Matthew’s license is still
suspended, so Chris is driving us all. We get to the party and one
of the hosts takes Chris’s keys. It’s an all-nighter, and people
are getting trashed.

“Even though it’s incredibly stupid to do so,
we all start drinking. Obviously, it’s illegal for me to have
alcohol, and Matthew’s on probation. But since we’re staying the
night, no one will be wiser in the morning, right? Our parents are
pretty lax; they could care less where we are as long as we come
home in one piece and don’t get into trouble. Chris is like
super-boyfriend, they trust him immensely and don’t mind that I’m
out all night with him.”

Blake paused to take a breath. It was amazing
how talkative she had become. Depression seemed to be a truth serum
of sorts for her. I nodded, urging her to continue.

“A couple hours later, we are all severely
drunk. Chris and I are having a good time. Matthew and his date
have disappeared. Turns out they’ve gotten into a pretty ugly
fight, and she’s walked out on him. Matthew gets pissed off and he
goes after her. Word gets back to us what’s happened, and at first,
we don’t think anything of it. We figure he’s right outside, no big
deal. Then we realize that Matthew still has keys to Chris’s car –
it used to be mine, but my dad sold it when I got the Mercedes.
Sure enough, he’s taken off in the car.

“Obviously, you know the rest. Matthew gets
pulled over and taken to jail, and this time it’s not pretty. My
dad is beyond mad, and he disowns him. I can’t turn my back on my
brother, so I get the same treatment. Luckily, by that time,
Matthew has bought the house he lives in now, and I move in
there.”

“And this is why you hate Christmas?” I
asked, confused. Sure, I’m grateful for the dialogue, but it
doesn’t make enough sense to denounce an entire holiday.

“That’s the backstory. So, about this time of
year, I move out of my parents’ mini mansion into Matthew’s house.
Let’s just say it’s not in the same condition now as it was then.
He bought it dirt cheap as a foreclosure with the intention of
fixing it up room by room. It was a roof over my head, and not much
else. I guess there was running water and heat and all the
important stuff, but it was a major reality check. And the Mercedes
was gone, too, parked at my parents’. I used the money in my
savings to buy a used Cavalier.

“Gone were the days of a family Christmas. It
was like Matthew and I never existed, and I had never been more
alone in my life.”

She stretched her long limbs, effectively
ending the tale. Still, I waited. When the silence became too much
to bear, I decided to ask the million dollar question.

“So what about Chris?”

For a moment, I was afraid that she wouldn’t
answer. Her eyes glazed over with tears, and I knew I had struck a
nerve. All that exposition hadn’t gotten to the heart of the
matter, and she was painfully aware that I knew it.

She sighed deeply before continuing. “I was
so mad, Lauren. So angry at myself, my parents, anyone but Matthew.
And I know now that I was wrong. As much as I love my brother, he
made some really stupid decisions, and he should have paid for
them. In a way, he got what he deserved. But then, I assigned that
blame to Chris.”

“Why?” I inquired, totally confused.

She shook her head sadly. “I was pissed off
at him because he didn’t try to stop Matthew. Once I thought about
it, it made sense to me why he didn’t. If we all would have been
stumbling around in the night, we might have all gotten caught. He
was trying to protect me, but I didn’t see it that way. I had
expected him to be the knight in shining armor swooping in to save
the day, and he didn’t.

“For a while, he tried to look after me. I
could tell he felt bad. But I pushed him away. I couldn’t look at
him anymore without hating him for what had happened that night. It
was unfair and stupid, and I ended up losing everyone that ever
loved me in the span of about six weeks.”

“But Matthew wasn’t gone. He just wasn’t with
you.”

“I know. But every night I would go to bed in
his old crappy house by myself and think of him all alone in jail.
I visited him every chance I could, but I don’t have to explain to
you why that’s not the same. With Chris out of the picture, I
turned the blame inwardly on myself. And truth be told, Chris was
never truly gone. I just never saw him anymore. He would come over
and mow the grass when I wasn’t there. He made sure that if there
was something that went wrong in the house, like a leaky faucet,
that either he fixed it or that people magically appeared to fix it
for me. I’m sure that he meant for it to be a protective gesture,
or he felt he owed it to me, but to me it just felt like him
twisting the knife a little deeper.”

Lost in her memory, a tear slid down her
cheek. I passed her another tissue. “Thanks. The last thing I ever
said to him was that I hated him and I wished he would rot in
hell.”

“Oh, Blake,” I whispered as she dissolved
into sobs. I reached for her, and she let me embrace her. Being a
sympathetic crier myself, tears threatened to spill over my cheeks
as well.

“No wonder he hates me,” she choked into my
shoulder. “I am a horrible person.”

“No,” I soothed, “you’re not a horrible
person.”

“I am. It’s like a freaking divorce. He’s
still friends with Matthew, you know. And when they’re together, I
can’t be there. That’s a big reason why I ended up getting this
place. It was too uncomfortable walking around on eggshells all the
time. Matthew couldn’t have his best friend over because I was
there. They always had to find somewhere to go, or go over to
Chris’s place. I was the third wheel and I hated it.”

“Did you ever try talking to him about
it?”

She pulled away and stared at me like I was
crazy.

“I’ll take that as a no. Maybe you
should.”

“Are you shitting me? He hates me. And he has
every right to. I broke his heart and trampled it. I was angry and
scared and alone and I took it out on him. I was stupid and mean
and I deserve every bad thing that happens to me because of it. He
was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I ruined it.”

I took a deep breath, my head spinning. I
wanted to tell her that I suspected differently, but that would
open a whole other can of worms. When I had told her the story of
my old tired Honda and how I had gotten home that fateful night, I
had conveniently neglected to mention that Chris was a part of it.
At the time it had seemed like the right thing to do. I had
mentioned my omission to Matthew lest he unintentionally bring it
up, and he had agreed to go along with the story that he alone had
come to my rescue. Unless I could suddenly convince her that I was
psychic I would have to come clean in order to share my
impressions.

“What if I told you that he doesn’t hate
you?” I said finally. The truth had won out.

“Yeah, right, whatever,” she responded,
dabbing at her moist eyes with her sleeve.

“I think he has forgiven you long ago, if he
even was mad at you at all.”

“That’s really nice of you to say, but you
don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

“Blake, I mean it. The guy still drives your
old Civic and cares for it like it’s a classic car. I’ve seen it.
It’s endearing in a stalkerish sort of way.”

“What?”

The entire story came spilling out of my
mouth, and she sat in wide-eyed disbelief, listening. When I was
done, I apologized profusely for keeping secrets, but she just
stared at me. I waited for a reaction of any sort but got
nothing.

“Blake, you might have broken his heart, but
he also broke yours. You may have had unrealistic expectations when
it came to him, but when you love someone, that’s what happens. You
think that they are way more powerful than they really are. But he
was only human, and so are you. You both made a mistake. And you
are both still grieving for that innocence that you lost.”

“That sounds all nice and good, Lauren. I’m
glad that you believe that after spending like fifteen minutes with
him. I know you’re trying to make me feel better, and I appreciate
the gesture. But if he was really that distraught, don’t you think
he would have mentioned it to Matthew? Don’t you think they would
have planned some sort of intervention to make a discussion happen?
Don’t you think one night he would have worked up enough courage to
drunk dial me? I never changed my phone number. He knows where I
work and now where I live. He could ambush me and make me
listen.”

“Maybe he doesn’t think you want to hear it.
Maybe he’s afraid of rejection.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“Just consider it, please. It could be like a
New Year’s resolution. You don’t have to get back together or
anything, but you could at least bury the hatchet. It sounds like
he has been a good friend to your brother, and it would make things
a lot easier on that front.”

“Me buying my house made things a lot easier
on that front. I don’t know, Lauren. Sometimes it’s just easier to
let things die. And we died a long time ago. I’m not anywhere close
to the same person that I was. He might not be who he used to be.
Who’s to say that we wouldn’t bite each other’s heads off just on
general principles? It’s not high school anymore. We’re not two
adolescents who think they know what love is. Maybe it works for
you and Eric, but it’s not the answer for everyone. Maybe my high
school romance was just that, nothing more. A little something to
get misty eyed over now and again, but in the end of slight lasting
significance.”

I winced, uncertain that it was the answer
for me either. Her rebuttal had brought me to question my own
motives with Eric. Was I holding on to the past, afraid of
rejecting him because I didn’t want to be alone? Had we changed so
much that we were no longer who we were when we got together ten
years ago? Was that the reason that Eric never told me he loved me?
Did he not know if he did? Did I know?

Despite Blake’s apparent aversion to
Christmas, she never again breathed a word of her torment in the
weeks leading up to it. For this reason, and because of Matthew’s
insistence, I forged ahead with my idea of making her home a
tribute of sorts to the holiday. During lunch breaks I would make
trips to buy decorations, stashing them everywhere I could think of
that she wouldn’t look. Soon my trunk, my closet and my office at
work were filled with ornaments, tinsel, artificial wreaths and
multicolored twinkling lights.

The night before Christmas Eve, things had
all seemed to fall into place. George had all but shooed me out of
the office at five on the nose. Matthew had met me at a roadside
Christmas tree stand and dutifully tethered a six foot evergreen to
the roof of his Camry. He followed me home, unloaded the tree and
assisted me in setting it up. After an hour or so of helping, he
excused himself to attend to Blake.

Somehow he had been able to convince his
sister to spend the night at his place. I hadn’t asked him how, but
I was eternally grateful. I wanted her to walk into the house on
Christmas Eve and be completely shocked. In a good way, of course.
I might not have her formal training, but Christmas was one thing I
knew how to decorate for.

Prior to leaving for work the following
morning, I stood in the living room to admire my handiwork. I
hadn’t gone over the top, preferring the classy traditional look to
the gaudy one. The tree was dressed in red and gold ornaments. An
old fashioned train set circled the skirt, weaving in and out
between the packages displayed. Even with just the three of us
celebrating here, it appeared that we had quite a haul. To be fair,
I had set out the gifts I was taking to Indy. Matthew had brought
over his contribution and added it to the pile as well.

Drawn to the package labeled with my name, I
knelt at the tree and picked it up. Like a child, I shook it gently
to try to deduce what was inside. The box itself was massive, but
it was light as air. Deciding that it wasn’t a bowling ball, I set
it back down in frustration. I giggled at my immaturity as I stood
up to survey the room one last time.

Everything appeared to be in order and I
swallowed down my nervousness, silently praying that she wouldn’t
be offended. Matthew had done all he could to assure me that she
wouldn’t be. I knew that nobody knew her better than he did, but I
still couldn’t quiet the nagging feeling that I was flirting with
disaster. Knowing it was too late to change my mind, I headed to
the bank.

Feeling a little guilty about not staying
over the previous evening, I had set my alarm extra early. I wanted
to attend to the slew of emails I knew would be waiting in my inbox
prior to the rest of the staff showing up. Getting a good head
start on the day would help me to feel less guilty about rushing
out of the office again at noon. Plus, I wanted to be a little more
festive than I had been on Black Friday. No closed office door for
me today. If the rest of the office was taking it easy and
discussing their plans, I would, too.

Traffic was light, a testament to the early
hour. The people who had to work today were still getting ready,
and those lucky enough to have the day off were likely still in
bed. The roads were clear pavement, no snow in sight. I sighed,
more than a little disappointed. I could probably count on one hand
the number of times I remembered having a white Christmas. This
year looked to be lacking in that department as well. Knowing
Indiana weather, we’d have a massive blizzard the day after.