CHAPTER 3
I could tell it was early afternoon by the way the light filtered through the curtains that hung over my bedroom windows. I must have been more exhausted than I’d realized. Today was Saturday, the day of my blind date. Considering getting out of bed, I ruled against it as I stretched against the cool, satin sheets that covered my mattress, feeling like a cloud underneath me, and curled right back into my fluffy pillow that hugged my head. I remembered waking up and seeing that the clock read 2:30 a.m. when I awoke, as usual having a panic attack from my reoccurring nightmare, but settled right back into a deep sleep once I’d calmed down.
I decided to have my own movie marathon when I got home early from school yesterday, and I watched all of my favorites for the millionth time. I’d extended an invitation to Lena to join me, but she just laughed, tossing a pillow at me as she told me I was lame. Lena didn’t believe in wasting her time watching old movies when she could dress in clothes designed only to cover a minimal part of the body, flaunt herself at the hottest clubs, and end up in a hotel room doing who knows what with some handsome stranger. Even though she had invited me to come along, I kindly declined the offer, choosing to stay at home in my flannel pajamas to watch movies until midnight when the last one ended and I crawled into bed.
Any other girl would have given her right leg to have an invitation to be Lena’s sidekick. To be honest, I knew there was a side of me that would enjoy nothing more than to be right at Lena’s side at every questionable place she went, living as impulsively as I could and never thinking about the what ifs. It was the dark side of me that secretly desired to take risks regardless of what might happen. The reality was that every time Lena pressured me to do something I knew was questionable or not the right thing, she gave up a little too quickly.
I knew without a doubt that if she were to give a few more pleas or pointless arguments, I might just give in and do something that would release that inner desire that I tried so hard to suppress. I suppose that’s what scared me the most. I felt that if I gave into to that dark side I would become engulfed in it and change completely from who I was now. I felt it would overtake me completely and I would become a slave to it with no way to escape.
It made me glad that even though Lena was always breathing down my neck and pressuring me that she gave up when she did. Every time I was invited to do something I knew would not be in my best interest, an internal battle flared and I could always hear a small voice somewhere inside pleading with me to find the strength to overcome the force that threatened to overpower me. To this point I’d managed to stand my ground and make the better choice, but I could not honestly say that I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I always would.
Since Lena was more like my sister than she was my friend, it was easier for me to say no than if it had been someone I felt like I needed to impress who was putting the pressure on me. If I ever did give in and do something I knew was wrong, could I still return to being myself or would it really be like I feared? Would it only take one bad decision to lose myself? I knew the good side of me didn’t want to take the risk of finding out, but it was not easy trying to stay on the straight and narrow all the time.
I’d almost slipped back into another relaxing sleep when my bedroom door flew open with such force that it slammed into the wall it was attached to. I must have jumped six inches into the air from shock as Lena stormed into the room with a look on her face that made it obvious she had an agenda.
“Out of bed! Come on now! Up and at ’em!” She shouted as she opened the curtain so that the light blinded me.
I let out a tired groan as I yawned, pulling a pillow over my head and tugging at the comforter so it came up over my neck.
“I mean it! You’re going to be late!”
With that, Lena got a death grip on the comforter and the sheet, yanking them completely off of the bed in one swift jerk of her arm; I felt a sudden chill from the air conditioner that made me curl my toes.
“Late for what?” I asked, sitting up and rubbing my eyes as I tried to adjust to the light.
“Let’s see, you have a nail appointment at three, a hair appointment at four, and after that we have to find what you’re going to be wearing tonight!”
“Is all this necessary? It’s just a date, not prom.”
“Just a date would be with an average high school guy taking you to grab a value meal at Burger Barn then finishing the evening with a bucket of popcorn at the movie theater. Ian is much more than that. Remember, he is eighteen, out of high school, obviously hot—otherwise I wouldn’t associate with him—and makes every guy at our school look like a sea lion.”
I felt her hands grip my ankle and pull me off the bed. As I let out a scream, I felt a draft on my back as I sailed through the air, landing right on my butt in the floor feeling violated. Before I could even rise to my feet, Lena had already made her way into the bathroom and turned the shower on.
“Okay, go get in and then brush your teeth so you don’t smell like funky morning breath and butt sweat!” Lena snapped as she waltzed back through my room.
“I don’t stink!” I shot her a look of offense.
“Well, go get in and brush your teeth anyway. I’ll meet you downstairs in twenty. Don’t bother doing hair and makeup, since you will be having it redone this afternoon.” Her voice trailed off as she exited the room.
Rolling my eyes and sighing, I made my way to the shower, hanging my head in defeat; all I really wanted to do was crawl back into bed now that my tailbone ached with a fury. It was sore to touch, and I was positive a bruise had already begun to show.
After stopping for lunch at a little hole-in-the-wall place that served soup and sandwiches, Lena and I made our way to the nail shop. As much as I hadn’t wanted to peel myself out of bed today, I did love the way it felt to get a mani/pedi. There was just something about having your legs and feet pampered while sitting in that big, leather, massage chair that worked all the tension out of your back.
Lena and I always sat side by side in casual conversation as our feet were made beautiful. Once my pedicurist had painted on a lovely French pedicure that matched the French tips on my fingers, I went to join Lena at the black-light station to let them dry, admiring how pretty my hands and feet looked now that they were complete.
We barely made it to the salon to get my hair and makeup done that Lena had been so insistent upon. I know she was a little disappointed when I told both the cosmetician and beautician that I wanted to keep it natural and not look like I was trying to look older than I really was. Lena just rolled her eyes and grabbed a magazine, knowing it wouldn’t do any good to argue with me as I removed the baseball cap I’d had on.
If there was one thing I was more than firm on, it was that I did not like the idea of excessive hair and makeup. I wanted to look like myself, not a made-up beauty pageant contestant trying to look ten years older than I really was. I always thought about the time I had gone for glamour shots a few years back. When I left, my hair was so stiff it could have busted the window out of the car, and the makeup was layered on so thick my pores were screaming for help due to suffocation.
Besides, if Ian didn’t like the person I really was, then he wasn’t worth my time in the first place. I left looking natural and not much different as I had walking in, with the exception that they had used the razor on the hair around my face to put in a layered effect, which caused it to frame my face even when I wore it down.
Lena dragged me to every store she could possibly find that offered endless outfits, which I plainly stated I wouldn’t be seen dead in every time I tried a different one on. Time after time, Lena would return to the dressing room with something just as absurd as the last. I refused to try half of them on at all. Everything she picked out was too short, too low cut, too tight, or too see through.
After so many stores and being delivered so many rejects, I slipped my jeans and t-shirt back on to go look through the inventory myself. I was pleasantly surprised to find that this store had some really pretty dresses that were not even close to being the kind of hideous garbage Lena had been handing me, which had “how to wash” tags that were more covering than the garment itself. I found one that looked amazing on the hanger, so I found my size and headed back to the fitting room.
As I walked into the fitting area, it didn’t shock me to find Lena in front of a mirror trying on all the hoochie dresses she had been handing me, twirling around and looking at herself from all angles with that look on her face indicated the item she had on now was about to go onto the pile she planned on purchasing.
As I headed into my fitting room, she mouthed something about how she couldn’t believe I hadn’t like any of the outfits she was now trying on that looked so incredible. I looked at her, cocking my head to one side, mouthing back the words “they just weren’t me” before closing the door.
Slipping into the dress, I could already tell I liked it. The design was simple and the color complemented both my hair and eyes. The dress was black satin with blue tulle over it that had spaghetti straps, a moderate neckline gathered just under the breast line, and hung loosely where it stopped four inches above my knees. The color alone made my olive skin look stunning, and the blue tulle overlaid on the black satin matched my eyes perfectly—making them illuminate my black hair that was framing my face. When I walked out, the lady who had led us to the fitting room stopped in her tracks, telling me how great of a choice the dress was for me, and asked which clerk had helped me with the selection. I told her I just saw it passing through the store and tried it on. She applauded my eye for fashion, telling me how beautiful I looked, and asking me if I was in want or need of a job because they could use someone around the store with an eye for fashion like mine.
Right then I noticed Lena lingering at the mirror, staring at the lady in the reflection as all the color drained from her face, looking insulted and confused. The lady, noticing she was standing there looking in the mirror, asked her if she was finding everything okay and then went back to the front counter without saying anything about the short, red cocktail dress Lena had on. It was obvious that Lena was insulted by the lack of attention.
“That’s the one you’re going with?” Lena asked coldly.
“Yeah, I think so. I really like the cut and the way it fits.”
“Looks like a waste of money to me,” she added, sounding irritated.
Without saying anything back to her, fearing it would only make matters worse, I returned to the fitting room and changed back into my clothes. Before leaving, I selected a pair of open-toe, black, suede heels and a set of silver jewelry with small blue stones in it for a touch of sparkle to the outfit. I checked out and waited for Lena, who had gathered all the items I had rejected and was buying them all. Her body language told me she was still mad as she hastily took out her platinum card, sliding it so hard through the card machine that it wouldn’t read the magnetic strip.
We sat in silence on the drive home, making the thirty-minute drive seem like two hours.
When we pulled into the driveway, Lena still did not say a word. She opened the garage and parked the car, not even looking at me when we entered the house. I headed up the stairs as she went to the kitchen, deciding I would just let it go. It was clear that this was something Lena needed to come to accept herself and anything I could say was not going to help the situation. Surely by the time Ian got here she would be more talkative as she introduced us and all would go back to the way I was used to.
Once I was in my room, I shut the door, glancing at the clock that hung on the wall next to the entrance of the bathroom. It was way later than I had thought it was. Ian was going to be here in half an hour. I was glad my hair and makeup were already taken care of. I took out my fantastic new dress, shoes, and jewelry.
I went to the bathroom closet and chose a light-scented, sweet-smelling lotion and lathered myself in it, making sure I covered every square inch of dry skin, then topped it off with the matching perfume. I hurriedly ran back into the bedroom and slipped into my new outfit.
Glancing at the clock, I saw that Ian would be here any minute. With a quick glance in the mirror, I slipped the heels onto my feet, fastened the necklace, and put the earrings on. I was even more impressed now that I was seeing the entire ensemble than I had been when I tried the dress on back at the store. I was still admiring the way my reflection looked when the doorbell rang, causing me to get butterflies in my stomach.
Assuming Lena would answer the door since this was, after all, a blind date she had set up, I was not in any hurry to get downstairs to the front door. I was coming down the stairs when the doorbell rang a second time, almost causing me to nearly trip and fall down the stairs as I tried to get to the bottom as quickly as possible. As soon as my feet hit the tile, I ran toward the corridor as fast as I could move in four-inch heels, grabbing the corner of the wall and nearly sliding past the entryway.
Stopping just in front of the door, I took a second to catch my breath and smooth my hair down before opening the door just in time for a hand to rise up near my face, ready to knock on the door. The person it was attached to was standing off to the side, looking toward the driveway.
Ian Bentley wore his sandy blonde hair short enough that it barely covered the tops of his ears and just long enough in the front that it would fall slightly over his eyebrows if he didn’t push it to the side. His face was slender with a defined jawbone that was more elongated than square, and he had a pretty smile. He was slightly tanned with beautiful, hazel eyes that showed his confidence. Ian looked like he was fairly toned, but his muscles were not clearly defined as Avan’s were. Wearing slacks, a button-up shirt, a sport jacket, and expensive shoes, which looked like they might be Italian leather, I had to admit he dressed well. As he focused his attention on me, he almost seemed surprised to see me there, as if he too had expected Lena to answer the door. I know I probably had a rather odd look on my face as well as I compared everything about him to Avan in my mind.
“Wow!” Ian said as he looked me up and down, causing me to blush and feel a little uncomfortable.
“Hi,” I replied, sounding a lot more confident than I felt.
“So you must be my hot date?” He was still looking into the doorway, as if he were trying to see something behind me.
“Yeah, I’m Mattie.” The way he seemed distracted made me feel a little weird. I turned around to see what he could be looking for, but I didn’t see anything.
“Right, so I guess we should get going.” He must have noticed I was catching on to him obviously looking for something I was unaware of.
“I guess so. Let me grab my purse and jacket. It’ll only take a sec.” I already had them lying on the table by the door, so it only took me no time at all to get them.
Ian was still outside, looking lost, when I came back.
“Ready to go?”
Maybe once we got in the car and started talking this wouldn’t feel so awkward.
“Let’s do it,” he said as he winked and smiled. Disturbingly, he wasn’t looking at me when he did it. Looking behind me once again, I still didn’t see anyone there. I hadn’t seen or heard from Lena since we got back to the house, so I didn’t figure she was even home.
“Did you just wink at someone?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“No, I had something in my eye. I was just trying to get it out, sorry,” he responded as he turned toward the driveway, walking right past me as he opened the door and slid behind the steering wheel of his yellow Camaro.
I was really beginning to be unimpressed with Ian Bentley as he got into the car without even coming around to open my door for me. Lena had really talked Ian up, leaving me with the impression that he was going to be a well-mannered, classy gentleman. I was really starting to wonder what I’d gotten myself into when I agreed to go on this stupid date. I slid into my seat, put my seatbelt on, and laid my purse in my lap. Ian turned the ignition, and the engine roared to life. As soon as we were on the street in motion, he reached for the stereo, turning on his CD player loud enough to wake the dead.
Ian was tapping his hands on the steering wheel right along to the erratic beat of the drums. I felt like the song would never come to an end, but when it did, the next one was every bit as eardrum splitting as the last. The music itself only seemed to have one effect other than annoying me, and that was the faster the drums played, the faster and more careless Ian drove.
I felt my knuckles turn white as I dug my manicured nails into the leather shoulder strap of my purse in my lap. Ian was weaving through traffic without using his signal, cutting people off, and speeding as if he had just stolen the car and wanted to get away from the lot before the cops could catch up to him. I closed my eyes and prayed that my life would be spared as he cut over three lanes of traffic to make an exit off the highway at the last possible second. The lights from houses, businesses, and streetlamps that lined the street were passing so quickly they all ran together, making continuous streaks of light.
The car slowed down as we headed down a busy, crowded street in the arts district, but with the music still at an ear-piercing decibel, I didn’t even attempt to make conversation. Before long, Ian turned the stereo off and pulled under the awning of a very fancy-looking restaurant. With all the noise suddenly gone, I could hear a high-pitched ringing in both ears.
My head was still pounding to the beat of whatever pathetic excuse for a song was playing last. I searched through my purse for the bottle of aspirin I always kept with me, hoping it would be enough to counteract the headache that pulsed in my head. This was one of those times that I was really glad I had it.
Before I realized it, a guy about my age in a black tuxedo opened my car door, escorted me out of the car, and told me to have a wonderful evening. Ian handed the valet driver his keys and warned him not to scratch the paint or he would make sure it came out of his paycheck. How charming! Lena had really picked out a gentleman all right. Without warning, he put his arm around my waist, making me jump and pull away from him until we were no longer touching while we moved toward the entrance. We reached the desk where the maître de—a tall, older man wearing glasses with a thin mustache and slicked down hair—asked what name our reservation was under. As Ian announced his last name, his demeanor seemed to change, as if he just remembered who he was and how he was supposed to act. The gentleman confirmed the reservation and led us to a candle lit table for two in a private room that was dimly lit by a chandelier. The maître de pulled an intricately carved wooden chair with an ivory cushion back from the table and gestured for me to have a seat. It made me a little sad that the first sign of a gentleman I encountered tonight had come from a member of the restaurant staff rather than my date. At this point I didn’t want to look at Ian much less be on a date with him. As far as I was concerned, Ian Bentley was a jerk.
I could tell the restaurant was going to be expensive just by glancing at the menu. The first thing I noticed was that there were no prices. If you’ve never been to a restaurant where they don’t include pricing in the menu you can assume everything listed is at least forty dollars a plate and it only goes up from there. The unsettling thing about that is there is no way to tell which ones are more than the starting rate unless you ask. The thing about asking is that at these kinds of restaurants, if you have to ask for prices, you probably cannot afford to eat there.
Another thing you had to know about these kinds of restaurants was that they had professional chefs.
When the waiter came to take our drink order, it caught me off guard when Ian ordered a bottle of champagne without even being carded. I didn’t know what to think since I’d never even had a drink before. He did not even have the common courtesy to ask me what I wanted to drink before ordering champagne. Had he planned on choosing what I would have to eat too? Well to send him a message, I ordered a glass of tea and noticed him giving me a look of disapproval, which I ignored.
“I take it you don’t like champagne?” Ian’s voice had an edge to it, like it was taking all he had to try to sound calm, but it wasn’t working.
“And I take it you don’t care about contributing to the delinquency of a minor? I’m only sixteen. You do know that I’m only sixteen, right?” I couldn’t help but ask him. Did he not know that just by ordering a bottle of champagne he was breaking at least a handful of laws?
“Yes, I do know how old you are. Lena was very clear about that, and no I don’t really care what the law tells me I can and can’t do.” His voice still had a certain tone that let me know he was slightly annoyed with me.
“Aren’t you only eighteen?”
“Is that what Lena told you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I guess I must be eighteen.”
“If you’re only eighteen, then how did you order champagne without being carded? So you lied about your age? What else are you lying about, Ian?”
“I haven’t lied about anything. It’s called money, Mattie. My parents have lots of it. They come here quite often. We are recognized by the people in this area. I just moved back home, but my family name has a lot of influence. It happens when you have a bit of power.” He sounded firm and intense, as if he were explaining how society works to someone who had been raised in a cave their entire life by a pack of wolves.
He looked at me so seriously he made me feel like a child being reprimanded. His words stung me a little because I knew he had just hit the nail on the head. It brought back the days when my dad was still alive. Because of who he was professionally, we had been treated differently too. Lena and her dad were treated that way now, and because Damien had taken me in and I lived with them, I sometimes had a few perks and benefits as well. I knew that money talked, and if I had been raised without my mother being the saint she was, I’m sure I would have turned out just like Ian and Lena.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to sound that way.” I knew I had stepped out of line coming across as accusatory and hateful the minute I had asked the previous questions. I’m sure he wondered who I thought I was believing I had the right to be so judgmental of him when Lena Montgomery was my best friend.
“Actually, Mattie, I think it’s you who deserves an apology. I’ve really been acting like a jerk, and it isn’t remotely your fault. Honestly, I hadn’t been so keen on being set up on a blind date. I’ve been on them before, and they’ve always ended in disaster, so I wasn’t very excited when Lena insisted on another one. She told me she would be there to introduce us, and when you answered the door and she never came out, I got frustrated and took it all out on you. I know I’m in the wrong.” His voice had softened with his response to where he almost sounded like a different person.
“I actually know exactly what you mean. I mean, I’ve never been on a blind date, but I wasn’t thrilled about the idea either. Lena kind of didn’t give me a choice. She actually made nail, hair, and cosmetic appointments for me and forced me to go to them in attempts to get me all dolled up in which I refused. Then, this afternoon she got in a really bad mood and I haven’t seen her since. She told me that she would introduce us too. I guess maybe I got the wrong idea of you,” I stated as Ian smiled in response.
“How about we start over, Mattie? Do you think you could possibly find it in you somewhere to give me a second chance to prove to you that I’m not an arrogant, hot tempered, narcissistic idiot?”
“I might be able to do that,” I said, pretending to think about it.
“I have to tell you, I was pretty scared when I was on my way to pick you up.”
“You were scared? Of what?” I wondered out loud in amusement.
“Yeah, Lena has set me up with some real winners.” He continued sarcastically, “I swear one looked like a donkey, but when she laughed it was clear that I was wrong. Her mother had obviously had an affair with a hyena!”
“Wow! See, if I were you, I wouldn’t have ever let her set me up again!”
“But it paid off because if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be at a nice restaurant getting to apologize to a beautiful girl who is doing a great job at pretending she could possibly end up liking me.”
“Okay, you caught me. I’ll admit it, I didn’t like you earlier, but you’re growing on me a little.” I could tell I was blushing as I said it, but it was the truth. I was coming to the conclusion that maybe Ian might be turning out to be not so bad of a guy after all.
“Well, Mattie, what would it take for me to get you to have some champagne with me?” He was almost charming in the way he looked at me.
“I’m not a big drinker, to be honest with you.” Hopefully he would buy into my response.
“Maybe that’s because you’ve never tried it,” he suggested, giving me a half smile that made the fluttering feeling in my stomach start up again.
“You’re right, I haven’t ever tried it,” I admitted, suddenly feeling really young and inexperienced.
“Well, you shouldn’t knock it til you try it. A glass of champagne is not going to incapacitate you.” He sounded so convincing.
“I probably shouldn’t. What if we get stopped on the way home, or what if we happen to have an accident? I really don’t want us both to go to jail because I have champagne on my breath,” I countered.
Surely throwing the cops into it would get him to back off.
“That will never happen. Trust me, Mattie, I will never let anything happen to you. It’ll be fine.”
“I don’t know.” I could tell I was beginning to be less stubborn with my answers, as I was grasping for straws, trying to come up with any excuse I could think of.
“Champagne doesn’t even have that high of alcohol content percentage. It isn’t like hard liquor. This just has a tiny bit to give it flavor, Mattie.” He sounded so matter of fact.
“Lena would really be upset if I took my first drink with someone else when she’s been begging me for a while.” I didn’t know what else I could say to distract Ian.
“Lena doesn’t have to know unless you tell her. I’m not going to say a word. This is our date, and Lena isn’t here. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”
He had made a very good point. He was right. Why did Lena have to know anything? If what he was telling me about the alcohol content, there shouldn’t be a problem.
“How much does it take to make you drunk?” Since drinking was a new adventure for me, I wanted to avoid any possibility of not being able to walk out of the restaurant by myself.
“Trust me, there isn’t even enough here to make you drunk. Just have one glass to see if you like the taste. If you don’t, then at least you can say you’ve tried it.”
It sounded simple enough. A glass of champagne seemed harmless. What could possibly go wrong if I had one glass of champagne? Then the voice inside was telling me not to do it. I felt it all the way to my bones, telling me to stay away and that it was only the gateway that led to darker things. Debating on whether or not to tell Ian to pour the contents of the bottle that sat in a bucket of ice, which sat on the table directly in front of me, I decided I was tired of that little voice telling me what to do. I was going to prove that I wasn’t as lame and predictable as Lena thought I was.
“Okay, fill it up.” With those four words, I watched Ian pop the cork out of the dark green bottle as foam exploded out the top and ran down the side onto his hand. After drying it off with his napkin, he proceeded to fill the crystal glass that sat in front of me with a sparkling, bubbly liquid that reminded me of ginger ale when poured in a glass.
After filling his own glass, Ian raised it in his hand and I did the same as we toasted the glasses. The tube-shaped glass reminded me of a tulip, and the slender stem felt delicate between my fingers, as if it would break right in half if I gripped it too hard. As the glass touched my bottom lip, it felt cold as the carbonated champagne flowed into my mouth. The taste was new and exotic to my taste buds as it flowed over my tongue. It was sweet but tart at the same time, with a little bit of fizz. The flavor made it feel like small shockwaves were going off in my mouth as I tried to get used to the taste.
I hadn’t even noticed I had emptied my glass already when the food arrived at the table and the waiter set our plates down on the white linen tablecloth. I folded my napkin in my lap, looking down at the arrangement of shrimp scampi and baked potato; the chef had made it look like a piece of artwork that was almost too pretty to eat. When I looked back up, I saw that my champagne glass had been refilled without having to ask for a refill. I didn’t feel drunk.
Before I knew it, we were on our third bottle of champagne and I had given up counting how many glasses I had consumed. What I did know was right now I really liked Ian, everything was funny, I had very poor coordination, and my vision was blurry.
When Ian suggested desert, I could no longer make out the words on the menu, so I just pointed at something and hoped whatever was delivered to the table tasted good. We were halfway through the third bottle of champagne, and I noticed Ian wasn’t drinking nearly as fast as I was. For a minute, I wondered if he had consumed as much as I had and how long he had been drinking on the same glass. But then the thought faded from my mind just as quickly as it had come. I really couldn’t focus on much at the moment, and I didn’t really care very deeply about anything. The room had started slowly turning in circles, and I was almost having to squint to see Ian clearly even though he was sitting right across the table from me.
As I went to pick up my glass to drink the last half of the champagne left that had finished off the bottle, I miscalculated where to put my hand and spilled it all over the front of my dress. Rather than being upset, I found it hilarious and laughed uncontrollably. Ian left some cash on the table and suggested it was time to go as he laughed at me.
The next thing I knew we were back in the Camaro, and this time Ian had put it on a local radio station that I listened to when I didn’t have my MP3 player with me. We were both singing at the top of our lungs as we flew down the highway without a care in the world. I had no idea where we were going or what was planned next for our date, but I was having a blast living in the moment. His crazy driving didn’t even cross my mind. I don’t even know that I was consciously aware that we were driving anywhere as I was happy being in my own world with this new incredible feeling.
We exited off of the highway, and I didn’t even recognize my own neighborhood as we pulled up in front of my house. I asked who lived there. Ian laughed at me again, helping me out of the car as I stumbled around, repeatedly tripping over my own feet, trying to find my keys in the bottom of my purse. Finally I dug them out of my purse, but I couldn’t even see which key went to the house as I held them up right in front of my face. Ian helped me walk to the door as I fumbled with the house key, trying to get it into the first of three locks on the door. Taking the keys from my hand, he slid the key into the lock with ease so I could turn it and unlock the top deadbolt. I hadn’t even made my way to trying to unlock the other locks on the door when out of nowhere, I decided kissing Ian seemed like a great idea.
I have no idea what came over me, but I dropped the keys and ran my fingers through Ian’s hair, pulling him into a kiss. Unfortunately, when our lips met, I couldn’t feel a thing! I felt pressure, but nothing else. Even though I could tell he was kissing with such intensity, I felt nothing. With my back against the front door so I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall flat on my face. Ian was right in front of me. I felt his hands run through my hair as I began to wonder when this was going to end. It wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would have been before I realized I was so drunk that I was numb all over. I pulled back, turning my head away, but he caught my face with his hand, forcing me to turn back to face him. He started kissing me harder, and I started to panic.
I had given him the green light that I was up for anything when I stupidly made the first advance. I felt his hands slide up my thighs as he gave a little tug at the hem of my skirt, sliding it up little by little. When I moved my hands onto his, trying to push them off of me, he grabbed my wrists, pinning me against the door. I wanted to cry. I wished someone, anyone, would notice that I didn’t want this to be happening. As he kissed me even more roughly, I felt my lip start to sting, followed by the salty taste of blood.
His hand moved to my face as he pulled his fingers through my hair, entwining them and pulling until I let out a whimper of pain. I felt myself giving into a losing battle, knowing I was too drunk and uncoordinated from the champagne to defend myself. As I felt my freedom slipping away, the voice inside began screaming at me to find the courage inside to stop this, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I had to fight to pull away, but somehow I managed to escape his grasp. Staring deeply into his eyes, trying to focus, Ian stared right back into my dilated pupils with a scary look in his eye that conveyed a threat of controlling me and making me do something I didn’t want to. If I could just come up with a way to get him to leave tonight, then I could deal with this later when I was sober.
“You want to take this inside where we can have more privacy?” he asked as he backed up, looking me over from head to toe as if he were undressing me with his eyes.
“Ian, I’ve really had a great time with you tonight, but I’m not ready for this,” I whispered, afraid of how he was going to react.
“Don’t you like the way it feels when I kiss you, baby?” he asked as he placed his lips near my ear.
If he only knew how badly I really wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until someone heard me and came to my rescue.
“You are a great guy, Ian. It’s just that I want to remember it when I give myself away. It isn’t something I want to do when I’m drunk and won’t remember,” I said, putting my hand on his cheek.
“Okay, we won’t do it tonight. I promise it will be special when it happens, okay?”
I nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond, trying to fight the urge to double over in the bushes and puke out the expensive meal and champagne he had just spent a small fortune on. Ian took a step back, looking at me as he ran his hands across his face, as if he were trying to wipe away his frustration, making me feel even more uncomfortable, even through my drunkenness. The cold outside was starting to make me shiver, which only made me feel more sick to my stomach as my mouth had started to water and caused me to clench my teeth. I was hoping he would leave soon because I really didn’t want to have to embarrass myself further by hurling all over his shiny, leather shoes.
“Mattie, I just want you to know you are beautiful and I can wait for a little while.” With that, he said good night and headed for his car.
I unlocked the door and stumbled up the stairs as I tried to make it to my bathroom as quickly as my drunken feet could carry me. I was so nauseated I did not know if I could make it in time. By the time I made it to the top of the staircase, I had to run so I didn’t vomit all over the carpet. I hugged the toilet for what had to have been thirty minutes straight. Sitting in my bathroom floor I was so cold, even though I was sweating through my clothes, as the nausea kept coming in waves, and I was retching so hard my eyes were watering.
As I wiped my eyes, my makeup smeared across my hand. I tried to get a wet washcloth, but every time I moved, it caused me to vomit more. Giving up, I lay down on the cold bathroom tile and tried to stay as still as possible to avoid further sickness but it was to no avail. I knew it was coming as soon as I would get really hot, clenching my teeth as my mouth started watering then, it just happened over and over again with no end in sight. The remainder of the night was spent with my head lying on the toilet seat, waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit.
By the time the sun was beginning to rise, I had vomited so hard and so many times every muscle in my stomach, back, and legs felt as if they were Jell-O, and due to my melted makeup situation, I looked like raccoon at a water park. I still had on the dress from last night, although it now reeked of champagne and vomit, my haired was tangled, and I was missing an earring that had probably been flushed down the toilet at some point during my hurl fest. I had never been this sick in my entire life. I’d finally stopped vomiting and crawled to the bathroom sink in an attempt to pull myself up high enough to turn on the faucet and wet a washcloth, but I didn’t have the energy. I gave up again and lay back onto the floor when I heard my bedroom door open.
As soon as Lena saw me lying on the floor looking like death warmed over, she started laughing.
“Mattie, are you okay?”
“No!” I said, fighting my gag reflex.
“What happened?”
Before I could answer, I started gagging again and Lena helped me back into what I referred to as the toilet closet. I dry heaved nonstop for about ten minutes before I could stop my gag reflex.
“To answer your question, three bottles of champagne happened to me,” I answered as I dropped my head into the toilet and started another fit of the dry heaves.
“Geez, Mattie, three bottles? We’re going to have to work on your alcohol tolerance!”
I pressed the cold washcloth Lena tossed at me to my face, trying to calm my breathing.
“I was thinking I would try it since Ian made it sound so inviting, and eventually it just made me stop thinking period.”
“How long have you been in here?” she asked, sounding only mildly concerned.
I figured she would still be mad from yesterday, since she was normally a grudge holder, but I guessed right now with the way I looked, anybody would have felt sorry for me and at least waited until later to scream.
“All night,” I stammered, still fighting my gag reflex as I responded through clenched teeth, holding my jaw tight, trying not to dry heave again.
“We need to get you cleaned up,” Lena said as she crinkled her nose.
I nodded my head since that was about all I could do at the moment to let her know I was in agreement before laying my head back against the wall and closing my eyes in an attempt to concentrate on making the churning in my stomach stop.
“I think I need to go to the hospital,” I managed to say through lethargy.
“No!” Lena shouted at me.
“Lena, I think I’m dying,” I barely whimpered as I started to cry.
“You’ve just got some alcohol poisoning, that’s all. You can’t die, especially not from that,” Lena snapped.
“People do die from that, Lena. Just drive me to the emergency room, please?” I pleaded through my tears.
“No, no hospitals, absolutely not. I’m sorry, Mattie, it’s just out of the question. They can’t do anything for you anyway. You just need fluids and rest. You’ll be fine,” Lena said. Her voice had become irritated.
I did not understand why she was so against the idea of me going to the emergency room. It wasn’t like I went all the time, calling attention to myself that would hurt her or her dad’s reputation. I knew I was dehydrated enough that they would hook me up to an IV and give me some saline, take my blood to determine my blood/alcohol level, treat me accordingly, and send me home with a spank on the hand since it was my first offense. I had no intention of telling them who gave me the alcohol, if that’s what she was worried about. I could care less about getting anyone in trouble. I just knew I was sick and I needed help!
Lena had already gotten out my pajamas, a towel, and washcloth in a matter of minutes. She turned on my shower and adjusted the water temperature. Putting my body wash, shampoo, and conditioner in the bottom on the tiles, she instructed me to undress and crawl in, letting the warm water wash over me. I took my shower sitting down next to the drain in the center so that I wouldn’t fall and hurt myself. She told me when I got done to leave the shower running and she would come in and turn everything off after I had gotten into my pajamas. Once I had my instructions, she helped me unzip the back of my dress and left, closing the bathroom door behind her.
The warm water felt cleansing as it hit my face. I couldn’t believe I had been stupid enough to drink three bottles of champagne, minus the few glasses Ian sipped on over the course of the evening. Lena was right, I really was lame. That’s when it all started coming back to me. Up until this very moment, I had forgotten about what happened after the restaurant. Bits and pieces started popping into my mind now that I was sobering up.
I remembered singing in the car, not being able to find the key, and totally making out with Ian. Did I really instigate that like a drunken moron? Then I remembered him telling me something about making it special. Mother of pearl! Had I been considering having drunken sex with Ian last night? Why in the world would I even consider giving that away to someone I hardly knew at all? Why couldn’t I remember the details of how that had come about?
How close had I come? I couldn’t believe that there were such huge black holes in my memory of last night. Other than the few bits and pieces I had recalled in the shower, the last thing I remembered was looking at the impressive plate of food the waiter had sat down in front of me. I threw more water on my face, trying to wash away the feeling of utter stupidity. Realizing it wasn’t going to go away no matter how much soap or shampoo I used, I decided it was time to get out since the water had started turning cold.
After crawling out of the shower and putting my flannel pajamas on, I managed to make it into the bedroom, where Lena had turned my bed back for me and put my cell phone on the charger. Pulling up onto the bed took everything I had left in me as I slid underneath the covers, barely having the energy left to breathe. Lena walked back to the bathroom, and I heard her turn the shower off, gather my filthy clothing, and shut the bathroom door again when she came out.
She had a glass of 7Up on the nightstand, alongside some saltine crackers and the remote to my fifty-two inch, plasma TV, which was mounted on the wall opposite of my bed. I couldn’t even think about nibbling on a cracker without feeling sick again, and TV held no appeal. Before leaving me to drift off to sleep, Lena put her hand on my forehead and checked to see if I had any fever. She offered to bring a heating pad to ease the muscles I’d pulled from being sick all night, but I told her not to worry about it. Then she said something about how I wasn’t going to die of alcohol poisoning and this wouldn’t be the first time I would find myself in this condition as my eyes closed and I was officially out like a light.