My father had drilled in my head early on that to apologize was to show weakness. And even though I knew he had been full of shit, it was ingrained in me to avoid those words at all costs.
Even when I knew I was wrong. Even when I knew to say it would go a long way in smoothing over a situation that had gotten ridiculously out of hand.
But I could show her in other ways.
Ways I knew she’d like.
And I’d definitely enjoy.
I stumbled, getting the key card out of my pocket and when I finally got the door open, I swung it open with enough force to send it bouncing back in my face.
“Vivian!” I called out, kicking my shoes off and heading to the bed, where I expected to find her.
Except she wasn’t there.
I looked around but the room appeared empty.
I turned on the light in the bathroom and went inside. Nothing.
Vivian was gone.
“Damn it!” I yelled, sweeping my arm across the vanity, knocking my toothpaste and deodorant onto the floor.
I pulled my cellphone out of my pocket and dialed Vivian’s number. I honestly expected her to still be here when I came back. It hadn’t entered my head that she’d leave.
We fought all the time. She or I had stormed out more than once. But she had never left before.
And when she didn’t answer her phone, I could only stand there in shock.
I think I had underestimated just how angry she was. I hadn’t been wrong when my instincts told me this fight; this argument, was different.
I’d been on this ride with Viv for years. I thought I knew her. I thought I could predict how she would react.
I was an idiot.
I re-dialed her number again.
And again.
And again.
And it went to voicemail each and every time.
I gripped my hair with my hands and wondered what I should do.
Should I give up and go to bed? It was late. We had to be on the bus early in the morning to head to Wilmington.
I stared down at my phone, willing it to ring.
I had seriously fucked up this time.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and left my hotel room again, not bothering to put my shoes back on. This time I headed back down the hallway and knocked on the door by the elevator.
No one answered so I pounded on the door with my fist. “Open up you cunt rag!” I bellowed, beating my palms against the wood.
“What the hell, man?” Mitch muttered after answering the door. He looked like he had just woken up. I looked over his shoulder and saw that someone was in his bed. I couldn’t tell who. And I didn’t really give a shit. I was just glad he hadn’t answered the door naked. I’d had enough trauma for one night.
“Which room is Gracie in?” I asked. Mitch’s expression was strange and he looked over his shoulder nervously. I didn’t have time to think about what weird shit he had going on.
“Uh, room 321. Two floors down,” he said, his voice pitched low.
“Thanks,” I said in a rush.
“Wait, Cole!” Mitch called out as I turned to go. He came out in the hallway, closing the door behind him.
“Why are you going to Gracie’s room?” he asked, folding his arms over his chest.
“What’s it to you?” I narrowed my eyes, not wanting to share my personal bullshit with him right now. I wasn’t up for a touchy feely, let’s talk it out conversation.
“I know you’re looking for Vivian.”
I frowned. “What the fuck do you know, Mitch?” I asked, losing my patience.
“Uh, she called Gracie, needing a place to crash. She was pretty upset,” Mitch said and cocked my eyebrow.
“So is Gracie the one playing sleepover?” I asked, not surprised in the least but not caring at all.
Mitch flushed and shrugged. “I’m just saying, don’t go in there acting like a big dick. Vivian may be loud and bitchy but Gracie says she’s really hurt right now. So whatever you did must have been a doozy.”
I sneered at my friend who seemed to be trying his hand at some Dear Abby advice.