I opened the door before Jack had a chance to knock. He was grinning from ear to ear, holding a bouquet of red roses in one hand and a bottle of flavored vodka in the other. “I thought you’d probably have wine, so I thought I’d bring something a bit different.” He extended the banana vodka to me, then the flowers.
“Thank you, Jack.” I motioned for him to come inside and closed the door as he stood in my living room, looking around like he was inside a home décor magazine. “Let me get these in some water.” I carried the flowers to the kitchen and found a wine carafe under the sink. Filling it with water, I trimmed the ends of the stems before arranging them.
They were beautiful and he was so sweet and thoughtful, even though banana vodka sounded pretty gross.
“Did you decorate this, or did Whitney?” he asked, looking around.
“Whitney did. She’s very talented.” She truly was, both interior and exterior, which was exceedingly rare.
“You want wine, or are you up for trying this banana stuff?”
“Let’s try the vodka. I love banana, so thought I’d give it a shot.” He leaned against the kitchen doorframe. “I really love what she’s done. I need her to decorate my new place.”
I poured us each a shot of the flavored vodka. It was actually really good, but seconds after it hit my stomach, it tried to force its way back up.
“You okay?” he asked as I worked to keep it down.
“Yeah, but I better stop at just one.” I poured him another and put on the kettle for tea. “I feel like I’m getting an ulcer or something. Stomach wants to give me trouble lately.”
“That sucks. My dad had an ulcer and…” I listened to him ramble on about the types of therapies his father had gone through before finding some relief. “One of my cousin’s esophagus burst because all the acid burned through it. So if it doesn’t get better, be sure to get it checked out.”
I smiled at him, appreciating his concern. “I will.”
“Okay, so where’s the chick flicks?” he asked, way too eagerly for any man.
I set down my mug and walked through the hall to the bedroom to flip through the stack of DVDs. Jack was standing in the doorway, the smile on his face even wider than earlier.
“This is cozy.”
“Yes.”
“If you were planning on watching movies by the fire in the big comfy bed, I don’t want to change your plans.”
I turned to him, unsure what to say. I wished that I was attracted to Jack, I wished that the thought of him being in my bed brought butterflies to my stomach, but they didn’t. Which was exactly why I was a totally fucked up woman.
Was my dysfunction so great that I couldn’t enjoy having a man treat me nice?
Did I thrive on drama in a way that made me pathetic?
Did I, deep down, not believe I deserved to be loved?
What was wrong with me?
I just didn’t know.
“Do you care if we watch it in here?” he asked, bringing me out of my mental self-flagellation. “I really would like to hear the crackling of a fire before it gets too warm to enjoy it.”
I hesitated for only a moment. “Sure.” He was harmless enough. He was almost like having a girlfriend, a very handsome girlfriend.
After going through the movies, we decided on Eat, Pray, Love. I knew everyone had already read the book twice and seen the movie five times, but I hadn’t had time. First school, then cakes, then Ace. It felt like I hadn’t had a moment to myself in years.
The fire was crackling happily when we piled onto the bed, my mug in my hands, his bottle of vodka in his. As the movie progressed, we ended up sitting closer together, then his hand was on my leg, rubbing it in soft strokes.
It wasn’t long before he rolled over and kissed me. It was soft, too soft. I needed aggression.
No.
I needed to throw up.
Scrambling from the bed, I ran to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me, almost not making it to the toilet in time. I heaved until all that was left was bile that burned my throat.
“Holly, you okay?”
I stood up from the cool tile and splashed water on my face. Finally, I opened the door to a concerned looking Jack.
“I’m sorry. Do you mind leaving? I really don’t feel very good.”
He nodded. “I can see that. Can I bring you anything? Do anything?”
I gave him a watery smile. “No, but thank you.”
When the door closed behind him, I sagged back onto my bed in relief before grabbing my pillow, holding it close and falling asleep.
***
Bees were buzzing around my head, and I tried to slap them away, but they wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t leave me alone. My eyes fluttered open, and I realized it wasn’t bees at all, but my phone.
Squinting at the screen, my heart gave a hard thump when I saw Ace’s face looking back at me.
“Hello?”
“Hey, darlin’. You sound sleepy.”
Just hearing his voice made my body tingle and I curled into a ball to make it stop.
“How are you?” I asked.
“Well, that’s why I’m calling.” He sounded sad.
“Have you spoken to your sister?”
“Yes. The old man isn’t supposed to last but a couple more days. Coach agreed to let me take off and say my goodbyes properly.” He sighed, the sound carrying the weight of the world.
“When are we going?”
I heard the sound of him swallowing hard. “You still want to go?” He sounded surprised. Relieved. Grateful.
“Yes, I still want to go.”
He swallowed hard again. “If it’s okay, we need to leave in the morning. I realize it’s short notice and all, and that’s my fault, I—”
“Shhh,” I soothed him. “How long will we be gone? Do you think we’ll be staying long enough for the funeral?”
“I guess that depends on the old man,” he said with a bitter laugh. “He never did like to make things easy or convenient for me, or anyone for that matter.”
“I’ll be ready,” I said. “Just text me the details.”
“Th-thank you, Holly,” he stammered. “It means a lot that you’d be there.”
We hung up, and I pulled the pillow to my chest again, watching the fire crackling, sharing its warmth and light. I fell back asleep and dreamed of Ace.
***
“Holly!”
I opened my eyes to find Whitney standing over me. I sat up. “What’s wrong?”
She didn’t look pleased. “Ace is here. He said he was picking you up?”
I shot straight up in bed, panic seizing me. “Oh my God. I overslept.” I jumped out of bed and started scurrying around, tossing this and that into a suitcase.
“And where do you think you’re going?” she asked, her arms crossed over her chest.
I stopped, realizing I was acting like a crazy person.
“Remember the promise I made to him about going with him to visit his father?”
Whitney’s face softened, but only a little bit. “So you’re going?”
“Yes, he called me last night. He woke me up, and I fell back to sleep before setting my alarm.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked.