yo Wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and the need to hide from Lana after the night before. Unlike my father, I’m not a bad drunk, but I’m a stupid guy who can’t keep his mouth shut.
To make matters worse, I broke Lana’s vase and then made her clean it.
I throw a pillow over my head to muffle my frustrated moan.
You have no one to blame for your behavior but yourself.
The door to my room creaks open. I stick my head out from under the pillow, expecting to find Lana at the door.
“Hello!” Cami screams.
My head pounds in silent response. “Let’s use our inner voices.”
“I’m sorry,” he whisper-screams.
Close enough. “Where is your mom?” And how do I avoid it for the rest of the day?
“Making lunch.”
And had lunch? How long did I sleep?
“And what are you doing here?” I sit on the bed. I’m still wearing my clothes from last night, which look like they spent a week at the bottom of a laundry basket.
“Mommy said you’re not feeling very well.” My head snaps back. “She did?”
“Yes. I heard her on the phone telling Aunt Dee that you have a hanging ovary.
I burst out laughing, though I instantly regret it because of the way my head is pounding. “I think you mean hangover . “
His goofy, toothless smile is slowly growing on me. “What is a hangover?”
And this right here is why I shouldn’t be allowed around children in the first place.
I clear my throat. “It’s when people make bad decisions at night and wake up sick the next day.”
His forehead wrinkles. “Like when you eat too much chocolate and your tummy hurts?”
“Sure, kid. Like this.” I wish my problems arose from eating too much chocolate. It’s much less harmful and much more pleasant, which are two advantages in my book.
“How do you get better?”
I’m sighing. “I’m not sure if I’ll ever get better.” “Why not?”
“Because I get sick a lot.” As sad as it is to admit it.
Cami’s look doesn’t have an ounce of judgment. “With hangover?”
“Yeah.” Just because I have a high tolerance while drinking doesn’t mean I’m immune to feeling the effects the next day. I just got better at managing them.
And dressing them up.
“Whoa. Wait! I know what will work! Stay right there, Cow-l. I’m Cal. Just Cal ,” I emphasize.
“Okay, Cal.” But she comes out more like a cow . She might get it eventually, but today is not that day.
Cami runs out of the room, leaving my door wide open. Her bare feet hit the hardwood floor as she runs down the hallway.
I’m tempted to leave just to avoid having another conversation with the guy. With the way my head is pounding, it might be for the best.
Or you could just play nice and entertain Lana’s daughter after everything that happened last night.
Winning a point or two with Lana wouldn’t be the worst. Although I’m not a childish person, I’m willing to pretend for a while if it makes Cami happy, which in turn will make Lana happy.
So, against every cell in my body telling me to stay away from the child, I stay in my room, waiting for the little wrecking ball to come back with whatever it thinks will make me feel better. Hopefully it’s a bottle of Advil and a glass of water.
A knock on my door makes my head turn in the direction of the sound. The rapid pace of my heart makes my ears pound.
Lana leans against the door frame. “Do you have a minute?” I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “Of course.”
She walks into my room and closes the door behind her. With the way he looks at me, empty and unwavering, my stomach feels ready to purge itself of last night’s bar food.
“What happened last night can’t happen again.” My head falls. “No. I really shouldn’t.” “I went ahead and got the key back.”
My fists clench around the duvet. “I understand.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible.” His tone is sharper than a sword. I ignore the churning feeling in my abdomen and focus on it. “About the vase…”
“What’s up with that?” The question comes out cold. “I plan to get you a new one today.”
“Do you really think buying your way out of this will make up for smashing my mom’s vase?”
Flicker. “From your mother?”
Of all the things to break, it had to be something that belonged to his mother…
She lets out a shaky breath. “I knew it was a mistake to accept you living here. I should have taken my chances with the lawyers and left it in the hands of a judge. I thought maybe you would have some common sense and be on your best behavior, but I was obviously asking too much.
What were you doing coming into the house so late?
I play with my hair. “I wasn’t exactly thinking clearly.” I should never have given you a key.
“Wool-“
“No. You don’t come to Lana with me and expect this all to go away.”
“I’m not trying to make things go away. I’m trying to say I’m sorry.
“Well, you can take your forgiveness and shove it up your ass along with all the other shit you spew.” She closes the door before I even have a chance to apologize.
 |
“I returned!” Cami rushes into my room like a torpedo. The door hits the wall and some plaster falls from the ceiling.
That seems promising.
“Remember your inner voice.” I shudder.
“Right. Sorry.” She bounces from one foot to the other. “What’s happening?”
“I did something to make you feel better.” She presses a folded sheet of paper against her chest.
“What is it?”
She motions with her finger for me to come closer. I consider leaning forward, but think better of it, instead choosing to kneel.
Cami’s face lights up as she unfolds the paper. “Tada!” I wince at the searing pain in my skull.
“You do not like?” Cami’s smile falters, threatening to disappear completely.
“My head just hurts.”
“Oh I’m sorry.” Her lower lip trembles.
A quick scan of the paper makes my heart catapult in my chest. It is the simplest of the drawings, with a large, crooked heart taking up most of the page. Inside the red shape, he drew two blonde stick figures. One has large squiggles on the arms, while the shorter one has a triangle-shaped body to represent a dress. Under the heart, Cami wrote me a message.
Feel better, Cow-L.
Laughter bursts out of me as I trace my name. I can’t say I’ve seen anyone write it like that before. “I love it.”
Cami’s entire face lights up like fireworks, bright and impossible to ignore. “Actually?”
“The best menu of all.” My lips pull into a sincere smile. Someone takes a breath. I look up from Cami’s face to find Lana looking at us with wide eyes.
“Hey.” I offer him a small smile.
“What’s going on?” She takes a step into the room.
“I made Cow-l a card to make him feel better.” Cami turns to show her mother her piece of paper.
“Are you?” The tension in Lana’s voice matches her rigid posture. “What’s wrong with him?”
Cami’s cheeks turn pink. She has a hangover.
Lana looks at me like I’m the one to blame for teaching her daughter the word. I raise my hands in submission. “She heard you talking on the phone first about a hanging ovary, so don’t point the finger at me.”
Lana turns to Cami. “That’s sweet of you.” She caresses her daughter’s head, ruffling the tangled locks even more.
“Do you feel better?” Cami’s big blue eyes look at me. “Absolutely. I’m already starting to feel better.” Although the headache and nausea may take a while to go away, the heaviness that has been pressing on my chest since I woke up feels less intense.
Cami squeals as she clutches the card to her chest, crumpling the paper in the process. “I knew it would work!”
My eye twitches from the sharp tone. I discreetly rub my temple, trying to make the pressure go away.
Why don’t we go swimming and leave Cal alone?
Cami runs out of my room, squealing with excitement. “Thank you.” I stand up.
“I didn’t do it for you,” Lana spits before following Cami, leaving me silent. I try to get busy organizing the rest of the things in the attic. It’s a failed attempt as I get easily distracted by all the noise going on outside the window.
The tightness in my chest intensifies when Cami and Lana hang out by the lake. I’m hit with hundreds of memories of Lana and I doing the same thing, even though Lana actually spent time in the water instead of out of it.
The sun hits her, casting a warm glow on her tanned skin from where she sits on the dock. She shields her eyes from her as she looks at Cami with a big, radiant smile that I haven’t seen in years.
The feeling of longing from yesterday returns, this time much more intense than the last. I want to be down there with them.
Look what happened the last time you wanted something you shouldn’t have.
The thought sobers me, and I escape, choosing to return to the guest house. Except as soon as I get out, I find Lana’s car still in the driveway, the tire flatter than a pancake. Before I decide not to, I throw Lana’s keys off the counter and start changing her flat tire. It’s a bold idea, especially given that my experience with tires is limited to spending Sundays watching Formula 1 with Declan and Iris.
It only takes me five minutes in the blazing sun to realize that TV mechanics have it easy with their power drills and quick-lift jacks. Unlike live cam guys, the real deal is much less s*xy and fast.
My start was shaky, but thanks to YouTube, Adderall, and my inability to be outdone by a shitty tire, I replaced the flat with the fake tire I found in Lana’s trunk.
Even though my head hurts and my stomach is churning after spending the last hour in the sun, I decide to take Lana’s car to the mechanic. Not wanting to leave her without a working vehicle for safety reasons, I take a carpool back to town to take my DBS before heading back to the lake house. She left him a note, my keys, and Cami’s booster seat in case she needed a car before she left for the city.
I enter the car shop. “Hello. I’m looking to change a tire.” The mechanic glances at me before returning to the episode of a Korean drama playing on the TV in the corner.
“Do you think you can help me?” I stop in front of the counter.
“Of course. We’re all busy today, but if you want, come tomorrow morning. Early .” His eyes don’t leave the TV this time.
A look at the store hours printed on a piece of paper behind him makes my eyes narrow. “Are you open tomorrow?”
“Yeah.”
I point to the sign behind him. He has the audacity to break it into a ball before throwing it in the trash.
My molars grind together. “I am willing to pay what you want to finish it today.”
He looks at me, wheels obviously turning in his head before shaking it. “I’m sorry, Sal. I wish I could help you.
But you will not.
I put Lana’s keys on the counter. “The car outside that needs work is Alana’s. Take a look if you don’t believe me.
His gray eyebrows draw together. “Is it? Why didn’t you start with that?”
I roll my eyes and tell him to choose the best tire. She disappears with Lana’s keys before returning ten minutes later to tell me that her three other tires are worn out and the oil needs to be changed. I give her the go-ahead to fix whatever she thinks is necessary to keep her and Cami safe. She gives me a strange look before disappearing back into the garage.
Two hours later, I walk away from the store with a mile-long bill and a lightness in my chest that hasn’t been present for days. The trip back to the house is quick. I pull into the driveway and park Lana’s car in its usual spot before ringing the doorbell.
She walks out, clutching my keys in a tight fist. Based on her clenched jaw and crossed arms, things aren’t going well for me, regardless of the fixed car.
She takes a deep breath. “I received your note. You didn’t have to do that.
“It was the least I could do after yesterday.”
“Good thank you.” She says it quietly, as if admitting her appreciation out loud would have a greater impact.
“It’s okay. I had the mechanic change the other three to match because I didn’t want you driving in the rain with stripped tires.”
“You did it?” Her eyes flicker from the car to my face.
“Yes. Plus, he went ahead and changed the oil and also changed the windshield wipers with new ones.”
She covers her mouth.
Uncertainty leads me to ask, “Is he okay?” She nods, her glassy gaze still fixed on the car.
I give him the keys. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your day.”
We exchange keys. Her fingers touch the palm of my hand and electricity passes through my skin.
“Thank you. It was very nice of you to help me with the car. She disappears behind the door before I have a chance to answer her.
I didn’t expect much from her after last night’s incident, but a part of me still wanted more. More than exactly, I’m not very sure. All I know is that my previous confidence is replaced by a new wave of emptiness. Except this time, I choose not to drown it with alcohol. It’s a self-induced punishment that I accept wholeheartedly, knowing that it’s my fault Lana is upset in the first place.
That night I don’t go to bed drunk and numb. Instead, I go to bed alive and angry at my grandfather for putting me in the exact situation I knew would happen if I stayed last time.
|
I can’t replace the vase I broke. It’s a wasted effort to even try, but I head out Sunday morning to the local shopping center an hour from the lake hoping to find something to make up for my drunken accident.
Finding a vase is easy. The selection is endless, and I choose the prettiest and most expensive. Lana won’t care about the price, but maybe my efforts won’t go unnoticed.
While the cashier carefully wraps my purchase so it doesn’t break, I walk through the rest of the store. A bright cherry red stand mixer on a high shelf catches my eye. I think about Lana and her rickety hand mixer in her ninth life before calling the associate and asking her to charge the item to my card.
I’m not looking to buy Lana’s forgiveness.
I’m looking to buy your dream, even if you don’t anymore.
|
Since Lana took my key when I was drunk, I have to ring the doorbell and wait for her. At some point, I place the heavy stand mixer on the porch and hop on the tips of my toes while she takes her sweet time opening the door.
It creaks open and she blinks at me. “What do you want?” “I came to make peace.” I hold the bag with the vase.
“With gifts?” She frowns at the bag.
Safe to say that gifts are not part of their love language.
My hope dies along with any enthusiasm for the mixer. I step in front of the bag before she can see it while still holding the other one containing the vase. “I know I can’t replace what I broke, but I wanted to buy you a new vase anyway.”
She can’t reach it. “What is the point?”
“I’m trying to fix a problem I caused, not start more of them.”
“Then fix what really matters here, and spoiler warning, it’s not the vase.”
“I…” I lose the rest of my sentence.
“What was the point of going back to rehab if you were just going to start drinking again?”
My heart feels like someone is tearing it into pieces with the jaws of life. “I had lost my reason for being sober in the first place.”
His eyebrows furrow. “What? Money? Hockey? The will to live a normal life?”
