Awake (2 page)

-3-

This is the second time I’ve woken up on Saturday. It’s night now, but not too late. Just after seven. The shades are open. Distant street light filters through the glass and illuminates one of my walls.

I don’t move. I don’t want to disturb my thoughts. My back aches from ten hours on the couch. My head aches from a night full of shitty memories and even shittier choices. The question of who I am exhausts me and I decide to take a break from all that.

The light seems to be moving on the wall, a small spot shivering almost imperceptibly. I try to figure out what causes this quiet phenomenon; some series of physical laws I have never learned. It’s like the window is breathing the outside world gently into my room and making it more than it once was.

The silence is filled with anticipation. The land line has been ringing the past hour and I have not answered it. When it rings again I will pick it up and I will hear Kat’s excited voice if I am lucky or if not I will hear my stepmother’s disappointed voice.

I’ll pick it up either way. Life goes on after all.

Jamison was a perfect match for me. We dated six months and for two of them I kind of adored the boy. For a rich boy he had a devilish sense of humor, but he was never hurtful or judgmental. He had these big shoulders and rowed on the crew at Dartmouth.

He grew up in Newport Beach and returned to Los Angeles for medical school at UCLA. I met him at a Halloween party. He was dressed as a toothbrush and for the longest time after that I kept thinking he wanted to be a dentist. The ridiculous image of those white bristles surrounding his tan face was hard to shake.

The problem with Jamie was he was absolutely sweet. I eventually realized we would never quite be on the same wave length. He loved the idea of being in love so much that I could never be sure if he wanted to know all the messed up parts of my shabby self. We became lopsided. He loved me madly and I felt guilty about not equaling his love.

The night he became terse and impatient with me I ended it right there in the middle of a Thai restaurant. I knew later I had done the right thing when my biggest regret was not eating my Pad Thai before breaking up with Jamison.

The ringing of my land line calls me back to the present world. Kat insists we get latte and scones at Peet’s. I agree but warn her I’m just going to throw my wild bed head under a baseball cap and I’m rolling sans makeup.

Kat already has a table when I get to Peet’s. The waitress, Lily from my spring comp lit class, arrives almost instantly with our order.

“You guys be good,” Lily says as she leaves us.

“Did she just give us the
get a life
vibe?” Kat asks.

“Can you blame her; I’m dressed for celebrity rehab.”

Kat shakes her head.

“What?” I say.

“Girls want to punch a girl like you when you pretend you look like a hag?” Kat sips her latte.

“I look like Bigfoot’s dick,” I say.

“That’s charming,” Kat says fighting off a smile. “Do you have any lines that are not from a movie?”

“You’re from a movie,” I say and nibble on my scone.

“You’re so broken,” she says. “And you don’t look like a hag at all, even
sans makeup
you look like every man’s little fuck toy. I hate you.”

“I’m the fuck toy? Really?” I say trying to find the best words for this next thing. “I’m not the one who was riding the pony express this morning at the crack of dawn.”

Shock breaks out all over her face. “I am quite sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“A little late for the prim and proper voice,” I point out even though I love it when she uses the vernacular of the east coast rich.

She blushes proudly. “You bitch, you spied on us.”

“You were hardly behind closed doors,” I remind her.

“Well, it really helped clear my head,” she offers weakly.

I swallow my latte trying not to spit it out. “I’m certain it did the same for Kip.”

Although we enjoy the banter, we turn our attention to the scones. On one level I am happy for Kat. I decide not to ask if she will see Kip again. His reputation precedes him. He’s a nice guy but he’s famously all about the game and not interested in anything serious.

Kat doesn’t need that anyway. She got what she needed, a breathtaking experience that moved her one step beyond her broken heart. All I got was a bloody toe, a hangover and, oh yeah, the stupidly sexy boyfriend of my mortal enemy calling me fucking Emily.

“Missing something?” Kat says sliding my cell phone across the table.

My eyes light up. “My precious.”

“I dried it out in the sun. Still works.”

“It’s so pathetic how much I need this thing,” I say.

“Your Mom called like four times and I don’t recognize the other number that called twice,” Kat says.

I roll through the missed calls. I don’t recognize the number either. “Probably just Samir calling from Mumbai about my DirecTV.”

“They have probably heard about you in Mumbai after last night.”

“I’m not sure I want to know what happened last night.”

Kat shakes her head. “You were convinced you could fly.”

“Who pulled me from the pool?”

“Kip heard a girl scream,” Kat says. “He ran out there and dove into the pool and pulled you out.”

“And then?”

“I dried you off and put you in the guest bedroom. We even had a conversation. Don’t you remember anything?”

I shake my head. “Not a thing.”

Kat chuckles. “You said that everyone had lizard skin at that party and that we had to escape or use their skin to make designer handbags.”

“Oh,” I say. “You have to give me credit for wanting to recycle.”

“Let’s get some real clothes on you and go clubbing,” Kat suggests. “Come on, we’ll do it sober. A couple of red bulls and we’re good.”

I put my credit card on the check and wave her off. “Nope. I’m done. I’m sick of it all. I just want to get under my blankets and disappear.”

“It’s Saturday night, Erin. That’s like Code Orange depressing.” Kat grabs my free hand. “Are you okay? I mean, you were very erratic last night. Is there something happening with you?”

I must admit, Kat’s beautiful hazel eyes and sincerity improve my sour mood. “Nothing, maybe that’s the problem, there has to be more to life than money and boys and parties.”

“I know, right?” Kat says, rolling her eyes.

* * *

KAT DRIVES ME BACK to my apartment and all I can think of is who the unknown number belongs to on my cell phone. I resist the temptation to call it in the elevator. I decide to get out of my frumpy clothes and into my bed for the first time in two days.

I know Kat was right. It’s a sign of depression that I feel most myself when alone in bed in total silence or, in certain moods, with some chill tunes playing at a low volume. I opt for some old Radiohead at a soft volume before I dial the unknown number from beneath a fluffy mound of blankets.

“It’s you,” he says quietly.

It’s him. “You don’t even know my name,” I say. My voice is so thin and fragile I am immediately mortified.

“Erin,” he says. Wade’s voice around my name is the best apology I have ever heard. “I don’t know why Emily came out of my mouth before. I’ve always known your name.”

“All right,” I say trying to sound suddenly indifferent. Wade is Tori’s boyfriend and I have no business flirting with him even if I’ve been trying to remember the way he smelled all night long.

“I’m driving. Let me pull over.”

I can visualize the way his tan arms handle the steering wheel and a shudder moves slowly from the top to the bottom of me.

“I’m just calling—” he struggles to find the words.

“Why are you calling? How did you get this number?”

“I wanted to check on you, to see you are okay. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do, don’t you think?”

“Do you often compliment yourself?” I ask him. “Does a gentleman with a girlfriend call another woman in the middle of the night?”

He laughs his sexy laugh. Asshole. I’m really trying to be a good girl.

“Actually, you just called me,” he finally says.

I’m an idiot. It seems I am destined for endless embarrassment whenever Wade Donovan is around. And it seems no pair of pink panties survives long in his vicinity. His voice is like a high pressure system rushing through my little body. Precipitation likely. I have to hang up with him.

“Erin, did I lose you?” he asks after an awkward silence.

“I appreciate the ride. I’m good. Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he says.

“There won’t be another time,” I say. “Goodnight, Wade.” I hang up before he can say goodbye. I tell myself it’s not him. It’s my own sense of pointlessness and maybe the exhaustion from all the chemical chaos I had done to my body last night.

He might as well be Ryan Gosling or Ryan Phillippe or Ryan, what’s his name? The Green Lantern guy. A boy anyone would fall for when in a certain state of dissolution. I slide out of my panties and throw them off into the darkness. I decide to not think of Wade again and, as he has somehow staked claim over them, I am through with pink panties.

Solutions are fucking simple, as my Dad likes to say when he’s pissed off at one plant manager or another. I need to be more like my father’s daughter. I need to kick some ass in this world and take names, but it would be good if I forgot at least one name.

-4-

I’m enjoying a nice morning tea and about to flip my veggie omelet when there’s a knock. It’s Rodrigo picking me up for a commitment with my stepmother that I don’t ever remember making.

Forty minutes later after forcing Rodrigo to share my omelet and getting ready in record time for some special brunch the details of which escape me, I am being dropped off at the front door of Maison Giraud up in the Palisades.

Through the all glass front of the restaurant I can see my stepmother hugging a leggy brunette in a gorgeous pale green summer dress. Before she even turns around and flashes those blinding white teeth of hers, my heart turns to ice. Tori.

We’re meeting Tori and her mother for brunch. Now I know I never agreed to this. My stepmother had said she wanted me to meet an old friend of hers. It’s all coming back. My stepmother is a terrible con man.

They spot me and what can I do but wave? It’s official. This is the weekend from hell and seemingly it’s never going to end. If Tori tries to hug me all bets are off. Arch enemies don’t hug. Arch enemies impale each other with salad forks.

“There she is,” my stepmother says disapprovingly as I approach. She lies to me to get me to commit and yet is disappointed at me for being two minutes late. I wish I had her nerve.

Joyce, Tori’s mother, kisses me on the cheek and directs me to a seat. Tori smiles to me from across the table. Something’s up. Tori actually looks sweet and humbled. Almost human. For the first time I notice what an incredible full figure she has for such a tall, skinny girl. I bet Wade enjoys that. I’m seeing her through his eyes and I don’t like it. Her full lips and cute porcelain nose obviously look less evil to him.

“You look lovely today, Tori,” I say sensing this whole brunch was somehow more meaningful to her than the rest of us.

“Thanks, Erin,” she says with such sincerity I feel like she is fighting tears. Fuck. This is not good. She’s almost likeable. I wonder if the Friday night mushrooms are still distorting my reality.

“What is it?” my stepmother inquires happily.

Joyce reaches out to touch Tori’s shoulder. Tori puts her hand on her mother’s hand and blushes. The sight of all this makes it a battle to keep my veggie omelet down.

“Tori’s engaged,” Joyce gushes.

My stepmother can’t believe her ears and for a moment I try to mutate those words in my memory hoping Joyce said
Tori’s engorged
or
Tori’s enraged
. No such luck. The ice queen is totally engaged to Mr. Cool.

“How wonderful, Tori,” my stepmother says getting out of her chair and taking Tori into her arms with genuine excitement for hug number two today.

“That’s great, Tori,” I manage to spit out with perhaps the weakest ass smile ever mustered in the three-year history of Maison Giraud.

My stepmother glares at me as she sits back down and so, on cue, I reach across the table to let Tori receive my congratulatory hand. She uses both of her hands to take mine.

“The Donovan boy?” I ask in a way that unintentionally, I think, makes Tori sound like she got around.

Tori nods happily taking no offense. Joyce bends her face at me.

“Of course, dear,” Joyce begins. “They’ve been dating for two years. Two peas in a pod they are. Two peas in a pod.”

“Dating the same boy for two years, can you imagine that, Erin?” my snake-skinned stepmother says clarifying for all that I’m the real slut at the table.

“When did all this happen?” I say in a slightly more enthusiastic tone. Acting is a big part of life I’ve come to realize especially if you’re rich in Los Angeles.

“Friday night,” Tori beams. “He took me to the ocean and somehow he had a bottle floating there in the shallow waters.”

“Oh goody,” I involuntarily blurt out. My stepmother kicks my ankle under the table. I cover my wincing face with a smile.

“The moon was just so and I ran to this bottle like a little girl having no idea he had anchored it to the sand and—” Tori covers her mouth to catch herself. I feel like doing the same to catch my omelet. “When I see the thick rope around the bottle,” she goes on, “I know this is not an accident. The moonlight, the bottle, his clean shave. This is all Wade. It’s all intentional.”

“Dreamy,” I say and decide not to check for daggers in my stepmother’s eyes. “How thoughtful of him.”

“I know,” Tori laughs and reaches out for her mother again. “We spent the whole night on the beach by the fire he built for us.”

I realize we have not even ordered yet and this has already been the longest meal of my entire life. This all happened Friday night. Wade and Tori became two peas in a pod and I peed in a pool. If there has ever been a competition between Tori and me, this is me being asked to leave the arena.

My only revenge is to order food these three ladies would never dare to order. I literally want to eat whip cream on a pile of bacon right in front of these three manicured flamingos. I want to make their perfect little brunch into a gross spectacle.

I don’t. I’m not hungry. I just order the fruit plate. Bullshit.

* * *

KAT COMES OVER AND we blow off studying to get in my bed with Haagen Daz and watch
Mean Girls
and
Superbad
back-to-back. It helps. I’m not worried about the bio-chem test because we only count four of the five tests this semester so if this one goes south, it just disappears.

“There’s something new,” Kat says right in the middle of the Aaron and Cady kissing at the dance scene.

“What do you mean?” I say. “How could there be anything new? We’ve watched it twenty times.”

“I’m not talking about the movie,” Kat says picking up the remote to pause both the kiss and Samantha Ronson singing on the soundtrack.

“Come on, Kat, I love that song,” I protest.

“Spill,” she says.

“I’d rather not,” I say.

“Don’t make me laugh,” she says.

“How did you know?”

“How could I not?”

She pinches my arm impatiently.

“It’s nothing,” I say pushing her away. “A guy got in my head. He called me by the wrong name.”

She tilts her head at me and I know she’ll need more. “What guy?”

“Samir,” I say.

This confuses her until it doesn’t. “The missed calls from your cell phone?”

I nod and exhale. “It’s a big nothing. Trust me.”

“No one trusts anyone with perfect teeth, just so you know.”

“That was weird,” I say stating the obvious.

“So? Who is he? Do tell.”

“You don’t know him,” I say. “Walking home from Kip’s place he saw me and gave me a ride and then he called me Emily.”

“If I don’t know him,” Kat begins, “then how do you know him? Must be one of the trust fund boys your stepmom always wants you to date?”

“Not really. God, you’re annoying.” I consider Kat’s determined eyes and realize I need to give her more. “It’s actually the guy that asked Tori to marry him. Coincidentally.”

Kat’s stupid jaw drops. “Erin Cassidy, you psycho bitch. You hate this girl so much you want to kick boots with her fiancé.”

“I don’t hate her.”

“But you’re not denying the part where you want to get down and dirty with her man?”

“Not everything is a Mexican soap opera, Kat.”

“Nope. Not everything, but this is, isn’t it, Consuelo?”

She gets me to smile which she takes as a confession.

“So busted,” she says in triumph.

“You want to listen or not?” I say with a little pissiness.

“I’m all ears,” she says.

“This has nothing to do with me. It’s her. How did she get a good guy to commit his whole life to her? I’m not the only one who has noticed her general pompous and condescending shittiness.”

“Erin, I’ve seen this girl, a guy could forgive a lot for a girl who looks like Tori and whose father has bottomless wealth.”

“It’s not my business. It’s just an unhealthy curiosity.”

“I know what you need,” Kat says letting me off the hook. She pops out
Mean Girls
and the romantic kiss to quickly replace it with
Superbad
. “It’s time for a little McLovin,” she says and hits play.