Chasing Peace (14 page)

Annie is waiting for me on the steps, waving to get my
attention. I wave back before turning to confirm it’s Boston. I was right.

“Hey Sterling. It’s still tough isn’t it?” It’s Annie,
although some days I wish Boston would talk.

“I suppose.” It comes out on a sigh as if talking is too
much effort.

“I have just the thing to cheer you up!”

We’re walking up the steps to philosophy and I don’t answer
until we’re settled in the far side of the room, midway between front and back.
I’m not sure I want to be cheered up. “Okay, what?” I raise my eyebrows, hoping
for something I can blow off.

“There’s a frat party on Thursday. It’s just what you need.”
She’s excited and I don’t want to be a downer, but socializing is probably the
last thing I need. “You can meet some new people—and by people I mean guys.”
Annie waggled her eyebrows, an irrepressible grin on her face.

“Oh, no way!” I protest with hands up in front of me in
surrender. “That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“Fine then you can drown your misery in drink. You’re coming
along if I have to drag you behind my car.” She set her jaw, staring hard as if
daring me to decline.

“Fine. I’ll go if you promise not to drink.” I thought I had
her. I really did. She always drinks so much at parties that I thought she
couldn’t say no.

“Fine. I’ll drive and I won’t drink. Should I pick you up at
home?”

I’d backed myself into a corner and had no choice. If I
weren’t so distracted, I’d have seen this coming. I didn’t think she’d abstain,
but I’d made a deal. “Fine,” I snap without a shred of grace.

“It’ll be fun. You’ll see … and it might take your mind off
of him or maybe help you realize what a great thing you’re throwing away.”

“We’ll see,” I grumble like the sore loser that I am.

Boston wasn’t there when we left class. “I’ll pick you up at
nine,” Annie calls as we part.

I wander back to my car, watching for Boston, but not seeing
him. Then tension goes out of me. When he’s around, I feel like I might change
my mind and I have to maintain my guard to keep those feelings at bay.

Sliding into the driver’s seat and jamming my key into the
ignition, I slouch, dejected. Tipping my head back against the rest, I sigh. I’m
disappointed when he’s not around, but it’s easier than feeling bitchy and
tense when he is.

Sighing again, I open my eyes and turn the key. Sitting up
straight, I put my car into gear and begin to nose out of the parallel space.
Checking my blind spot, I see him. Boston is across the street, leaning against
a parking meter, his image appearing between the cars driving by. He raises his
hand and waves as I pull out into traffic.

Watching my rearview far too often than is safe, I see him
step away from the post and jog across the street in the direction of his dorm.

When I pull into the parking lot at home, I wonder if a
party might be just what I need.

Dropping my bag, I flip on all the lights. My home feels
dreary these days, much like it did when I lost Emma. Pulling the last glass
from the cabinet, I mumble, “Great, now I have to do dishes too. I grab the
bottle of vodka, light glinting and sparkling in the cold crystal liquid as I
pour more than my fair share.

A healthy swallow and I’m ready to tackle the dishes.
Feeling almost normal, I grab the soap and pull open the dishwasher. I bend to
fill the detergent cup and pull back frowning. I pull out the rack, and there’s
one lonely plate with toast crumbs and a swipe of jam. The top rack is full. My
glasses are all dirty and my dishes are all clean.

Slamming the door shut, I yank open the refrigerator. There’s
no food. I dump half a quart of milk dated last week down the drain and throw
out bread that’s turning green. The eggs are good for a couple days. That’s it.

I sigh, leaning my hands against the counter, my head
drooping between my shoulders. I think I should get some groceries, but I’m not
hungry right now. I’ll do it later.

Grabbing my glass, I drain it before tipping the bottle for
another splash. I grab my glass, consider the bottle and then grab it too as I
turn toward the living room. The futon is calling my name.

I limit myself to one drink at work so I can drive myself
home. More would deaden the pain, especially with Boston across the room, but I
have to content myself with the one. At least I do now that Lyla reminded me.

I never wanted to drink, although events of the past weeks
have provided some insight into why my mother drinks. Drinking and driving, on
the other hand, that’s something I’ll never do. I feel guilty enough about Emma
as it is.

I need to do some laundry I think as I climb into Annie’s
car, trying not to flash the neighbors. I’m wearing a dress, and I look like I’m
headed to a club, not a campus frat party.

“You look great Sterling. You should wear dresses more
often.”

“Yeah right.” I feel a little bit sleazy and easy dressed
like this, but I don’t want to complain too much since it’s Annie’s dress. She’s
quite a lot shorter than I am. I can feel air from the heater blowing across my
chest while cold from the seat seeps into the backs of my bare thighs.

“Seriously, you look great.”

“This seat wouldn’t be so cold if I had jeans on.”

“One of the many sacrifices women make for fashion.” She
chuckles at my irritated distress. “Here.” Leaning over, she flips a switch on
my side of the console. “Let’s warm that seat up, so you quit complaining. Now
stop fidgeting.” She brushes my hands from the hem of the dress where I’m
trying to yank it down just a little bit further. “You should wear makeup more
often Sterling. You look exotic with your eyes done and when the guys get a
look at you, you’ll see.”

“I’m not looking for a guy you know. Getting together with
Boston had been a mistake and getting together with anyone else right now would
be even worse.”

“You don’t have to get together with anyone. Just meet some
new people and dance and enjoy yourself. You’ll see.”

“We’ll see.” My agreement, if you can call it that, is
sullen.

We drive to a different neighborhood for this party. The
houses are rundown with peeling paint, grimy windows and yards that are more
weeds and dirt than grass. “I don’t know about this Annie. This is pretty
gritty. Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

“Don’t worry about it. These are mostly college rentals, so
the landlords don’t maintain the property.”

I spotted the house well down the road. Parked cars lined
the streets and we snagged a spot close to the house, arriving just as another
car left.

We could hear the music as we approached. Students
congregated outside in spite of the frigid air, corralled by a chain-link fence
surrounding the front yard. Packed dirt took the place of grass. Voices buzzed
at a dull roar, nearly drowned out by music coming from upstairs windows.

Looking up, I see the house moving as if pulsing in time to
the music. No. That can’t be right.

We dodge groups of students in the yard, picking our way to
the door. The house, divided into an upper and a lower flat, throbbed with
music.

“Well hello ladies.” He wore a fedora and suit jacket with
jeans a tee and chucks. “Come on in.”

We cross the threshold into a crowded entry, our bodies
brushing others as we pass. He steps close, his hand on my shoulder, his mouth
close to my ear as if whispering. “I’m Jake and I’m available.”

“Nice. I’m not.” He’d had enough to drink that he didn’t
even notice the derision in my voice.

“Don’t listen to her. She’s single and looking to dance with
as many guys as possible,” said Annie, the traitor.

Jake nodded to a guy coming through the door from the
downstairs flat. “This is my buddy Chaz. Chaz meet Annie and Sterling. We’re
heading upstairs.”

I could feel the building thumping as we started up the
stairs. Jake grabbed my hand, dragging me along behind. I held onto Annie for
dear life so that we wouldn’t be separated. I don’t know if Chaz followed
along, but I suspect he had hold of Annie too.

We had to weave our way through couples hanging out on the
steps, some talking, others making out. The dim light cast a yellow glow over
the fifteen to twenty people we wended through. I brushed against guys and
girls and no one paid any attention to us, absorbed in their own interactions.

As we crested the top of the stairs, I understood why the
house beat as if alive. Music blared from a surround-sound system suspended from
thick gray tubing that looked like plumbing pipe or vehicle exhaust pipe. The
pipe encircled the room providing throbbing music from all directions. It
looked like a hundred dancers, mostly guys, bounced as if one, a wave of energy
that made the ground shake like a never-ending earthquake.

One pulled away from the group, turning our way with a
frenetic look in his eyes. He sang the lyrics at the top of his lungs and
jumped, stomping his feet in time to the music.

“Let’s dance,” said Jake. Squeezing our way through the
crowd and past furniture pushed up against the walls, we found a spot near a
fireplace with a giant mirror mounted above. A pair of spotlights on the mantle
flashed colored lights around the room.

After a couple of dances, Chaz and Jake headed out to find
drinks while Annie and I went looking for a bathroom. Two rooms away, the music
thumped loud enough to make conversation difficult as we waited in line for the
bathroom.

“Do you need to go?” Annie hollered.

I didn’t, but I didn’t want to get separated either. “No,
but I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. I don’t need to go either. I just thought we should
get out of there. Don’t want to settle or get stuck with the first guys that we
meet tonight.”

I laughed at Annie’s ploy as she dragged me through the
kitchen toward the back of the flat. Outside the door, we run into a guy coming
up the back stairs with drinks in his hands. “Looks like you need drinks. Here.”
He shoved plastic cups in our direction.

“Luke!”

He did a double take. “Well if it isn’t Sterling.”

Taking a cup from his outstretched hand, I drink half of it.
Hmm, I guess I don’t like beer, but I drink it anyway.

I turn to Annie. “You might not remember Luke, but he
watched over you while Boston and I danced at that first frat party.

“Thanks Luke. So what, you’re like a knight in shining
armor,” Annie challenged him with a saucy tone.

I snatched the second cup dangling from his fingers. “I’ll
take that too. She’s not drinking.” Annie gave me a funny look. “What? I’m
thirsty,” I say, pretending.

Heat hangs in the air like smog and after dancing so close
to so many warm bodies it’s as good an excuse as any for needing some
refreshment. At least that’s what I tell myself, trying to drown out the images
of dancing with Boston that arrived with Luke’s presence.

Hands at my waist and hot breath by my ear stinking of stale
beer make me jump as a guy behind me tries to nuzzle my neck. With full hands
in close quarters, I sidestep to avoid his mouth. Instead I end up sloshing
beer over my hand.

“Come here honey.” Luke pulls me loose, spinning me out of
the molester’s hands and away from his seeking mouth without spilling a drop of
my beer. He holds me close, my back pressed to his front, a strong arm wrapped
around my middle. “Get lost. She’s with me.”

It worked like a charm. We stood, Annie with mouth agape, me
not quite sure what just happened as the guy trying to be a little too friendly
backed away, hands raised as if at gunpoint.

“Stay frosty man, I’m just trying to make some friends.”

After he left, I wiggled a bit and Luke let me go. I’d been
startled, but not afraid. I can hold my own.

“That’s what you get for being a lush.” Annie laughed, a
sparkle in her eyes as she took his hand.

“Great timing Luke. I’m Annie and Sterling here is in the
market for a companion while she works on a falling-down drunk.”

He stepped aside with a smile motioning to the stairs as we
pass. “Shall we find more drinks?”

Weaving past people thicker on the back stairs than they had
been on the front, we finally make it to the first floor. A bar setup in the
kitchen included a half barrel in the corner where a table should be and a
peninsula weighed down with liquor bottles and mixers. I downed my second beer
as I made a beeline for the bar.

“Can I trade up?” I hand him my empty plastic cups.

“Sure. Whaddaya want … wait let me guess. Screwdriver?”

“Nope.”

“Fuzzy navel?”

“Wrong again.”

“Sex on the beach?”

“Not even close. What kind of bartender are you?”

“The working on my bachelor’s kind, so I don’t have to do
this for a living.”

I laugh my first real laugh in days. “Do you underestimate
every woman you meet?”

“So you’re a serious drinker. Rum and Coke?” I shook my head
in the negative as his eyes assessed my dress and shoes, well, Annie’s dress. “Long
Island?”

“Close,” but I continue shaking my head, a smirk on my lips
threatening to burst into a laugh.

“I give up.”

“Vodka straight.” I smile now.

“Whoa, a needs-to-get-drunk-now kind of drinker.” He pulls a
tall round bottle with a blue cap from behind the collection of cheap stuff. “On
the rocks?”

“Straight and if you fill that cup, I won’t have to bother
you so much.” The heat in the house didn’t seem quite so hot now as the liquor
seeped into me, making me loose and mellow.

I sipped at the vodka, my eyes connected to his and a silly
smile on my face. I didn’t want to be silly and naive, but I couldn’t seem to
help myself.

“Oh. Annie.” I tense, looking around the kitchen wondering
how I could completely forget about her.

“She’s right there.” The bartender pointed and I wilted in relief.
Annie and Luke had their heads together in an intimate conversation. “Maybe he
likes her,” I mutter, remembering how Boston and I often talked with our heads
together like that.

I swipe at my eyes, my vision flashing fuzzy around the
edges. The last thing I need is to cry because of Boston. I sip at my vodka,
feeling dejected and alone in a room pulsing with life and crowded with bodies.

I’m drooping, seeing little but the images inside my head.

“There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”

I could see Boston’s face swimming before my eyes, but this
is a different voice. “Hmmm … what?”

“This way.” He ushered me through the door to the back
stairs.

Something’s not right. I don’t panic, but I try to object. “Wait.
Where are we going? I need to find Annie.” That’s how it sounded in my head,
but the mumbles coming from my mouth aren’t nearly as coherent to my ears as I
sag. I might have fallen, but for the guy supporting me.

That’s when I began to panic.

I struggle feebly, trying to grab hold of people we pass on
the steps. I can see in flashes, long blonde hair hanging like a curtain, the
back of a shoulder, a belt buckle, the profile of a guy with curly red hair. I
can’t find anyone’s eyes and my voice doesn’t work right, everything coming out
in mumbles not sounding coherent to my mind any longer.

A door comes into focus before me. I’d seen it before, but I
can’t quite remember. My focus narrows to the door knob as a pale hand with
dark, wiry hair sprouting from the knuckles grasps and turns, opening the door.
I think troll and then my thoughts drift again. We’re through the door into a
darkness that encompasses me, but it’s not entirely black. I see shades of
charcoal until everything turns dark amber as if I’m looking at old photos or
looking through root-beer-colored glasses.

Without warning my world goes black. I can’t tell whether we’re
in pitch darkness or I’ve closed my eyes. I’m wary and I want to sleep forever.
Maybe I missed the warning.

* * *

Consciousness returns slowly, washing over me gradually, but
with the determination of an advancing tide. I feel a stabbing pain in my hip.
It pulls me to the surface away from the comfort of dreams, the peace of Morpheus,
almost to reality, but not quite.

As I float in that space, I no longer think about Emma. Now
I think about Boston, my mind slow to wake up to the most recent changes.

I open my eyes. I am awake, but I’m disoriented. My first
thought is confusion about where I am, but I’m home in my own bed.

Why should I be confused? Well, I don’t remember coming
home. I don’t remember going to bed. I lift the duvet to see I’m wearing yoga
pants and a tee. It feels like I stumbled to bed drunk, but I have no memory,
not even flashes of memory. Dropping the blanket with a sigh, I sift through my
mind looking for answers.

I remember dancing with Jake and Chaz. I wrack my brain, but
I can’t remember anything else, including how I got home.

Like a flash I see Boston looking down at me, brows coming
together creating furrows over his nose. He looks angry or frustrated, his face
pinched with tension. It dissolves like a dream floating away.

Why can’t I remember anything?

I struggle to my feet and head to the bathroom, leaning and
off balance, my mind whirling.

* * *

Huddled at a corner table, I wait for Annie, hoping she can
fill in the blanks from last night. My coffee is hot, scalding my tongue as I
sip absently, my mind struggling to remember. I’m facing the door. People are
moving in and out in front of my eyes, but they don’t register.

“Sterling.” Annie slides into the chair next to mine. “Are
you okay?”

“Yeah. I think so. How much did I drink?”

Annie has a pastry with her coffee and takes a minute to
answer while she chews. You had two beers and a really big vodka that I saw.
After that you disappeared so I couldn’t tell you what else you had. Where did
you go?”

“I don’t remember anything after dancing with those two
guys.”

“Nothing?” Annie probes. “You don’t remember taking off with
anyone?”

“I don’t remember drinking anything, just dancing, and then
nothing.”

“Oh shit,” she rests her elbows on the table leaning close. “You
think maybe you got roofied?”

“Drugged?” I wrack my brain for the thousandth time this
morning. “You think someone messed with my drink?”

“Could be,” she says, her tone questioning and kind of
excited like she’d solved a mystery.

“But I don’t think I’ve been raped.”

“Good. That means Boston got to you in time.”