Enigma (7 page)

“Champagne doesn’t even have that high of alcohol content percentage. It isn’t like hard liquor. This just has a tiny bit to give it flavor, Mattie.” He sounded so matter of fact.

“Lena would really be upset if I took my first drink with someone else when she’s been begging me for a while.” I didn’t know what else I could say to distract Ian.

“Lena doesn’t have to know unless you tell her. I’m not going to say a word. This is our date, and Lena isn’t here. What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

He had made a very good point. He was right. Why did Lena have to know anything? If what he was telling me about the alcohol content, there shouldn’t be a problem.

“How much does it take to make you drunk?” Since drinking was a new adventure for me, I wanted to avoid any possibility of not being able to walk out of the restaurant by myself.

“Trust me, there isn’t even enough here to make you drunk. Just have one glass to see if you like the taste. If you don’t, then at least you can say you’ve tried it.”

It sounded simple enough. A glass of champagne seemed harmless. What could possibly go wrong if I had one glass of champagne? Then the voice inside was telling me not to do it. I felt it all the way to my bones, telling me to stay away and that it was only the gateway that led to darker things. Debating on whether or not to tell Ian to pour the contents of the bottle that sat in a bucket of ice, which sat on the table directly in front of me, I decided I was tired of that little voice telling me what to do. I was going to prove that I wasn’t as lame and predictable as Lena thought I was.

“Okay, fill it up.” With those four words, I watched Ian pop the cork out of the dark green bottle as foam exploded out the top and ran down the side onto his hand. After drying it off with his napkin, he proceeded to fill the crystal glass that sat in front of me with a sparkling, bubbly liquid that reminded me of ginger ale when poured in a glass.

After filling his own glass, Ian raised it in his hand and I did the same as we toasted the glasses. The tube-shaped glass reminded me of a tulip, and the slender stem felt delicate between my fingers, as if it would break right in half if I gripped it too hard. As the glass touched my bottom lip, it felt cold as the carbonated champagne flowed into my mouth. The taste was new and exotic to my taste buds as it flowed over my tongue. It was sweet but tart at the same time, with a little bit of fizz. The flavor made it feel like small shockwaves were going off in my mouth as I tried to get used to the taste.

I hadn’t even noticed I had emptied my glass already when the food arrived at the table and the waiter set our plates down on the white linen tablecloth. I folded my napkin in my lap, looking down at the arrangement of shrimp scampi and baked potato; the chef had made it look like a piece of artwork that was almost too pretty to eat. When I looked back up, I saw that my champagne glass had been refilled without having to ask for a refill. I didn’t feel drunk.

Before I knew it, we were on our third bottle of champagne and I had given up counting how many glasses I had consumed. What I did know was right now I really liked Ian, everything was funny, I had very poor coordination, and my vision was blurry.

When Ian suggested desert, I could no longer make out the words on the menu, so I just pointed at something and hoped whatever was delivered to the table tasted good. We were halfway through the third bottle of champagne, and I noticed Ian wasn’t drinking nearly as fast as I was. For a minute, I wondered if he had consumed as much as I had and how long he had been drinking on the same glass. But then the thought faded from my mind just as quickly as it had come. I really couldn’t focus on much at the moment, and I didn’t really care very deeply about anything. The room had started slowly turning in circles, and I was almost having to squint to see Ian clearly even though he was sitting right across the table from me.

As I went to pick up my glass to drink the last half of the champagne left that had finished off the bottle, I miscalculated where to put my hand and spilled it all over the front of my dress. Rather than being upset, I found it hilarious and laughed uncontrollably. Ian left some cash on the table and suggested it was time to go as he laughed at me.

The next thing I knew we were back in the Camaro, and this time Ian had put it on a local radio station that I listened to when I didn’t have my MP3 player with me. We were both singing at the top of our lungs as we flew down the highway without a care in the world. I had no idea where we were going or what was planned next for our date, but I was having a blast living in the moment. His crazy driving didn’t even cross my mind. I don’t even know that I was consciously aware that we were driving anywhere as I was happy being in my own world with this new incredible feeling.

We exited off of the highway, and I didn’t even recognize my own neighborhood as we pulled up in front of my house. I asked who lived there. Ian laughed at me again, helping me out of the car as I stumbled around, repeatedly tripping over my own feet, trying to find my keys in the bottom of my purse. Finally I dug them out of my purse, but I couldn’t even see which key went to the house as I held them up right in front of my face. Ian helped me walk to the door as I fumbled with the house key, trying to get it into the first of three locks on the door. Taking the keys from my hand, he slid the key into the lock with ease so I could turn it and unlock the top deadbolt. I hadn’t even made my way to trying to unlock the other locks on the door when out of nowhere, I decided kissing Ian seemed like a great idea.

I have no idea what came over me, but I dropped the keys and ran my fingers through Ian’s hair, pulling him into a kiss. Unfortunately, when our lips met, I couldn’t feel a thing! I felt pressure, but nothing else. Even though I could tell he was kissing with such intensity, I felt nothing. With my back against the front door so I wouldn’t lose my balance and fall flat on my face. Ian was right in front of me. I felt his hands run through my hair as I began to wonder when this was going to end. It wasn’t as much fun as I thought it would have been before I realized I was so drunk that I was numb all over. I pulled back, turning my head away, but he caught my face with his hand, forcing me to turn back to face him. He started kissing me harder, and I started to panic.

I had given him the green light that I was up for anything when I stupidly made the first advance. I felt his hands slide up my thighs as he gave a little tug at the hem of my skirt, sliding it up little by little. When I moved my hands onto his, trying to push them off of me, he grabbed my wrists, pinning me against the door. I wanted to cry. I wished someone, anyone, would notice that I didn’t want this to be happening. As he kissed me even more roughly, I felt my lip start to sting, followed by the salty taste of blood.

His hand moved to my face as he pulled his fingers through my hair, entwining them and pulling until I let out a whimper of pain. I felt myself giving into a losing battle, knowing I was too drunk and uncoordinated from the champagne to defend myself. As I felt my freedom slipping away, the voice inside began screaming at me to find the courage inside to stop this, causing goose bumps to rise on my skin. I had to fight to pull away, but somehow I managed to escape his grasp. Staring deeply into his eyes, trying to focus, Ian stared right back into my dilated pupils with a scary look in his eye that conveyed a threat of controlling me and making me do something I didn’t want to. If I could just come up with a way to get him to leave tonight, then I could deal with this later when I was sober.

“You want to take this inside where we can have more privacy?” he asked as he backed up, looking me over from head to toe as if he were undressing me with his eyes.

“Ian, I’ve really had a great time with you tonight, but I’m not ready for this,” I whispered, afraid of how he was going to react.

“Don’t you like the way it feels when I kiss you, baby?” he asked as he placed his lips near my ear.

If he only knew how badly I really wanted to scream at the top of my lungs until someone heard me and came to my rescue.

“You are a great guy, Ian. It’s just that I want to remember it when I give myself away. It isn’t something I want to do when I’m drunk and won’t remember,” I said, putting my hand on his cheek.

“Okay, we won’t do it tonight. I promise it will be special when it happens, okay?”

I nodded, not knowing exactly how to respond, trying to fight the urge to double over in the bushes and puke out the expensive meal and champagne he had just spent a small fortune on. Ian took a step back, looking at me as he ran his hands across his face, as if he were trying to wipe away his frustration, making me feel even more uncomfortable, even through my drunkenness. The cold outside was starting to make me shiver, which only made me feel more sick to my stomach as my mouth had started to water and caused me to clench my teeth. I was hoping he would leave soon because I really didn’t want to have to embarrass myself further by hurling all over his shiny, leather shoes.

“Mattie, I just want you to know you are beautiful and I can wait for a little while.” With that, he said good night and headed for his car.

I unlocked the door and stumbled up the stairs as I tried to make it to my bathroom as quickly as my drunken feet could carry me. I was so nauseated I did not know if I could make it in time. By the time I made it to the top of the staircase, I had to run so I didn’t vomit all over the carpet. I hugged the toilet for what had to have been thirty minutes straight. Sitting in my bathroom floor I was so cold, even though I was sweating through my clothes, as the nausea kept coming in waves, and I was retching so hard my eyes were watering.

As I wiped my eyes, my makeup smeared across my hand. I tried to get a wet washcloth, but every time I moved, it caused me to vomit more. Giving up, I lay down on the cold bathroom tile and tried to stay as still as possible to avoid further sickness but it was to no avail. I knew it was coming as soon as I would get really hot, clenching my teeth as my mouth started watering then, it just happened over and over again with no end in sight. The remainder of the night was spent with my head lying on the toilet seat, waiting for the next wave of nausea to hit.

By the time the sun was beginning to rise, I had vomited so hard and so many times every muscle in my stomach, back, and legs felt as if they were Jell-O, and due to my melted makeup situation, I looked like raccoon at a water park. I still had on the dress from last night, although it now reeked of champagne and vomit, my haired was tangled, and I was missing an earring that had probably been flushed down the toilet at some point during my hurl fest. I had never been this sick in my entire life. I’d finally stopped vomiting and crawled to the bathroom sink in an attempt to pull myself up high enough to turn on the faucet and wet a washcloth, but I didn’t have the energy. I gave up again and lay back onto the floor when I heard my bedroom door open.

As soon as Lena saw me lying on the floor looking like death warmed over, she started laughing.

“Mattie, are you okay?”

“No!” I said, fighting my gag reflex.

“What happened?”

Before I could answer, I started gagging again and Lena helped me back into what I referred to as the toilet closet. I dry heaved nonstop for about ten minutes before I could stop my gag reflex.

“To answer your question, three bottles of champagne happened to me,” I answered as I dropped my head into the toilet and started another fit of the dry heaves.

“Geez, Mattie, three bottles? We’re going to have to work on your alcohol tolerance!”

I pressed the cold washcloth Lena tossed at me to my face, trying to calm my breathing.

“I was thinking I would try it since Ian made it sound so inviting, and eventually it just made me stop thinking period.”

“How long have you been in here?” she asked, sounding only mildly concerned.

I figured she would still be mad from yesterday, since she was normally a grudge holder, but I guessed right now with the way I looked, anybody would have felt sorry for me and at least waited until later to scream.

“All night,” I stammered, still fighting my gag reflex as I responded through clenched teeth, holding my jaw tight, trying not to dry heave again.

“We need to get you cleaned up,” Lena said as she crinkled her nose.

I nodded my head since that was about all I could do at the moment to let her know I was in agreement before laying my head back against the wall and closing my eyes in an attempt to concentrate on making the churning in my stomach stop.

“I think I need to go to the hospital,” I managed to say through lethargy.

“No!” Lena shouted at me.

“Lena, I think I’m dying,” I barely whimpered as I started to cry.

“You’ve just got some alcohol poisoning, that’s all. You can’t die, especially not from that,” Lena snapped.

“People do die from that, Lena. Just drive me to the emergency room, please?” I pleaded through my tears.

“No, no hospitals, absolutely not. I’m sorry, Mattie, it’s just out of the question. They can’t do anything for you anyway. You just need fluids and rest. You’ll be fine,” Lena said. Her voice had become irritated.

I did not understand why she was so against the idea of me going to the emergency room. It wasn’t like I went all the time, calling attention to myself that would hurt her or her dad’s reputation. I knew I was dehydrated enough that they would hook me up to an IV and give me some saline, take my blood to determine my blood/alcohol level, treat me accordingly, and send me home with a spank on the hand since it was my first offense. I had no intention of telling them who gave me the alcohol, if that’s what she was worried about. I could care less about getting anyone in trouble. I just knew I was sick and I needed help!

Lena had already gotten out my pajamas, a towel, and washcloth in a matter of minutes. She turned on my shower and adjusted the water temperature. Putting my body wash, shampoo, and conditioner in the bottom on the tiles, she instructed me to undress and crawl in, letting the warm water wash over me. I took my shower sitting down next to the drain in the center so that I wouldn’t fall and hurt myself. She told me when I got done to leave the shower running and she would come in and turn everything off after I had gotten into my pajamas. Once I had my instructions, she helped me unzip the back of my dress and left, closing the bathroom door behind her.