Intoxicated (37 page)

“I know, dad,” I whispered into his
shoulder.

He held me at arm’s length, studying my face
intently. I stared back at him, doing the same. It was this weird
father – daughter connection thing we had between us, how we could
communicate without saying a word. He could tell that I was
conflicted even if he hadn’t been clued in to the cause. And I knew
he was advising me to be as thorough as I typically was when I
considered a major decision. His eyes shifted in Eric’s direction,
and he nodded slightly.

“I just want you to be happy,” he said
softly, low enough for Eric not to overhear, “no matter what. Even
if it takes you two hours away.”

I closed my eyes, digesting his wisdom. When
I had left Indianapolis, I hadn’t just left Eric behind. My dad and
Gracie were also here, yet they didn’t complain about it. True,
being someone’s child or friend was a lot less complicated from a
distance than being someone’s girlfriend.

“Now don’t cry,” he soothed, acknowledging
the tears that formed so easily beneath my lashes, “it’s
Christmas.”

“I know. I’ll be fine.” I brushed away the
moisture with my thumbs, giggling slightly at my
sentimentality.

“I know you will.” He smiled warmly at
me.

Eric had retrieved my coat and purse from the
closet and he handed them to me, eager to get the show on the
road.

“Doug,” he gestured to my dad, turning on the
salesman voice, “it was a great time as always.”

“Eric,” my father intoned, the mocking nature
not lost on me, “it was my pleasure. Take care of yourself.”

His last words struck me as a bit strange.
Perhaps a piece of advice, a little reference to their earlier
discussion? I shook my head as I eased on my outerwear. Gracie had
me reading too much into everything. Not that I needed much help in
that department.

Eric ushered me out of the door, his hand
brushing against the small of my back. His touch was warm,
familiar, but I shivered at the contact.

“Cold?”

I nodded, thankful that I could blame the
weather for my reaction. I wasn’t entirely sure that the climate
had anything to do with it. It had turned out to be a bitterly cold
day. Every once in a while, a snow flurry teased at the possibility
of a white Christmas, but never quite delivered.

Eric turned the heater in the BMW on full
blast, and I was quickly comforted by its warmth. He still had a
grin on his face as he maneuvered the car through the relatively
empty streets back to his condo.

“You going to let me in on the joke?” I asked
good-naturedly.

He turned to me, his green eyes practically
sparkling. “Maybe someday.”

“Was it that good of a game?” I prodded,
playing along.

He shrugged. “Maybe I was just thinking of
the gift you got me.”

I blushed. “Please tell me you didn’t tell my
dad.”

He snorted. “Do you really think I would do
that?” he scoffed, reaching over to ruffle my hair.

“No, but for a minute, I was very
afraid.”

He laughed, a pleasing sound that came from
his core. It had been quite some time since I had seen him this
animated. If he were like this all of the time, there would be no
competition, real or imagined. I would follow him wherever he went.
This was the Eric of old; the self-assured, easygoing guy I had
crushed over at age sixteen.

For years, he had mentioned how he didn’t
have a good picture of me to show off to friends, coworkers,
whomever. In fact, the last professional photos I had had taken
were my senior pictures. As much as I liked to do hair and makeup,
something about saving my look for posterity didn’t appeal to me. I
ducked out of as many photos as I could. Of course, as witnessed by
the candid shot of me that now took up residence on my desk at
work, I wasn’t always successful.

This time, I had bitten the bullet and made
an appointment with a photographer. Instead of going to the
standard shopping mall photo studio, I had hired a freelancer to
take pictures of me in a more intimate setting. Wearing
considerably less than would be appropriate to have on display at a
department store. Along with those shots, I had also done a couple
poses more suitable for a wallet version. I had been pleased enough
with the results to not hate them, and Eric had practically raved
about them.

For once, he had been rendered speechless by
something I had given him. The look on his face had been priceless,
and was forever stored in my memory. After the shock had worn off,
the praise had followed. Per my request, he vowed to keep the
private photos private. I hadn’t really been concerned; if I had,
the gift never would have come into fruition.

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” he asked
when we were stopped at a red light. His thumb traced the line of
my jaw, tipping my chin upward slightly so he could inspect me
closer. The light turned green, and he pulled away to focus on
driving.

I smiled slightly as the heat rose in my
cheeks.

“You never could take a complement well,” he
smiled. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed,” I said softly, “just not
used to hearing it.”

“Well, you should be. Because you are.”

“Thanks.”

We completed the drive back to the condo in
relative silence, the easy kind that passed between those who knew
each other well and didn’t need to fill every moment with idle
chatter. I admired the view of my hometown all dressed up for the
holiday. In a few short hours, evening would descend upon the city
and the Christmas lights would fire up for one of the final times
of the year. It was odd how it felt like Christmas had come and
gone so quickly, yet it seemed as though I had left this place so
long ago.

Lost in thought, I was surprised when I
realized we were pulling into the parking garage. My car waited
patiently in its assigned stall for me to return. I had wanted to
drive it to my dad’s to show it off, but Eric had been all about
taking the BMW. Knowing how much he liked to be in control, I
offered to let him drive mine. He had still insisted on taking his
car and I had relented. I knew when to pick my battles and this
wasn’t one of those times.

He pulled the car alongside the Sonata and
cut the engine. We both remained in our seats, neither one of us
making a move to get out.

“You can always come back up,” he suggested
with a twinge of hope.

“No, I’d better get going,” I said. “I have
one more stop to make before home.”

He nodded, realizing before he had asked what
the answer would be. Prior to leaving for my dad’s I had drug my
belongings downstairs and placed them in my trunk. Depending on how
one chose to look at the situation, I was either being
super-efficient or preparing for impending doom. With the way our
relationship ebbed and flowed both options were equally
possible.

“Well, then,” he said, leaning over to brush
my lips with a gentle kiss, “be careful going back. And Merry
Christmas.”

“Thanks,” I said, “you too.”

The exchange felt hollow and emotionless. I
paused for a moment, my hand poised on the door handle, waiting for
him to say something of value. Or to pull me into a passionate
kiss. Nothing happened. With a deep breath, I opened the door.

“I love you, Eric,” I said softly as I exited
the car.

“Good night, Lauren,” he said in
response.

I wanted to pretend that he hadn’t heard me;
that if he had, he would have given a like response. At the same
time, I wasn’t about to fool myself. I watched as he climbed out of
the driver’s side, closed the door solidly behind him, secured the
car and stalked away to the elevator without looking back. Once the
elevator doors opened to allow him access and he disappeared inside
I stood alone, frozen, between our cars.

Shaking my head at what we had become, or
worse, what we had always been, I finally climbed in my own car and
headed out.

Every Christmas since I had been able to
drive myself there, I visited my mother’s grave. Just because I had
moved away didn’t mean the tradition was going to end. It wasn’t
something I kept from anyone, but I never spoke of it and always
went by myself. Eric had understood where I was going when I
brought it up a few minutes ago. I suspected my dad knew as well.
Their knowledge didn’t bother me, but I was glad they didn’t bring
it up.

Depending upon how cold it was outside I
either stayed for quite some time or just a few minutes. Some years
I had long discussions with her; others I quickly set down a
poinsettia plant and told her I loved her. It was the thought that
counted and I doubted she would mind either way. This year felt
worthy of an extended visit despite the bitter temperatures.

So I bundled myself up and trudged through
the cemetery to the place I knew like the back of my hand. There
was no one else around, though evidence of other people’s recent
visits was clearly visible. Like always, my dad had been here
already. A single red rose lay nestled up against her headstone,
fresh and beautiful. Her favorite flower, it was my dad’s
traditional offering. Maybe that’s why I didn’t care for the bloom;
to me it symbolized a devastating loss. As I set down my
poinsettia, I wondered if Eric would bring me roses like this if I
died before he did. My gut feeling told me no. I pushed down the
bile that rose in my throat at the thought.

Taking a deep breath, I relayed my entire
dilemma to her, starting from when I’d first been offered my
promotion and ending a few moments ago when Eric had walked away
from me in the parking garage with little more than a passing
thought. I told her everything; hearing the story spoken aloud was
a cathartic experience. I didn’t know if she already knew or even
if she could hear me now. What I did appreciate was the fact that
for once I was able to speak without interruption or criticism.

Only after I was done did I realize how cold
I was. Even sheathed in leather gloves, my fingers felt numb. The
tip of my nose was likely as red as my car by the feel of it. I
jammed my hands into my coat pockets and said my goodbye, promising
to visit her again as soon as I could. Part of me wished that I
could stay there forever, safe in that moment of unconditional love
between a mother and her child.

Instead, I climbed into my car and started
the trek back home, feeling as though I was preparing for battle.
The clarity I had experienced at my mother’s grave made me
anticipate nothing less. If I believed my own hype combined with
Gracie’s take on the situation, Matthew was nursing some serious
attraction to me. Eric would want an answer in a few short days
concerning moving in together and no matter what I did, someone was
bound to get hurt.

I hoped like hell it wouldn’t be me.

My stomach was in a constant state of upset.
Even though Eric hadn’t flat out asked me for an answer yet, as the
calendar turned to January, he began to drop hints like nobody’s
business. I couldn’t open my email without finding some message
from him about mortgage rates, a picture of a random house for sale
or a realtor’s contact information. He began to call me every night
under the guise of missing me. Typically, I would have eaten up the
attention. However, I felt more suffocated than anything else.

While Eric worked on being overbearing,
Matthew retreated. Though I hadn’t shared the news of Eric’s
proposition directly with him, I had told Blake. Considering the
frequency with which they spoke I knew she had passed the
information on. She could deny it all she wanted to, but I knew
that Matthew’s absence in our house was directly related to me. Of
course, I hadn’t exactly made any moves to reach out to him either.
The fear of whatever he had been about to say to me in the garage
on Christmas Eve kept me from sending a quick text or placing an
innocent phone call.

On one hand I was on the verge of getting
everything I had ever wanted. On the other, I felt as though I was
missing a part of my soul.

With a heavy heart, I continued on with
making plans for Matthew’s birthday. My source at work had come
through for me on the Red Wings tickets and I shelled out the money
for them, not knowing if I would be afforded the opportunity to
give them to him. If things went too much farther south, I could
always send them along with Blake for delivery. Or I could resell
them myself. I hoped against hope that I didn’t have to do that; I
knew I had selected an awesome gift.

As far as Eric was concerned, party planning
was in full swing and my life in Fort Wayne couldn’t get any
better. If I had let him in on the real truth, he would have likely
come up here himself and drug me back down to Indy. I wasn’t sure I
wanted that. I didn’t need my boyfriend to come rescue me no matter
how bad the situation got. I could deal with this myself.

So it was more than a little surprising when
Blake asked for my help to plan a meal for Matthew’s birthday,
complete with a homemade chocolate cake. She narrowed her eyes at
me when I overreacted slightly, shaking her head at my
enthusiasm.

“I told you, he’s just really busy at work
right now,” she insisted as we worked side by side in the kitchen
on the night in question.

“Sure,” I muttered, unconvinced.

She looked up at me from the cake that she
had been intently frosting and pouted good-naturedly. “I swear it
has nothing to do with what I told him about Eric.”

“Whatever,” I allowed, “it just seems mighty
convenient.”

“He goes in phases,” she continued in an
attempt to get me off her back, “Sometimes I don’t see him for a
while. Honestly, you haven’t lived here long enough to be an expert
on his comings and goings. You are, however, an expert at cooking
and I greatly appreciate that.”