Tangled Up in Daydreams (13 page)

“I know. Maybe I'll be better soon.” Trying to calm herself down. “I just feel really racy.”

“Okay, let's just hang in here for a while. Turn around and I will rub your back.”

Liam evenly stroked Molly's back trying to reset her internal clock. Just when Molly felt like maybe she was coming to some sort of equilibrium, someone pounded on the door.

“Liam!” Elena called through the door. “Are you in there?”

“Yeah, what do you want?” Still rubbing Molly's back.

“You are wanted out here. This journalist from
Rolling Stone
is here and wants to meet you.”

“I'll be out soon.”

“You have to come now. She's leaving.”

“Elena.” Getting up and opening the door. “I can't come right now.”

Elena looked over to Molly, catching sight of Molly's tear-stained face.

“I knew you were too fucked up.”

“Can you please get out of here?” Molly asked, trying to wipe off her face.

“Look, Molly, Liam needs to come out and meet this woman—now.”

“Fine, I heard you the first time. Go.” Looking up at Liam. “I'm going to stay in here a while. I'll be fine.” Trying her best to be convincing.

“No, I'll stay.”

“Please don't. I'll feel even more shitty if you do.”

“Good.” Elena grabbed Liam's hand and pulled him out the door.

Molly was alone, on the floor of a strange bathroom, wishing she were anywhere else. Time passed, who knows how long—minutes, hours—and the cold tiles beneath her began to feel like a Chinese torture chamber. Maybe she was better? She stood up and felt herself wobble. Apparently, the drugs still persisted in her system despite the purge. She splashed some water on her face and it felt wonderful: cool and calm. Molly redid her lip gloss and grabbed the water bottle off the floor, refilling it from the sink faucet. She unlocked the door and wandered out of the pool house. It had gotten darker, dusk had settled on the grass, and the party was still blaring. More people migrated about, and Molly scanned the yard for Liam. She walked toward the house, shivering in the oncoming night air. Then she saw them, or really Elena, coiled up around Liam on a white leather couch in the living room. Elena was starry eyed and had her hands all over him, stroking his leg. Liam was talking animatedly to the few others sitting across from him while he rubbed Elena's feet. Molly's vision blurred and she felt hot. She felt like the Invisible Man. Not only had Liam forgotten about her but he was also a layer of clothing away from a scene in some Cinemax porno flick. Molly didn't even go inside—she couldn't. Instead, she walked to the car, huddled in the backseat, and cried herself to sleep.

“Molly, Molly,” Liam purred in her ear, gently shaking her. “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

Molly opened her eyes and tried to focus. She sat herself up and looked at the clock. It was almost eleven.

“I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“Sure.” Pulling her hair into a bun. “And it took you four hours to find me.” Climbing out of the car and shaking herself out. Her neck felt like a pretzel, and not the soft, chewy kind. “Can I have the keys? I want to go home.”

“Are you upset?” Still smiling. “The party's still going on. Come inside.”

“Did you take more?”

“I think so, but I'm not sure how many.”

“Great.” Looking down at her feet and kicking a pebble by her toe. “Look, I want to go home. I know Elena or another one of your lackeys will be more than happy to give you a ride. I'll get Jay to follow me tomorrow and I will drop the car off.”

“You're upset.” Putting his arms around her. “What did I do?”

Molly almost burst out laughing, his puppy dog face was so pathetic. He really had no clue. Her sweet, dumb, fucked up boyfriend.

“Nothing, nothing.” Realizing that she would have to let this go. “Go have fun. This is just not where I want to be.”

“Why? Everyone is having a great time. Amazing stories.”

“I just feel burnt and I definitely can't deal with one more interaction with Elena.”

“She's not so bad. She was looking for you.”

“You're joking, right? What, from the permanent spot she claimed by your side? She looked like a pig in shit the minute she had you to herself.”

“When?”

“When she was giving you a full-body massage while you caressed her feet. I thought you didn't want anyone else petting you?”

“I don't, I didn't caress her feet. I didn't touch her.” Thinking as hard as he could to grab a memory he couldn't recall.

“You did, and I'm happy you don't even remember, but I just really want to leave. This has been a big nightmare for me, and my comfy bed and a TV movie is calling my name. Plus, I'm freezing in this outfit.”

“Let's leave then.” Pulling off his Adidas jacket and putting it around Molly.

“No, it's fine, you want to stay, so stay.”

“Nope, what I want, and what I wanted the whole day, is to be with you. All this,” gesturing back to the house, “is really quite insignificant.”

“Really?”

“Really. Here.” Handing her the keys. “But you may have to entertain me with more than a movie.”

“Deal.” Jumping in the car.

Molly and Liam got back into their bubble. During the entire ride back to Molly's, Liam kept trying to get her to scratch his head. Like a two-year-old, the minute she would stop he would whimper, nudge her hand, and lick her until she would start up again. In no time, she was laughing and they were back to them. Everything was always better when they were alone together. If only life could stop interjecting itself.

The sloshing of liquid awoke Molly from her half-dreamy state. Alex stood above her with a bottle of Jack Daniel's, shaking it in front of her face. He smelled oily. A briny mixture of sweat, meat, and salt. Molly sat up, rubbed her eyes, and wrinkled her nose. The clock read 12:13.

“I will never get used to that smell.”

“What?” Sniffing himself. “I don't smell anything.”

“You reek.” Holding her nose. “I hope you shower before you subject your poor wife to your, uh, unique odor.”

“She likes it.” Walking into the kitchen.

“Yeah, right!” Following after him. “I'm asking tomorrow.”

Alex went over to the cabinet and retrieved two shot glass.

“Perfect.” Twirling the small cup in his hand. “Orlando circa the early nineties.”

“Is that the trip where Mom had Teresa fax us the entire Haggadah because Mom insisted we have Passover?” Taking a seat.

“Yeah, she made some weird charoset from airplane crackers.”

“It's not even like we are so religious.”

“It's strange, but now that Renee and I are expecting, I feel like being a better Jew.” Pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.

“What does that mean? Are you doing Shabbat?”

“No, but I do think if we have a boy, I want to have a bris.” Pouring the amber liquid.

“That would be cool.” Taking her glass. “But I don't think I can watch a knife travel near any male's nether regions.”

“Me neither. I instantly think of the name Bobbitt, but I still think it would be a good idea.”

“Just make sure you get someone with a steady hand. Cheers.”

“Cheers.” Clinking her glass.

They shot down the booze and Alex quickly filled another round. That went down like the first and Alex poured another.

“Easy.” Molly eyed Alex. “We've got all night.”

“What?” Drinking the next shot.

“You just have this uncanny ability to get your sister way too fucked up.”

“I have honed that skill all my life. It is a very important one to have.”

“Like New Year's in Aspen?” Tossing back another shot.

“I can't believe you actually fit in that foldout couch.”

“I can't believe I let you fold me into it!”

“It was brilliant!”

Alex got up and poured himself a glass of orange juice to use as a chaser.

“Want one?”

“No, but some water would be good.” Looking at her brother closely. “Got any weed to go with the whiskey?”

“I thought you gave all that shit up.”

“I did, I have. I just …” Molly's eyes welled up a bit. “I just think it would be a good idea.”

“Sorry, Renee and I quit for now, getting ready for the baby.”

“Okay, probably better that way.” Molly poured herself another round.

“So, are we going to talk about what is going on?” Alex asked his sister as he placed the water in front of her.

“He OD'd.”

“What?” Staring at her.

“Apparently, he snuck out of our party, went over to Zander's to supposedly write down some song, and the great influence that he is, Zander happened to have a pharmacy at arm's reach. Liam has been so good lately, so clean, but when it was sitting in front of him he couldn't resist.” Looking at Alex through quickly drunken eyes. “He promised me he would never touch the stuff again after what had happened, and well, he did, did too much, and almost died. Zander called me in a panic from his cell on the way to the hospital. I guess Liam was shaking and sweating. He had a seizure in the emergency room. By the time I showed up, he was stable and I stayed a while watching him. But then the ­whole thing just got to be way too much and I bailed.”

“That's fucking intense, Molly. It's almost surreal. I've never seen anything like that before.” Shaking his head. “But what do you mean ‘after what had happened'?”

“It's another long story I don't feel like telling, but let's just say he made me a lot of promises that I stupidly believed and then he decided to break them all in one fell swoop.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Well, fleeing pretty much was the only thing that came to mind. Fight or flight and I chose flight. It's over.” Feeling the liquor loosen her. “I can't do it.”

Something broke in Molly and a dam of grief rushed forth.

“I'm so fucking tired of crying!” Molly sobbed. “It's like I'm caught in the midst of every bad Lifetime tearjerker.”

“I don't really know what to say to make you feel better.”

“I know.” Taking a deep breath. “Let's just keep drinking.”

Alex leaned over and gave Molly's hand a gentle squeeze. He felt completely helpless. There was nothing for him to do to soothe his sister's tears, to make her feel better even in some small way. When they were little, he prided himself on his grizzly bear power to protect. Anyone other than himself who messed with his sister was toast. There was many a bully who met the end of his fist or wit. When a sister is delicate, artsy, and a late bloomer, the tags children put on her can be cruel. Alex hunted and stalked his prey, eviscerating them within one or two seconds of attack. Molly never really knew why kids started being nice to her, but she certainly didn't care. Anything that hampered their shrill voices taunting Molly with “What note are you singing, Molly, b-flat?” would suffice. Now, in this moment, where all Alex wanted to do was shove his entire hand down Liam's throat, rip out his heart, and serve it up with pan-seared salmon for tomorrow's special, all he could do was pour another round and wait.

H
elen woke up early the next morning and found her two children crashed out in the living room. An empty bottle of whiskey lay on its side on the glass coffee table. Shoes and socks and sweaters were scattered about the room. Alex lay in a heap on the floor, a blanket covering him so that just the tips of his toes and the top of his head were visible. He looked like tomorrow's laundry load. Molly had one leg thrown over the high end of the couch, the other dangling below. Her hair covered most of her face, and the pillows a twisted cyclone of brown and red straw. They smelled overly sweet, a too ripe melon left in the fridge a little longer than necessary. Helen leaned down and pulled Molly's blanket over her, tucking her in. Molly barely stirred, her soft snore kept rhythm. She left Alex alone, not wanting to disturb his hibernation. Thank goodness it was Sunday because she really didn't want him wielding anything sharp today. To think these were supposed to be her grown up children.

Helen leaned back against the wall and lowered herself to the floor. She pulled her knees into her chest and smiled. When the kids were little she would do this for hours in their rooms. The patterns of their breath made Helen feel truly a part of something. All that quiet and stillness only interrupted by a small sniffle or snore was meditative. These unique, ridiculous creatures were hers, hers to protect, to guide, to be guided by. Helen remembered that when she was little, she would carefully tuck all her dolls into their respective beds, kiss them on their foreheads, and wait until she was sure they were asleep before she could tear herself from their side. Being a mother was going to be her big purpose, her life's biggest feat. Like Henry ultimately finding his calling in the kitchen, Helen found hers sitting in Molly's or Alex's room watching them sleep. That's why it was so difficult when they both left home. The very things that made Helen most satisfied were gone, and her world was tossed out of balance. Coupled with Henry's insane work schedule, which didn't allow them much time together, Helen lost her focus. Maybe it wasn't very women's lib to be completed by one's children and husband, but it was in these nurturing shoes that Helen felt the most at ease. Everything made sense in those intimate moments she shared with her family. She felt just a little more centered, just a little more whole, when they were around. It was because Molly had come home. All their puzzle pieces were in the same place for the first time in a long time. Helen had missed her daughter.