Page 76 of All That Remains
"I didn'tforceyou to do anything, Rafe. You folded the second I showed up because you wanted to. As usual, you're giving me shit immediately after you get off. So fucking typical. You blame me for everything because it's easier than blamingyourself. You don't want to admit how lonely and miserable you always are—that's why you're so fuckingeasy."
I wanted to drag her from the bed by the ankle and make her hit the floor. Somehow, I refrained.
“Fuck you.”
"You know, Rafe, sometimes I think you care more about being a good friend to Ezra than you’ve ever cared about being a decent boyfriend to me!"
"I was never your boyfriend…" She was momentarily aghast, though recovered quickly. It was the coldest thing I’d ever said. I doubled down to make her pay for the'easy'comment from earlier. "I never was, and never will be. I told you I was uncomfortable with this whole thing from the start—"
"Fuck you!" she sobbed, jumping up, gathering her clothes, and running stark naked into the bathroom.
“Vi, c’mon…” My hands fell limply at my sides.
I got dressed and waited a few minutes until she emerged, also fully dressed. I felt shitty and needed to apologize, but whenI attempted to speak, she flipped me off and stormed from the room.
I followed her downstairs pleading and trying to make it right, but she wouldn't listen. She demanded the car keys from Ezra so she could wait outside, and he obliged. As we watched her go, slamming the front door in her wake, Ezra gave me a look that said:‘You dickhead.’
***
After they left, neither lending an ear to my countless apologies, I grew irrational and left as well—grabbing what remained of Grimmy's vodka on my way out the door. The Audi growled down the incline of my driveway and along the sleepy streets of my neighborhood until I was out of Dodge. I sped unseeingly for several blocks, then jumped onto the highway with a few other night owls.
I flicked on the radio and “I Can't Tell You Why” by the Eagles played. Entrancing me. I slipped into a hypnotic void and forgot myself for a while. Within the next thirty minutes, I was back in BHPO, back on that private leafy avenue, rolling to a halt outside of a familiar address.
It was the only place I felt safe at the moment. I had zero intentions of returning home and didn't want to book a hotel for what remained of the night. It was nearly over, thank fuck. I shut the engine off to kill the headlights, popped the vodka open, and necked its contents until my throat blistered and my eyes stung. Then I let out an anguished hiss, checking my phone.
Grimmy had texted: "You owe me another bottle, bitch." To which I toasted the air and took another pull. It burned twice as bad, but I kept drinking until it felt numb. U2’s “Sweetest Thing”scoring the moment with tender, nostalgic lies.
Now my eyes were bloodshot, but I kept reading in search of something good. Grimmy sent another text immediately aftertelling me I should give Violet a chance, since she was way more attractive than the girl I'd slept with in October of last year at his party. He said he was beginning to think I was vision impaired until he saw Violet tonight. I sent a middle-finger emoji before keying up an old playlist and shutting my screen off.
A neighbor's bedroom light shut off just as Chris Stapleton's "Tennessee Whiskey" filled the air. My alienation fostered paranoia and thoughts of death. It often did. The notion of the world—and especially Rome—being tucked away in bed while I ran the streets like a dissolute fiend made me feel dispossessed. I drank until the bottle was empty and eventually fell asleep to Ryan Adams' "My Winding Wheel."
25
The Zombies' "The Way I Feel Inside" whispered about the car as I woke from the best sleep I'd had in weeks. I shut my eyes and lay back in the seat, which I had reclined as far as it would go, surrendering to my lazybones and absorbing the tranquil lyrics.
They spoke for me. Making an appeal on my behalf, voicing things I was unable to articulate even in the quiet of my own thoughts. When the track finished, I looped it back several times before relenting and allowing it to progress to Corrine Bailey Rae.
It was before sunrise, and the sky was a faint gradient color that reminded me of an apricot; the kind my mother always fetched from the market and told me not to touch until they'd ripened. I could almost sense their waxy textures against my tongue, and the tangy aftertaste that sometimes stung my jaws long after I'd eaten them.
Today was absurd. I hadn't calculated my next move, and now cursed myself for being emotional and brash, a deadly combination. Everything could shift in one false move if I weren't careful. I had to weigh my options—although no amount of rationalizing seemed to help me step beyond the notion that I needed to see him right away.
Now all there was left to do was wait until a more appropriate time of morning, so as not to incite his ire. I shifted my weight to get more comfortable, rolling down the window for a wisp ofair not stifled by my honeysuckle car freshener. Right away the stench of a freshly mown lawn replaced it, and it wasn't long before I spotted the contraption rumbling across a neighboring yard.
My thoughts were shortly dissolved by a coughing fit that made my ribs ache, and in the end I was grateful to see I wasn't terribly hungover. That was the bad news though. I was becoming a heavyweight drinker—less and less affected by thesebinges, which were increasing in frequency. The thought alone alarmed me, so I shoved the empty bottle away, sending it flying onto the floor of the passenger seat.
I switched playlists in search of a better diversion. A hush filtered throughout the car as I sifted through titles like a crate of old vinyl. Deniece Williams' "Silly" spoke to my soul, and it was here that I considered calling my mum.
In her neck of the woods, it was late afternoon, and I knew she was the only person in my circle unaware of what had taken place last night. Seeing that John had called repeatedly and left a few livid texts, I was positive he'd also called all my LA contacts in search of me. He’d be worried I was drunk driving, but even at my worst, I refused to do anything that stupid. He should've thought better of me. Or perhaps I’d never given him reason to?
I rang my mum. She answered straightaway, gleefully calling me herbaby. I smiled like a loon, always moved by her receptiveness and undying affinity for me. Nothing I could do or say would ever take her affection from me, and sometimes that was all I needed to get by.
I hadn't realized how friendless I felt until I heard her voice. I teared up listening to her talk about her day. She was totally unaware of my desperation, and would be ashamed if she knew I’d camped out in a car drinking all night. Particularly if she knew whose house I was stalking.
"Rafe? Love? Still there?"
"Yeah, mum…m’here," I sighed.
"You sound a tad down, love. Everything ok?"
