Page 5 of Unravel Me

Woof!

My eyes dart up, catching the shadow of my eighty-pound dog lazily getting her butt off the porch, crossing the yard and waltzing up to me.

“Again, girl? When you gonna learn to not nudge the door so hard?” I ruffle her long hound dog ears, and she follows me happily to the backdoor. I make a mental note to fix the latch on this door as I pull it open, flipping on the light over my kitchen island.

A stack of mail and a pan of what’s probably zucchini bread sits on the butcher block counter. Tell-tale signs my mom was here again; she can’t go a day without making something from her garden and dropping it off. Retirement has her going stir-crazy.

Tossing my lunch cooler and canteen in the sink—it’s tomorrow's problem—I rifle through my mail. Nothing important, as usual.

“Think we got time to catch the end of the game?” I ask and Mabel perks up her ears. She doesn’t follow me into the bedroom, where I strip out of the dirty work clothes I’ve been wearing for twelve hours now. I kick off my worn-out boots, and they land near my bed, my gaze holding onto them for a beat longer.

Who the hell wears pink slippers on a rooftop deck? That’s just ignorant and unsafe.

Cranking the shower spout, I also push open the window above the tub. The exhaust fan and my AC simultaneously stopped working last week, which is a death sentence in the Carolina summer, but they will have to wait for a fix until another day. And another paycheck.

Clean, but tired as hell, I grab a tin of assorted nuts from my pantry, and kick back on my sofa. The newest thing in my house. My sister convinced me it was time to say goodbye to the bachelor pad furniture and nearly forced me to buy this tan, slipcovered sofa. The cover is machine washable, she touted in the showroom, reminding me it was essential with my stinky dog who finds herself sleeping on this sofa every afternoon.

Like she can read my mind, she hops up next to me, circling three times before plopping down, eyeing the snack in my hand.

I toss her a peanut, turn on the TV, catching the end of the Braves game.

It doesn’t take long before she’s snoring next to me, and my eyes grow heavy. Right before the blue walls of my living room turn to black, my thoughts flash back to the girl in the white dress.

Chapter four

Audrey

"One moment, I'm coming!" I yell out, my voice echoing through the apartment. The pounding on the door ceases, but the pounding inside my head does not.

Cradling the back of my neck with my palm, I squint against the bright sunshine pouring through the living room bay window. I attempt to roll my neck out, but it's still stiff as hell, along with the rest of my body. That's what happens when you fall asleep intoxicated, face down on top of the bed. I’m too old for this.

As soon as I swing the front door open, Penny's jaw drops. Casting my eyes to the black and white checkered stone floor, I extend my arm out, inviting her inside.

"I know. Don't say anything," I warn as I head into the equally bright kitchen. Penny's hot on my trail, looking exceedingly fresher than me.

"I got here as soon as I could. I’ve been worried sick. How are you holding up, honey?"

Penny came straight from the airport to my place, even though I told her not to. I knew she wouldn't listen to me though, and I'm kind of grateful she didn't.

"How was San Diego?” I ignore her question, opening the glass front cabinets and grabbing two matching coffee mugs. “The wedding looked beautiful. Was that Balboa Park?" Penny is a wedding photographer, and her work takes her everywhere.

"Oh, the drama was endless. The mother-in-law was truly unhinged, and I promise to fill you in later but do not ignore my question.”

I bite my lip, casting my eyes away from Penny.

“After your cryptic text last night, I moved my flight from 10 a.m. to 6 a.m. for you, so we are going to talk about what the hell went down." She plants herself on a barstool at the long kitchen island, props her chin on her elbows, and stares at me with the intensity of a stalking jungle cat.

Without answering, I shrug, grab my water bottle from the counter, and chug it all.

"Holy shit, how hungover are you?"

"I don't know…however hungover you get after drinking an entire bottle of Dom Perignon." I winced, moving to place the mugs under the hot espresso spout. I swear I still smell champagne, like it’s oozing from my pores.

"Okay…then let's start at the beginning." Penny’s face is tight, her words slow and deliberate.

After I finish making our cappuccinos, which feels like it takes an ungodly amount of time, Penny follows me into the living room, and we sink deep into my linen sofa. I get in one sip of the delicious frothy espresso before reality hits me like a ton of bricks and tears sting the back of my eyes. I hate crying in front of people. I already met my quota for the year by crying in front of a stranger last night. But I remind myself Penny has seen me at my worst. She was my roommate all four years at the University of North Carolina, after all.

I pull my legs up under myself and clear my throat. “Okay, I’m only going to relive this once and only once. Because I will have to rehash every demoralizing detail for my mother sooner rather than later.”