10
Emily
Iwake up dazed and confused. My mouth feels gummy. I turn over and look around my room. It's early morning. The blanket falls past my chest, and I realize I’m naked.
Did David and I have sex? He's snoring on the recliner. Nope, definitely didn't.
I look in the bathroom mirror. My skin is blotchy and dry, and my auburn hair is matted and greasy. Makeup stains my cheeks and around my eyes. My stomach twists, bringing up everything left over from the night before.
I must have gotten piss drunk, and David had to sober me up in the shower and put me to bed like some sort of child. I’m mortified. I had one chance to show him I could run with him and his people, and I mucked it all up.
David is awake when I walk back in. He stands and hugs me, kissing me on the mouth.
“Em, are you okay?”
He holds me away from him and eyes me up and down, as if he were assessing damage done to his car after an accident. I shiver, feeling embarrassed and ill.
“Yes, yes. I'm fine. Can we just not mention it ever again, please?”
I shake out of his grasp. I don't want to know how I acted or how I embarrassed him in front of his friends. I just want to forget it. Thankfully, he respects that.
* * *
David
I don't pushthe subject further. I don't know what she remembers… or doesn't remember. I don't know what to say, so I say nothing. I do know that I can't go back to one of Garrett's house parties, or I’ll end up with blood on my hands.
The guilt I feel for not being there to protect Emily will forever cause a stabbing pain in my heart and a stalking memory in my brain, unable to be dulled, even by drugs. I can’t let anyone hurt her again. Not ever again.
I'm sweating. Sober for too long. I reach into the dresser and search for Emily's tin. I shake it softly before I twist open the cap and pour a thick, sloppy amount into a line onto the mirror. I lean over and inhale without using a straw. By the time my pupils pinpoint, I’m already feeling better. I motion to Emily, but she declines.
“No thank you. I just want to sleep.”
I lie back on Emily’s bed. She lies down beside me, and I wrap my arms around her. What a god-awful weekend. Fuck Garrett. David Norstar has been officially scratched off his guest list for good. I guess I could always spend more time at Marc's house.
I pick up my phone and send Elisa a text.
Me: Still not talking to me?
I watch the status change to “read.” No response. No surprise. Elisa has long since buried me. God, do I miss her.
I rub Emily’s arm and try to embrace my high. The drugs help to blanket how I'm feeling, but can’t squelch my emotions completely. I am still suffering from dulled anxiety, anger, and sadness. What happened to Emily will be a raw, painful memory forever. This blame will eat away at me until I am hollow.