Big O Box Set

She continues to get handsy. She’s like a goddamned octopus with those things, her fingers like tentacles latching onto me. I have to be more forceful with her, and I squeeze her wrists tighter to stop her advances. She lets out an annoyed grunt when she doesn’t get her way. Drunk people are like children. They’re impossible to reason with. I let out an exasperated sigh.

“Let’s just do it. I’m not inebr…” She stumbles on the word and tries again. “Iberi …” Eventually she just gives up and makes a series of mumbled sounds to replace the word.

This time I do laugh, but I keep it under my breath so I don’t hurt her feelings. Whatever made her decide to get this drunk must’ve bad.

Her dog comes up to me, leaning against my side in a dog’s version of a hug.

“Come on, let’s get you to bed,” I say.

Her face lights up. “Now you’re talking!”

I roll my eyes and shake my head, hiding my smile.

The dog follows me as I lead the woman down the hallway toward the bedroom. There are two rooms; one is a cluttered office. The other isn’t as frilly as I would’ve expected for a woman’s bedroom. It has gray walls, and a black and white striped comforter on a king-sized bed. A shock of color here and there keeps the room from looking plain. Makes me think a man might’ve lived with her at one point, but there are no signs of one being here recently. The closet door is open. One half is full of dresses and shoes. The other half is empty and hangers are slung across the floor like the aftermath of a hurricane in department store. Whoever left this place, left in a hurry.

I lay the woman down on the bed and take off the sexy black heels she wears and tuck her in under the covers. She pats the empty space beside her.

I smile at the offer. “What’s your name?” I ask her.

“Cadie,” she mumbles.

“That’s a pretty name. I’m going to get you some coffee.”

“I don’t want coffee,” she says through a yawn. “I want you.”

God, she’s making this difficult. “I’ll be right back.”

The dog trots behind me as I walk into the kitchen. Going through the cupboards, all I find is an expensive dark roast. I can’t even find a coffee maker, only a French Press, and I have no idea how to use it. I’m a simple Folgers kind of guy.

Water it is. I grab a bottle from the fridge and take it to her. When I get back to the room, she’s passed out. Her hair is splayed in a web across her face, lips slightly parted. I can tell by the way she snores like a truck driver that she won’t be waking up any time soon.

I move her hair off her face and tuck it behind her ears. Even through the mess of makeup, it’s easy to tell that she’s beautiful. Hard to believe such a beautiful creature can make such a horrendous noise. I juggle with the idea of recording her and sending the video to her once she sobers up, but that’s cruel, and I suspect I’ll be the only one laughing.

I put the bottle of water next to her on the nightstand.

She seems so vulnerable passed out with a stranger in her room. I shudder to think what could have happened if she’d called anyone other than me. I’m not comfortable leaving her alone in this state. Especially after seeing the broken candlestick on the ground. Safety doesn’t seem to be much of a priority while she’s hammered. Maybe there’s a friend of hers I can call. I contemplate going through her phone, but even if there’s a list of people I can call, I don’t know which ones I can trust. What if I called a co-worker or some sleazy guy she picked up in a bar? Or her boss, and managed to get her fired somehow?

My phone keeps chirping in my pocket. I pick it up and read the messages. There are several texts from different women wanting me to come over. I could be sweaty and rolling around in the sheets with some hot, naked bombshell right now, but no, I’m here babysitting a complete stranger.

I sigh and look at the woman in the bed, knowing I’m not going anywhere tonight, and I’m certainly not getting laid. Clearly this chick is going through something. I can’t help but wonder why she decided to get so wasted.

I look down at the dog. His collar says ‘Hercules.’ I flip the tag over, and on the other side it says, ‘My mommy loves me, please bring me home,’ followed by her address and phone number. Hercules’s big copper eyes stare back at me. He wags his tail so hard his entire backside moves. “Looks like you’re my date for the night, buddy,” I say.

I order a pizza and camp on the couch. Hercules climbs onto the couch with me and I give him my crusts. He chews with vigor and leaves a trail of slimy drool on my pants when he’s done. The dog and I are practically the same size. He lays his head on my lap and we watch Shark Week on the Discovery channel until we fall asleep.

2

Cadie

I wake up just before nine in the morning. It feels like a heavy metal band is playing drums in my head. Did Hercules shit in my mouth while I slept? It tastes like it. I grimace and smack my dry lips. Gross. I haven’t been this hung over since college. Everything hurts. Why the hell did I drink so much?

It’s not like me to get wasted alone on a weeknight. In fact, that’s never happened before. The whole night is a blur, so I try to retrace my steps, struggling to put the pieces together. I remember going to the dance studio yesterday morning and getting a text from Gina …

It all starts to come back to me. While rehearsing in the studio, I got a text from Gina saying she saw Evan in town. It’s been a month since he moved out. I try not to think about him.

We were good together. I may have even loved him. I don’t know. It wasn’t like an epic love story where you would do absolutely anything for that person. We didn’t exactly have a Romeo and Juliet connection. I’m fairly certain neither of us would have taken a bullet for the other, but there was respect, and for me, that was plenty. Everything we did, we did it together. And I was content. My friends told me that wasn’t enough. They thought for love to work, there had to be passion and longing, but I don’t know. I’ve never had either of those things with a man, so I couldn’t say whether they’re important in a relationship. I was perfectly fine being content.

But being content wasn’t enough for Evan in the end. One day, I came home, and all of his stuff was gone. He just disappeared. I texted and called, worried about him. Eventually he texted back and said he wasn’t happy and needed to move on. I understood.

I was crushed, of course. Who isn’t after a breakup? Part of me thought he would eventually come back, and that all we needed was some space. I asked him about it. He agreed that was probably what our relationship needed. He had my hopes up. I stopped crying and got myself back in the studio. I was determined to work on myself so I could be better for him. When he came back I would be a different person. I would be loving and passionate, all the things he needed me to be.

But then I got that text from Gina yesterday. It wasn’t just that she’d seen him in town. She saw him there with another woman. They were kissing and holding hands and looked cozier than two people who were just on a date. I asked her who the woman was, if she was someone we knew, but she wasn’t able to get a good look at her, afraid Evan would catch her spying.

When I texted Evan later that evening, he admitted that he’d been seeing her for a year before he moved out. For an entire year of our two-year relationship he was seeing someone else and I didn’t even know it. How could I have been so blind? The betrayal was more than I could handle, so I opened that bottle of wine we’d been saving for a special occasion and I drank it. The whole thing.

Everything that came after that is pixilated. God, I hope I didn’t drunk-text him. I look around for my phone, but don’t see it. It’s probably in the living room. Hopefully it’s in my purse and hasn’t been touched.

I sit up. The sheets fall off of me. Why the hell am I wearing this bra and panty set as well as my sheer robe? This isn’t my normal sleeping attire. This is something I’d wear when trying to be sexy, and I’m pretty sure after what happened with Evan, I was not feeling sexy last nig

ht.

And where’s Hercules? He always sleeps at the foot of my bed. There’s a permanent indention in the mattress where he curls up at night. My door is shut. I must’ve left him in the living room. He’s not whining at the door, so he’s probably still asleep. Getting up, I look at myself in the mirror and cringe. My hair is a rumpled mess and I have makeup smeared all over my face. Before taking the dog for his morning walk, I decide to brush my teeth and jump in the shower really quickly. The warm water cascading over my shoulders feels wonderful, and my headache starts to ease. I feel much better after, and I almost look human again. Grabbing a couple ibuprofens from the medicine cabinet, I pop them in my mouth and try to swallow them dry, but they get stuck in the back of my throat. I go back into my room and find a bottle of water next to my bed and take a gulp. But I don’t remember putting water next to my bed. I’m a sound sleeper and never need to get up in the middle of the night for water. What the hell did I do last night?

A pair of yoga pants, a t-shirt, and some running shoes are the outfit of the day. Nothing special. There’s no one to impress while I take my dog out to shit. My hair goes into a ponytail and I’m ready to face the day. I vow not to let Evan’s betrayal ruin everything. I don’t love him, I decide. I probably never did. I’m certain of that now. If I loved him, I would be devastated right now. I’m not. Not at all. What I am, is pissed. I’m so fucking mad I could rip out his throat with my teeth. How dare he? I was faithful to him every step of the way. Believe me, I had plenty of chances not to be. Every time I went out to a club with my girlfriends, there was no shortage of men at my heels, trying to get me to go home with them. Every single one was better looking than Evan. But I respected Evan far too much to ever betray him like that.

I have to take a deep calming breath to keep my rage from bubbling back up. A drink sounds good right about now. Hair of the dog. I’m not going to do that, though. It will only make me feel worse. Fuck that guy. I’m not going to let him ruin my day further than he already has. I refuse to let him turn me into someone who’s bitter and suspicious. Today I’m going to take care of me, and get back to being myself. The confident, happy girl I was before I met Evan.