Page 149 of Six Years
I reach my hand to my nightstand drawer, trying to find whatever liquor bottle I know I put there last night for exactly this moment in the morning. It’s what I’ve always done before I went to rehab. I always had an extra bottle on my nightstand for the next morning. Can’t be hungover if you don’t stop drinking.
But to my horror, there’s nothing.
My eyes jump open and my head snaps toward my nightstand to make sure my hand is feeling the right things. It’s empty. Completely empty. Not even my lamp is still standing there.
What the fuck?
Ah, right… never mind. My lamp is in a moving box. No, it is not. I only packed my clothes and important documents as well as other important things. But no lamps.
“The fuck?” I mutter when I look around my room only to find it completely… clean. Did I drunkenly tidy up? No, I’d never do that. Drunk-me is lazy, except when he thinks he can conquer the world and then falls off a chair or something. But the point is, drunk-me doesn’t clean.
My room door opens, but I don’t bother looking because it’s just Doro or Sarah checking whether I’m still alive or if I finally died of alcohol poisoning. Only that the voice speaking isn’t either one of theirs.
“Do you want coffee?”
It sounds like… My head snaps into the other direction, my mouth opens with shock when I find Grey standing in the doorway, dressed in nothing but boxers and the cast on his entire arm.Myboxers, mind you.
Did I die?
“Am I dead?” I voice out loud, then look down at myself. I, too, don’t wear anything but my boxers. Interesting.
Shit, didn’t he just recently wake up from his coma? I think Doro told me.
Fuck, he looks so good, even with that stupid cast on. And he is so handsome, so…, I need a drink because I cannot fucking do this.
“No, but you did throw up what felt like your entire soul.”
Funny, because it feels like it, too.
Hold on. Hold the fuck on.
Grey is here. As in, he isherein my house. And I am hungover. And he witnessed me throw-up. Fuckfuckfuck.
“Oh, God.” I lean over, pressing the tips of my fingers to my temples. I am so fucked.
I hear Grey close the door, then walk toward me. But even when my mattress dips beside me and he lays a hand on my thigh, I continue to stare at my blanket.
“Luan…”
“Did you sleep in the bed with me?” I ask.
“It’s not like we haven’t done that before.” He lays a bottle of apple juice down in front of me, then takes my hand and drops an Advil into my palm. “Take it.”
“Grey, we’re broken up. You can’t—You shouldn’t be here.” Does his dad know he’s here?
“You’re supposed to give a two weeks’ notice before quitting.”
What is that even supposed to mean? “You do realize our relationship isn’t a job, right?”
“Yeah, but you can’t quit a job without telling your employer, and you can’t end a relationship without telling your partner either. I was in a coma when you apparently broke up with me, Luan. I couldn’t talk back, let alone hear you tell me we’re breaking up. Yesterday evening was the first time I even heard about said breakup.”
He might have a point there, but I couldn’t wait and say it to his face, it would’ve broken me more than it already has anyway.
“Do you want to know what I did when I woke up?” Not really because, chances are, I will cry. “I asked for you the second I opened my eyes, Luan. I made excuses as to why you didn’t stay around the hospital because I figured it must’ve been too hard on you given your past, and that was okay with me. I didn’t take that badly, I wasn’t mad or anything. I only got worried when nobody could reach you, and when your parents told me they haven’t seen or heard from you in days.”
He called my parents?
“So, if you actually wanted to break up with me that badly, you could’ve at least had the decency to do itafterI woke up, or you should’ve done it before we already brought most of your shit into our apartment.”
