A Life More Complete(66)
Tyler yells from the bed, “Shit, could you close the door? My hangover is unreal and the sound of you vomiting is making it worse.”
“Thanks, Ty. Your kindness and sympathy knows no bounds,” I mutter as I crawl over to the door and push the bottom corner until the door slams closed. Pressing my cheek to the cool tile floor, I close my eyes and try not to focus on the fact that I am lying on the floor of a hotel bathroom that after watching too many Datelines, I know full well is swimming with infestation and germs. Just that thought in my brain for a second makes my stomach lurch and I hug the toilet once again. I pull a towel from the rack and rest my head on it telling myself to breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth. I repeat this in my head over and over as my eyes grow heavy.
Shuffling out of the bathroom a few hours later I join a snoring and completely dead to the world Tyler in bed. I grab my phone off the nightstand and text my sisters. The light from the screen fills my head with blinding pain that makes my eyes water and forces my gag reflex to the forefront once again. Please make it stop. I swear I will never drink again. Okay, I am lying, but I’ll at least hold off for a few weeks. I don’t know whom I’m begging, but whoever it is, I didn’t care; I just need it to stop. I text my sisters to let them know I’m not going to make it to breakfast due to my epic hangover. That’s putting in mildly. The last time I remember being this drunk had to be at least before 1999, but in my state I’m unable to actually recall anything being worse than this. When I don’t hear from either of them after a few minutes my head hits the pillow and I’m out.
Several hours later I wake with a headache and the taste of vomit still lingering in my mouth. Tyler stirs next to me and judging by the look on his face he is feeling strikingly similar to me.
“I’m so glad we are staying an extra night,” I say. “I don’t think I could even think about getting in the car right now.”
“Seriously. I’m glad we took your car. You and all that barf would completely ruin the interior in my car. Plus you really smell disgusting.”
His response sends a shock of annoyance through my aching body. I roll the other direction, facing away from him, right now I can’t look at him and I know if I do my response will be less than savory.
“Thanks. I wouldn’t barf in your car,” I mumble.
“Oh, stop acting insulted. I was joking and anyway, we’re staying, so no one has to worry about barfing in the car.”
I take Tyler’s words to heart and climb out of bed and into the shower. Taking my toothbrush with me I begin to scrub the inside of my mouth as if it were a public toilet and as of right now I am pretty sure it harbors as much filth and germs as one.
My mind flutters to Tyler. It’s hard not to think about him. I feel myself becoming obsessed with him and wanting to please him, something I’ve never had any desire to do, but here I am thinking about how I can make him love me more. I got in the shower because he said I smelled. Normally I would have shrugged my shoulders and more than likely told the offender to leave if I wasn’t up to their standard of cleanliness, yet with Tyler I aim to please. I don’t like the feeling of forced compliance, however I’m standing in the shower giving myself a prison style scrub down. This should all be a sign that embarking on a life long commitment might not be the right choice, but I can’t help but think that maybe it’s my only choice. I really need to stop over analyzing everything.
I leave Tyler sleeping in bed to meet my sisters for lunch at a nearby restaurant. I can feel myself slipping away. My independence fading as I blend into the person that was created by Tyler so long ago. It’s hard to figure out why I lose myself in his presence or why I so easily slip into the role of following along.
Tyler told me he wants it to be different. He wants it to work and so do I, more than I want to admit. I still can’t figure out what makes him feel he has some sort of power over my behavior, my life or my personality for that matter.
I shake my head as I pull into the parking lot. My OCD is at an extreme since getting back together with Tyler. My tapping and my obsessive dwelling are spiraling out of control. This was something that had nearly disappeared and the coincidence of it returning with Tyler’s arrival isn’t entirely lost on me.
Rachel is waiting at a table looking at her phone when I walk up. She stands and hugs me. I kiss her cheek and feel a calm come over me. We’re normal; hopefully it remains this way.
“Tyler, huh?” she says without making eye contact.