If Ever(98)

"We had fun!" She's a hot mess with smeared eye makeup and reeks of booze.

"Yes, I saw that," I say.

"No, I mean really had fun! Wanna get frisky?" she whispers in my face with a blast of ashtray breath.

I gently push her away. "Have you been smoking?"

"I had a cigar!" She boasts, stumbling away. "It's so warm in here."

She fans herself and then stretches behind her back to reach her zipper. She turns in a circle like a cat trying to catch its tail. She sways and bumps into the wall but then is able to get the zipper part way down.

"How about you just climb into bed and go to sleep." I reach to help her.

She slaps my hand away. "I don't want to go to sleep. I want to have sex!" She locks eyes with me in an intoxicated lure and slips out of her dress, her arm catches on the strap and then the dress stops at her hips as she didn't lower the zipper enough.

It would be laughable if I weren't so exhausted and losing my patience. I roll my eyes.

"Don't you like my strip tease?" she pouts.

"Chelsea, you're drunk. I have a matinee tomorrow and need to sleep."

But she ignores me.

"You can sleep when you're dead." She stands barefoot in her black lace pushup bra and bunched up dress, staring at me. "I bet lots of guys at the bar would sleep with me."

I get that she was ticked off about Tanya, and I don't think she'd ever cheat on me, but this is a side to her I don't like. I sit up on the side of the bed and rub my face. "I really don't want to talk about this tonight. Trust me. We'll have loads to talk about tomorrow. Now please just come to bed before you fall and knock yourself out."

"You don't want to have sex because you got it all out of your system with Tanya!" She stomps to her side of the bed and falls onto it with her dress still hanging around her waist.

Clenching my jaw, I don't respond. There's no getting through to her right now. I lie back down and hope she'll pass out soon so I can get some rest.

Finally she stops talking and lays quietly. Thank God. But just when I think she might be asleep, she says, "Tom?"

I tense up and try to make my voice sound patient. "Yeah?"

"I don't feel so good."

Suddenly she claws her way off the bed and lunges toward the door, banging into the dresser on her way. One step into the bathroom and she retches.

Groaning, I climb out of bed, pull on some pajama pants, and check out the damage. My nose wrinkles in disgust at the pink vomit across the white tile and Chelsea gripping the porcelain bowl, her hair draped around it like a curtain.

I throw a towel over the mess, go to her, and lift her hair out of the way as another wave of her wild night hurls its way into the toilet.

She spits and spews, refusing to release her death grip. After a couple more rounds, as she's catching her breath and leaning back against the tub, I wring out a cool washcloth and wipe her face and mouth, but then she retches again.

"I was afraid this would happen," Anna says from the doorway. She flicks on the bathroom fan.

"Dare I ask what she drank?"

Anna rinses out a fresh washcloth, and hands it to me. "Flavored martinis and a couple of shots. She never drinks this much. I'm sorry."

"It's hardly your fault." But somehow I fear it's mine.

"She told me about the run in with her dad," Anna says. "I think this is her way of letting out her frustrations."

But I don't think this has anything to do with her dad

"There's not much Chelsea can't handle, but his abandonment really messed with her."

I glance at my usually beautiful girlfriend huddled between the toilet and tub, pale-faced and shivering. I want to hold her, but she smells vile, can barely hold her head up, and likely isn't finished puking.

Anna kneels next to her. "How about we get you to bed?"

Chelsea groans and presses her face against the cold tile. "I'll stay here."

Anna and I share a smile.

"Then let's get you out of your dress. You look like a strung out hooker," Anna says with a laugh.

Chelsea shakes her head, but lets me wrangle the zipper lower and as she sits up, retches again. When she's finished she sinks bonelessly to the cool floor. "Moving makes it worse. Just leave me."

I've had nights like this, but not for a long time. "I'll get her a blanket." When I return, Anna is on the floor talking softly to Chelsea, teasing her and moving her hair out of her face.

"We'll laugh about this someday. Just like the night we all auditioned for Celebrity Dance Off."

But Chelsea doesn't agree. "Please go away and let me die in peace."





*





I didn't die. Instead I wake up to a sledgehammer pounding on my brain and what feels like moss growing in my dry mouth. My head is resting on a toilet paper roll and a blanket covers me.

"Morning, Sunshine!" Anna says brightly.

"Promise me you're never having another bachelorette party."

"Nope. Just this one." She pours a glass of water and hands me two ibuprofen, and then I remember Tom and some of the horrible things I said. I cringe, which hurts my head.