The Edge of Always(22)
Silence bathes the room.
“Are you serious?”
His stunned voice makes it impossible not to laugh. I whirl around and kiss his lips.
“Hell no, I’m not serious. Maybe I was the one who turned the alarm off last night. Maybe I planned this all along.”
His smile widens and he kisses me back and then walks around to the side of the bed to find his boxers.
“Did you?” he asks, stepping into them.
“No, I didn’t. But it’s a good idea. I’ll remember it for next time. Want to shower with me?”
At that second, there’s a knock at my bedroom door. Knowing it’s probably my mom, Andrew’s posture stiffens a little and he sits down on the bed to cover his lower half with the blanket.
I open the door to see my mom in all her bleached-blonde glory standing there. She’s wearing a light pink button-up top and soft pink blush in her cheeks to match it.
“Are you up?” she asks.
No, Mom, I’m sleepwalking. She’s funny sometimes.
I notice her glance at Andrew once. She has already expressed her worry about me getting pregnant again, but surely she can’t expect us not to have sex. It’s what she wants, but yeah, not gonna happen.
She smiles weakly at me and asks, “Do you want to go with me to Brenda’s today?”
Definitely not. Love my aunt Brenda, but not so much being choked to death by her cigarette-smoke-filled house.
“No, I’ve got plans with Natalie.”
Really, I don’t have any plans at all, but whatever.
“Oh, all right. Well…” She glances at Andrew again and then back at me. “Thought he was going to Texas this morning?”
I tighten the rope around my robe and cross my arms.
“Yeah, well we overslept, but he’s going to take a later flight out.”
My mom nods and looks across the room at him one more time. She smiles slimly and he does the same. Awkward. She really likes Andrew, but she’s definitely not used to a guy sleeping with me in my room, even if he’s been here with me for two weeks. If I wasn’t almost twenty-one and engaged to him, he definitely wouldn’t be in here at all. At the same time, she knows we love each other and after what happened with the baby, she wants him here for me. But it’s still awkward. For all of us. Yeah, Andrew and I are seriously gonna have to get a place of our own.
A place of our own… here in Raleigh. My chest feels like there’s something heavy sitting on top of it all of a sudden.
My mom finally leaves us, and I gaze over at Andrew, who looks all uncomfortable with the sheet draped over his lap and a sort of nervous frown.
“Shower with me?” I ask again, but I can tell he’s not up for it anymore.
He flinches. “I think I’ll get one after you.”
I chuckle at his boyish awkwardness and then soften my face. “I’ll look for a place this weekend. I promise.”
He stands up. “If you want me to look with you, just tell me. I only suggested Natalie in case you wanted something to do while I’m gone. Y’know, get that girl opinion on drapes and color palettes ’n’ shit.”
I laugh out loud.
“I won’t be picking out any drapes,” I say. “Curtains maybe, but drapes are for interior designers and rich cougars.”
He shakes his head at me as I leave the room and head to the bathroom down the hall.
I feel like Jekyll and Hyde. All the time. When in front of Andrew I put on my happy face, but not as if I’m faking it. I am happy. I think. But the second I’m alone again, it’s like I become someone else. I feel like someone invisible is always standing behind me, flipping a f*cking switch inside my brain. Off. On. Off. On. O—no, On.
I sit in the bottom of the tub with my knees drawn up against my chest, and I let the hot water stream down on me forever. I think about the inevitable apartment I’m bound to find, the good time I had at the Underground last night, the load of laundry I need to start, and how that logo is starting to fade from the top of the soap bar. When the water begins to cool, the change in temperature wakes me up enough from my strange daydreaming to take notice of how long I’ve actually been in here. I don’t even shave before I shut the water off and get out, purposely avoiding the bath rug because I hate the way it feels underneath my feet. I throw a clean towel over it and then I just stand here, gazing at myself in the mirror. Absently I begin to count the flecks of toothpaste staining the glass. I stop at fourteen.
Pulling open the medicine cabinet, I sift through the bottles and tubes of stuff in search of Advil. Thankfully, my so-called hangover only requires a couple of headache pills. When I find it, I go to pluck the bottle from behind a few brown-orange prescription bottles, and then I pause. I take down one of the prescription bottles instead and read the label. Percocet 7.5—Take one tablet every six hours as needed for pain—Nancy Lillard. No idea why my mom has a bottle of pain pills, which she obviously hasn’t taken, but she’s had back problems for a while, so maybe she finally saw a doctor about it. Or, maybe my mom, being an RN, is turning into a criminal on me and taking advantage of her easier-than-the-average-citizen’s access to prescription drugs.
Nah. That’s not likely, considering this bottle was purchased a month ago and is still full. She’s the same old mom I’ve known all my life who’s never been fond of taking anything for pain beyond the harmless over-the-counter stuff.