Chapter 4

May 2004

Anna’s mouth was dry. Her tongue, thick and heavy, was stuck to her teeth. Her head throbbed. She shifted position to get more comfortable. Her pillow was driving her crazy. Why was it so lumpy? Opening one eye to darkness, then the other, her eyes adjusted, letting the room come into focus: brick walls, a shaded window at one end, a couch, coffee table and television creating a small living area beneath it. The bed hugged the wall on the opposite side. In an alcove behind her was a small kitchen and a hallway, presumably leading to the bathroom. Anna sat up, heaving her legs over the side of the bed. Next to her, a loud snore broke the silence and nearly startled her across the room. A man was in bed with her. He wore a white t-shirt and boxer shorts, one hand shoved under the elastic waistband. His powerful legs were tangled in the covers and his other arm was slung over his head; his hairy armpit exposed. Anna was relieved to find she was wearing a t-shirt and underwear. She crept through the kitchen, having guessed correctly at the location of the bathroom. Head throbbing, she neglected turning on the light. As she sat on the toilet, she tried to piece the previous evening’s events back together.

Mark had picked her up…they’d eaten that terrible food… gone to the bar…oh. The bar.  Mark had ditched her, several shots, lots of beer. As Anna had waited for the cab, the hour grew late, and one by one her new friends had gone. Even Spaz had finally given up and hitched a ride with Brett. James closed the bar but kept the lights on in case the taxi did show. Then he’d brought a bottle of brandy around and sat down next to her, taking a swig, and passing it over.

“We might as well enjoy the wait,” he smiled. Anna was beyond tipsy, and knew she should stop drinking, but something in James’ eyes seemed to be challenging her, so she raised the bottle to her lips. There was an intimacy in sharing the bottle. They chatted for a few minutes, and then the chatting had evolved into deeper conversation. Family histories, plans for the future, likes, dislikes. The bottle had stood untouched for some time before Anna read the Bud Light clock hanging behind the bar.

“Jesus! It’s 4am! I have to get home. I don’t think the cab is coming.” She tapped her fingers on the bar top. “Shit. What do I do?” Anna pulled out her flip phone. It flew out of her fingers and crashed to the floor, nearly breaking into two pieces. A small cluster of wires held the two sides tentatively together. “Fuck! My phone! Sorry, I swear a lot when I drink too much. Fuck!”  Anna bent over to pick up the phone and stumbled. She tried to right herself, but it was too late. She drunkenly careened past James and fell ass over teakettle into the table behind her, knocking over a chair on the way, landing in a heap on the floor. James magically appeared beside her, like a mirage.

 “Are you ok?” he asked, concerned. Anna groaned, assessed that she was unhurt, and burst out laughing. James started laughing, too, and collapsed on the filthy floor next to her. They giggled until they were exhausted by it, tears streaming down their faces. They looked into each other’s eyes, and that was all it took. They were all over each other: kissing, touching, groping. They stopped suddenly, their heavy breathing the only sound in the air.

“We can’t do this here,” James panted. Anna giggled, burped unexpectedly then groaned.

“Chinese food. Eew.”

“Come on, stinky.” James pulled Anna up, keeping his arm around her waist.

The room swayed as she asked, “Where are we going? And stop calling me stinky.”

“Upstairs.  To my apartment.”

“You live upstairs? Huh. Who knew?” she slurred. James collected their scattered belongings, turned off the lights and guided Anna out the back door, locking it behind him. There was a small landing with a steep wooden stairway leading to a second story enclosed porch.

“Be careful, the stairs aren’t in the best shape.”

“How do I know you’re not some serial killer who lures women with toxic flatulence back to his apartment to torture them?”

James’ deep laughter rumbled in his chest. “If that was the case, Spaz wouldn’t still be around.”

“Good point,” she slurred. “I can see why you’ve chosen law. You’re full of fine arguments.”

They stumbled inside. Anna asked to use the bathroom and James pointed her down the hallway. She crashed into the wall on her way.

“Ouch! Shit! I’m okay!” she called. After a lengthy pee, Anna struggled out of her pants. She checked her face in the mirror: bloodshot eyes, pale face, hair a mess. She squeezed some toothpaste onto her finger and tried as best as she could to scrub her teeth clean.  She stole some mouthwash, too. What was she doing?! She was in a stranger’s apartment, in a town she didn’t know, with a broken phone, no car, and no way home. This was not typical Anna behavior.

Her musings were interrupted by a soft rap on the door.

“Are you okay?” James asked.

Anna opened the door and made her best attempt to saunter past James, pants slung over her shoulder. He was watching her with half closed eyes, leaning against the wall, baseball hat askew.

“My turn. Is it safe in there?”

She flipped him the bird and he laughed, closing the bathroom door behind him. Anna looked around the apartment, but her eyes were unseeing. Drunken exhaustion swept over her. She flopped down onto the bed, assumed what she hoped was a sexy pose, and that is the last thing she can remember.

Now, sitting on James’ toilet again, her throbbing head in her hands, Anna pushed her mind to remember what had happened next. She was frustrated with herself. Maybe she could sneak out of the bathroom, grab her things, and walk to a payphone. Beyond the mortifying events that began the evening, she was even more mortified at her own unsafe behavior. Talk about leaving yourself in a vulnerable situation.

Using the same toothpaste and finger method as the previous evening, Anna scrubbed her teeth. She found the mouthwash in the cabinet behind the mirror and swished. Head pounding, she tiptoed out of the bathroom. She needed ibuprofen and greasy food. The pulsing in her head filled her ears as she bent to retrieve her pants. These tasks having exhausted her, she momentarily collapsed into an armchair, closed her eyes, and waited for the pain to subside. When she opened them, James was peering at her from the bed. A low groan escaped his body.

“What were we thinking? Whose idea was it to drink the brandy?”

“Yours,” Anna croaked. “Thanks for that.” There was an awkward silence. “I’m sorry to ask, but could you give me a ride home? I’m happy to give you gas money, or whatever.”

“No.”

“What?”

“No.” There was a long pause, while he pressed his fingers to his temples. “We need breakfast. Then we’ll get you home.”

“Oh. Ok. That sounds good, I guess.” 

What James must think of her- getting dumped, taking a dump, going home with him…. most guys would want out of this situation as quickly as possible. He lay unmoving, his arm covering most of his face. She thought he might have fallen back asleep, but then, without warning he sprang out of bed.

“Ok! I’m up! 

Next Chapter: Full House