found a damp washcloth on my face. It had probably started out cold but was now tepid, cooked by the sick heat radiating from my skin.
More banging from the vicinity of the door, each loud blast registering in my entire body like a seismic event. “Wake up, girl.”
I peeled the washcloth off and took a couple of daggers to the deep cortex as the light hit my eyes. Make the pounding stop was the only thought that emerged—the pounding on the door and in my head. Everything felt wrong. My heartbeat was too fast. My breathing was too shallow. I was cold, and I was hot.
“Alexandra, do I have to—”
I cleared the rubble from my throat. “I’m coming. Hold on.”
“Thank God. If you’re not completely dressed and ready to walk out this door, you are so in trouble.”
It took all the focus I could gather to sit up and push myself to the edge of the bed, where I had to pause to see if I could stand up without throwing up. Tristan was yammering about being late, and I knew I was, and about people waiting, and I was sure that was true, but all I could think about was whether my legs would support me if I tried to stand up and walk across the room.
They did. I even managed the strength to turn the knob and open the door. The dead bolt was not engaged, and I had a fleeting thought about how stupid that was and how drunk I must have been to forget to lock it. Or not to worry enough to lock it.
The door flew open, and Tristan bolted into the room. He was in uniform, looking marvelously groomed for…
“What time is it?”
“It’s five twenty-five A.M., and you’re due to leave on the five-thirty shuttle to the airport. Seven thirty-five departure. Hello? Is any of this ringing any bells?”
He disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, he had two of those squatty hotel room glasses filled to the brim with water. He balanced them both in one hand and carried my toiletry bag in the other.
“Sit down before you pass out again, and drink both of these. Every drop. Then go into the bathroom and throw some cold water on your face.” He checked his watch. “We have exactly four minutes before the courtesy van leaves. Everyone is downstairs waiting, and they will leave without us and never look back.”
I did what he commanded and watched as he shifted into emergency mode, flying around the room, gathering my things. I was wearing my uniform except for my shoes, which was the good news. The bad news was it looked as if I’d slept in it, and I had a dim recollection of coming in last night, which had actually been this morning, and putting it on so I wouldn’t have to worry about it later.
Tristan plucked my jeans from the floor. “You should have listened to me.” He smoothed them on the bed and did a nice trifold. “I never should have let you come home by yourself.” He fit the jeans into my crew kit and looked around the room. “Once you’re past the point of no return, which you most definitely were, it’s better to stay up all night.” He spotted one of my shoes peeking out from under the bedspread and snatched it out. “We should have gone somewhere for eggs.”
Drinking the water helped. Listening to him talk about eggs did not. I found my way to the bathroom, but when I looked in the mirror, more confusion. It wasn’t me. It was my face with someone else’s hair. No…wait. It was my hair. I had changed the color. Gone blond, sort of, in that color-out-of-a-box way, something Sally had been nice enough to point out.
“Fix your face at the airport, dear. We have to go. Chop-chop.”
I took a last look in the mirror, trying to see myself objectively, as, say, a passenger might see me. I looked the way I always did when I’d had too much to drink. Bloodshot eyes floating on puffy dark pillows underneath. In fact, my entire face was puffy except for where it flattened into a network of tiny lines at the corner of each eye. The lines were more pronounced today than I had ever seen them.
More banging from the vicinity of the door, each loud blast registering in my entire body like a seismic event. “Wake up, girl.”
I peeled the washcloth off and took a couple of daggers to the deep cortex as the light hit my eyes. Make the pounding stop was the only thought that emerged—the pounding on the door and in my head. Everything felt wrong. My heartbeat was too fast. My breathing was too shallow. I was cold, and I was hot.
“Alexandra, do I have to—”
I cleared the rubble from my throat. “I’m coming. Hold on.”
“Thank God. If you’re not completely dressed and ready to walk out this door, you are so in trouble.”
It took all the focus I could gather to sit up and push myself to the edge of the bed, where I had to pause to see if I could stand up without throwing up. Tristan was yammering about being late, and I knew I was, and about people waiting, and I was sure that was true, but all I could think about was whether my legs would support me if I tried to stand up and walk across the room.
They did. I even managed the strength to turn the knob and open the door. The dead bolt was not engaged, and I had a fleeting thought about how stupid that was and how drunk I must have been to forget to lock it. Or not to worry enough to lock it.
The door flew open, and Tristan bolted into the room. He was in uniform, looking marvelously groomed for…
“What time is it?”
“It’s five twenty-five A.M., and you’re due to leave on the five-thirty shuttle to the airport. Seven thirty-five departure. Hello? Is any of this ringing any bells?”
He disappeared into the bathroom. When he came back, he had two of those squatty hotel room glasses filled to the brim with water. He balanced them both in one hand and carried my toiletry bag in the other.
“Sit down before you pass out again, and drink both of these. Every drop. Then go into the bathroom and throw some cold water on your face.” He checked his watch. “We have exactly four minutes before the courtesy van leaves. Everyone is downstairs waiting, and they will leave without us and never look back.”
I did what he commanded and watched as he shifted into emergency mode, flying around the room, gathering my things. I was wearing my uniform except for my shoes, which was the good news. The bad news was it looked as if I’d slept in it, and I had a dim recollection of coming in last night, which had actually been this morning, and putting it on so I wouldn’t have to worry about it later.
Tristan plucked my jeans from the floor. “You should have listened to me.” He smoothed them on the bed and did a nice trifold. “I never should have let you come home by yourself.” He fit the jeans into my crew kit and looked around the room. “Once you’re past the point of no return, which you most definitely were, it’s better to stay up all night.” He spotted one of my shoes peeking out from under the bedspread and snatched it out. “We should have gone somewhere for eggs.”
Drinking the water helped. Listening to him talk about eggs did not. I found my way to the bathroom, but when I looked in the mirror, more confusion. It wasn’t me. It was my face with someone else’s hair. No…wait. It was my hair. I had changed the color. Gone blond, sort of, in that color-out-of-a-box way, something Sally had been nice enough to point out.
“Fix your face at the airport, dear. We have to go. Chop-chop.”
I took a last look in the mirror, trying to see myself objectively, as, say, a passenger might see me. I looked the way I always did when I’d had too much to drink. Bloodshot eyes floating on puffy dark pillows underneath. In fact, my entire face was puffy except for where it flattened into a network of tiny lines at the corner of each eye. The lines were more pronounced today than I had ever seen them.
Similar Books
