but
rarely broke the rule about drinking alone. Her sloppiest inebriations were always in the company of others. She was a social drunk, personable, not pathetic, and certainly not problematic, even on those collegiate morning-afters when she woke up without panties, the stench of fresh puke in her hair. When she travels by herself, there's no company of others to drink with. So she doesn't. Except on the one occasion she did bring company back to her hotel room in the form of Len Levy. That night she did drink. A little too much.
"Miss!"
Jessica hears the shout and assumes it's directed at someone else because she's a "ma'am" now.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
When she drinks in the company of others, it's usually over a meal, in which case she orders the appropriate beverages to go with the food on the table: margaritas with burritos, sake with sushi, bold reds with pasta, sangria with tapas. Oh, how she wishes she were already on St. John, clinking cocktail glasses full of tropical fruity beverages with her best friends. She doesn't regret visiting Sunny in the hospital, though she does regret the unfortunate consequence of her actions: the possibility that she might miss Bridget and Percy's wedding altogether.
Jessica might feel less guilty about her delinquency if she knew for sure that Sunny had benefited from the visit. Her mom and dad (whom Jessica had never met in
person and who seemed more sympathetic than their daughter's essays made them out to be, though in this situation, even the most cretinous parents would be
transformed into good people worth rooting for) encouraged Jessica to talk to her as she always would.
They believed that their daughter could still hear, if not respond to, visitors' conversations, and that such interactions were crucial for stimulating her injured brain and could be the difference between a full recovery and a
semivegetative state.
"Hey, Sunny," Jessica had whispered, looking at the blips on the heart-rate monitor instead of her. "You know, I rearranged my travel plans to be here, so the least you can do is wake up."
No one else was in the room, but Jessica shrank with shame all the same. The joke felt crass, forced.
And worst of all, unfunny. Sunny definitely would have called her out on it. "With all due respect, Ms. Darling," she would have said, "that lame joke is why the baby Jesus weeps."
Jessica had known going into the visit that Sunny wouldn't be able to contribute to the conversation. Yet deep down, Jessica had hoped for a cinematic miracle that
was not going to come, at least not while she was sitting beside Sunny. That delayed realization made the rest of the brief visit almost too much for Jessica to take.
She stayed only until Sunny's beleaguered parents returned from a quick dinner in the hospital cafeteria, a ten-minute respite from a round-the-clock vigil.
She asked them to please call her cell phone at any time—night or day—if there was a change in Sunny's status. They promised someone would call her, if not them.
There were, after all, a lot of people who would need to be called. Jessica has been waiting for that call ever since.
Sunny's mom escorted her by the elbow to the elevator. As Jessica stepped inside, her mother said,
"Thank you for coming by. Sunny thinks the world of you."
The doors closed before Jessica could return the sentiment.
And it was that final fleeting glimpse of Mrs. Dae's torment that had driven her to drink too much last night. The first time since the last time she drank too much, which is a time she also prefers not to think about but for entirely different reasons.
"Miss! Miss!"
Jessica knows Sunny was plugged in to her MP3 player when it happened. She just knows. But what song was she listening to? What was the last thing she heard Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
before that driver blew through the stop sign, plowed
rarely broke the rule about drinking alone. Her sloppiest inebriations were always in the company of others. She was a social drunk, personable, not pathetic, and certainly not problematic, even on those collegiate morning-afters when she woke up without panties, the stench of fresh puke in her hair. When she travels by herself, there's no company of others to drink with. So she doesn't. Except on the one occasion she did bring company back to her hotel room in the form of Len Levy. That night she did drink. A little too much.
"Miss!"
Jessica hears the shout and assumes it's directed at someone else because she's a "ma'am" now.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
When she drinks in the company of others, it's usually over a meal, in which case she orders the appropriate beverages to go with the food on the table: margaritas with burritos, sake with sushi, bold reds with pasta, sangria with tapas. Oh, how she wishes she were already on St. John, clinking cocktail glasses full of tropical fruity beverages with her best friends. She doesn't regret visiting Sunny in the hospital, though she does regret the unfortunate consequence of her actions: the possibility that she might miss Bridget and Percy's wedding altogether.
Jessica might feel less guilty about her delinquency if she knew for sure that Sunny had benefited from the visit. Her mom and dad (whom Jessica had never met in
person and who seemed more sympathetic than their daughter's essays made them out to be, though in this situation, even the most cretinous parents would be
transformed into good people worth rooting for) encouraged Jessica to talk to her as she always would.
They believed that their daughter could still hear, if not respond to, visitors' conversations, and that such interactions were crucial for stimulating her injured brain and could be the difference between a full recovery and a
semivegetative state.
"Hey, Sunny," Jessica had whispered, looking at the blips on the heart-rate monitor instead of her. "You know, I rearranged my travel plans to be here, so the least you can do is wake up."
No one else was in the room, but Jessica shrank with shame all the same. The joke felt crass, forced.
And worst of all, unfunny. Sunny definitely would have called her out on it. "With all due respect, Ms. Darling," she would have said, "that lame joke is why the baby Jesus weeps."
Jessica had known going into the visit that Sunny wouldn't be able to contribute to the conversation. Yet deep down, Jessica had hoped for a cinematic miracle that
was not going to come, at least not while she was sitting beside Sunny. That delayed realization made the rest of the brief visit almost too much for Jessica to take.
She stayed only until Sunny's beleaguered parents returned from a quick dinner in the hospital cafeteria, a ten-minute respite from a round-the-clock vigil.
She asked them to please call her cell phone at any time—night or day—if there was a change in Sunny's status. They promised someone would call her, if not them.
There were, after all, a lot of people who would need to be called. Jessica has been waiting for that call ever since.
Sunny's mom escorted her by the elbow to the elevator. As Jessica stepped inside, her mother said,
"Thank you for coming by. Sunny thinks the world of you."
The doors closed before Jessica could return the sentiment.
And it was that final fleeting glimpse of Mrs. Dae's torment that had driven her to drink too much last night. The first time since the last time she drank too much, which is a time she also prefers not to think about but for entirely different reasons.
"Miss! Miss!"
Jessica knows Sunny was plugged in to her MP3 player when it happened. She just knows. But what song was she listening to? What was the last thing she heard Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
before that driver blew through the stop sign, plowed
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