The Body Mafia by Stacy Dittrich Page B

yesterday. I remembered our conversation, word for word. I remembered the clothes I wore, I remembered what Michael wore, I remembered what time we left, and lastly, I remembered when we made love.
    Each of these memories came flooding through me, side by side with the glasses of vodka I was drinking. By the time the bartender yelled for the last call, I could barely stand up, let alone drive. But I did get into my car, doing my best to drive with only one eye, since closing the other brought my triple vision down to double.
    Getting picked up by a member of my own department was the least of my worries. They would simply park my car and take me home. However, if a state highway patrolman came along, I would be looking at a full-blown arrest for DUI. Those guys didn’t practice professional courtesy, even to each other. Of course, there was always the possibility of crashing into someone, and hurting or maybe even killing them. This was a possibility I didn’t want to consider. Not that I could’ve dwelled on it for a lengthy amount of time anyway. About a mile from my house, I steered my car in the direction of what I thought was the road. Unfortunately, I chose the wrong side of my double image and wound up hitting a tree.
    I sat for several moments, stunned. It took a few more moments for me to comprehend what had happened. How I would get out of it would take much longer. Normally, when a bad situation arose, Michael would be the first, and only, person I would call. Nowthat he was gone, I didn’t know what to do. There was only one choice, and I had to do it quickly before another car came along. Coop.
    Attempting his cell phone first, I wanted to avoid a late-night call to his house. He answered sleepily on the third ring, and I prayed the call hadn’t woken Naomi.
    “Coop! It’s CeeCee.” I was elated he had answered.
    “What is it?” he asked groggily.
    “Listen to me, and don’t let Naomi know anything. I’ve had an accident, and I need you to come and pull me out of a ditch. I think my car is still drivable, if I can get it out.” I did my best not to slur my words.
    “Why don’t you just call a tow truck?”
    My silence was his answer.
    “Oh, let me guess. Because you’re loaded out of your fucking mind, that’s why!”
    “Coop! Please don’t let Naomi hear you.”
    “She’s downstairs. She fell asleep watching TV. I ought to let your ass be picked up by the highway patrol. Maybe then you’ll get your shit together!”
    I started to whine like a small child. “Coop, I know, I’m sorry! Please come down here and help me.”
    “Where are you?”
    “Halfway down Hanley Road, between Lexington Avenue and Middle Bellville Road. Bring your truck and a tow rope.”
    “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
    Waiting and praying a state trooper wouldn’t drive by, I was thrilled to see Coop pull up less than ten minutes later. He had my car out of the ditch in no time. The front end wasn’t terribly mangled. The ditch caught most of my momentum before my car hit the tree, and most importantly, it was drivable.
    “How the hell are you gonna make it home?” Coop asked.
    “The crash sobered me up enough that I think I can make it one more mile.” I avoided his gaze.
    “I’ll follow you.”
    “What did you tell Naomi?”
    “She was still asleep. If she’s awake when I get home and she asks, I’ll tell her you hit a deer or something.”
    “Thanks, Coop,” I said softly, my head down.
    When we arrived at my house, I said a silent prayer. Coop, who hadn’t bothered to pull in the driveway, poked his head out his window.
    “You’ll be okay?”
    I nodded.
    “Get some sleep, CeeCee. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    Too embarrassed to say anything else, I gave him a slight wave before going inside and diving on my bed, clothes and all. Morning came quickly, along with a monstrous headache and a queasy stomach. It was when I walked in front of my bathroom mirror that the image looking back