Someone Please Tell Me What Happened
Toilet flushing and pipe-rattling noises woke me up. With Frankenstein precision, I shuffled to the bathroom sink and drank from a Dixie cup before sticking my head under the running faucet. I pretended not to recognize my reflection. My matted hair stuck to the side of my head, smeared mascara circled my eyes, and I wore my t-shirt inside out, back to front, with the wash instruction tag hanging under my chin.
The sensible thing to do would be to go back to bed, but my armpits stuck together, and I wore an avid outdoorsy scent. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I rotated the shower knob and waited for hot water. Inflamed red bumps covered my sensitive areas, triggering my memory. The only thing I’d figured out last night was that it’s entirely possible to be in the wrong place at the wrong time more than once in an evening. I’d been attacked by a swarm of chiggers, kind of made out with a minor, witnessed a basement brawl, and hadn’t gotten around to telling Katie Lee that her boyfriend had slept with Bridget and owed Billy Ray ten thousand dollars.
As I rinsed away last night’s party funk, knots tied inside my stomach, and an inner turmoil regarding Katie Lee’s reaction to Bridget’s forthcoming confession manifested inside my chest. Before today ended, Katie Lee was going to freak. Bridget would probably get a purple eye and be paying for a one-way ticket on a Greyhound back to Greensboro. I needed to brace myself for the verbal outburst and tears that would be forthcoming.
I heard shouting and wrapped my head in a towel turban. I hopped on one foot to unplug the water in my ear. Definitely yelling. Mostly profanities with a southern drawl. An engine revved outside the bedroom window. I threw on clean underwear and a fresh t-shirt before kneeling under the billowing shade.
Beyond the magnolia trees, Nash’s stationary truck was missing both rear wheels, and the axle rested on cement blocks. Wearing only jeans, he ran down the street and launched a rock at a red turbo Mustang that sped away. “You speed on home and climb back in bed with your mama. You deep-fried chicken shit.”
If he was trying to wake the neighbors, he was doing a great job.
Slipping into clothes, I brushed out my hair and checked outside the window again. Walking up the driveway, Nash smacked unsuspecting foliage with a stick he’d found.
I hustled downstairs to find out what was going on. At the kitchen table, Macy nursed a can of Mountain Dew through a straw. She wore a black dragon kimono robe, and her hair clumped in unnatural angles.
“You aren’t looking so good.”
Macy dropped her head into folded arms. “I feel like dog doo.”
“Where’s Katie Lee?”
“Outside.”
“Bridget?”
The door to the garage slammed shut. Out of breath, Katie Lee said, “Still asleep, in my parents’ room.”
So Bridget hadn’t rushed down to have a heart to heart with Katie Lee over toast and coffee.
“Why is Nash’s truck on cement blocks, and did I just see him in a shirtless sprint, shouting obscenities down the street?”
Katie Lee shook her head heavenward. “Billy Ray’s pissed that Nash kicked him out last night. As revenge, he stole a couple of wheels off the Dodge truck.”
Macy removed her lips from the straw. “That’s fucked up.”
“Where’s Nash now?” I asked, wondering if he’d gone to fetch ten thousand from under his mattress.
“He took Big Blue.”
I torqued my head. “You let him have the keys to your car?”
“How else would he get his wheels back?” Macy said.
“Guess we’ll all be bussing it back to Greensboro,” I mumbled.
Katie Lee poured a bowl of dry cereal and picked out the colored marshmallows. “So, Macy, did you fool around with Stewart Hayes?”
Macy curled her lips in a toothless smile. “He nibbled on my neck, and I was into him.” Her raspy voice sounded like she’d been screaming at a concert all night. “Before we went upstairs, I needed to take pregnancy precautions, but I’d left my safety gear in my travel case, inside Big Blue.”
Stiffening my hand in the air like a stop sign, I asked, “Do we really need these details for this story?”
“Yes,” she growled. “Now where was I?”
Katie Lee reminded her, “You’d secured your diaphragm.”
“Before I found Stewart, I bumped into Nash and Bridget.”
Macy was getting to the juicy part when the phone rang. “Hold it right there, y’all,” Katie Lee said. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
Softening her voice, Macy confessed, “That blue pill Nash gave me knocked me on my ass.”
“Really?” I snarked.
“Nash is a terrible pharmacist.”
“He’s a prison sentence waiting to happen,” I said.
Katie Lee walked back into the room. “That was Patsy. She’s on her way. Keep goin’.”
“I was headed upstairs,” Macy said, “to fool around with Stewart when Nash offered me some pills, and I took one.”
With a mouth full of milky cereal, Katie Lee asked, “What kind of pill?”
“One that put me to sleep,” Macy groaned.
Abandoning her cereal, Katie Lee sighed. “Nash thinks he has emotional anxieties. Even though I wish he wouldn’t, he relies on meds.”
As Katie Lee confided in us, I hoped she felt queasy from being spun by Nash’s tilt-a-wheel of lies and deceitful behavior. If she was near her breaking-up point, maybe Bridget’s confession would convince her to make the leap.
“His family life hasn’t been the greatest. He escapes with drugs and alcohol.” Her eyes clouded with tears. “He’s never straight with me. When I ask him what’s going on, we end up fighting. Last night was another big blowout, and we didn’t make up until early this morning. Y’all, I love him, and I know I can help him.”
That did not sound like a prebreakup statement.
Blowing her nose, Katie Lee turned to face Macy. “Did you sleep with Stewart or what?”
“Sleep with him. Yes. Have sex with him, I don’t think so.”
“How can you not know?” I asked.
Footsteps creaked a floorboard, and Macy closed her open mouth. A few strands of Bridget’s blonde hair fell out of an otherwise flawless ponytail. Her makeup looked fresh, and her eyes avoided mine. I hadn’t forgotten her plea. I intended to make sure she told Katie Lee that she’d slept with Nash. She didn’t have to worry. I’d drop her off at the bus station.
“Hey, Bridget,” Katie Lee said.
Bridget acknowledged the morning with a meek wave before staring inside the open refrigerator.
“We started fooling around upstairs,” Macy said. “But that blue pill kicked in, and I passed out. I woke up naked, but everything seemed in order south of the border.”
“Good Lord,” Katie Lee said.
Macy stood up to get another soda. She asked Bridget, “Did anything exciting happen with you last night?”
“Compared to you, I’ve got nothing.”
A BRIGHT GLARE DRENCHED warm rays on the kitchen patio and streaked past the French doors’ hourglass curtains. The sunlight blinded my vision, and I switched kitchen chairs. I didn’t need any more heat radiating on me. Bridget’s twisted deceit had charred my internal organs like a blackened marshmallow on a fire pit. She was an idiot to have slept with Nash. Katie Lee would never forgive her. I didn’t attempt to grasp either one’s interest in Nash, a guy who laundered money and was involved with God only knows what.
The audile grunts of their bedroom romp that I’d heard from behind a bathroom door had distracted my sleuthing focus. Bridget’s excuse was überlame, and I guessed Nash’s wouldn’t be much better. Being the recipient of deception sucked. I knew that firsthand, thanks to my mother. The only positive about last night’s tryst between the sheets was that once Katie Lee found out, our connections to Nash would be history.
As soon as Katie Lee disappeared into the laundry room off the kitchen, I plastered goldfish eyes on my face while repeatedly clearing my throat. Bridget glanced at me for two seconds before moving away from the refrigerator. Holding a pitcher of juice, she raised her voice to ask Katie Lee, “Where do you keep the glasses?”
If she felt remorse, I didn’t see it.
“Bridget,” I said, “I heard something happened to you last night.”
Her mouth contorted, and her face drew a brain dump expression.
Katie Lee returned and bounced a glance from me to Bridget. Grinning, she asked, “Did you fool around?”
Bridget took a sip of juice. “I wish.”
I wished I had a blowgun with venomous needles to shoot at a blonde target. You flaming liar rested behind my teeth. A primal grunt shot out of my mouth, but a rat-a-tat-tat sidetracked my impending verbal assault.
Patsy muffled, “Hey, y’all,” around a powdered Krispy Kreme that clogged her pie hole. She pulled three-quarters of the donut out and asked, “How’s the basement?”
“After some cleaning up, the damage is minor,” Katie Lee said. “Nash and I used wood glue. The racks are standing. I’m just waiting for them to dry.”
“I didn’t hear a damn thing last night,” Macy said.
“How many bottles broke?” I asked.
Katie Lee held up six fingers.
Bridget relaxed on a counter stool. “Can I pitch in to buy replacements?”
Katie Lee’s shoulders dropped. “You are so thoughtful to offer. The whole incident wouldn’t have been so horrible if the assholes hadn’t broken Mama and Daddy’s commemorative champagne. I’m beyond mad at Billy Ray. Now I’ll have to fess up about the get-together.”
The skin under the seams of my jeans felt dry and inflamed, and I couldn’t stop scratching my hip. Squinting, Macy asked, “Do you have fleas?”
Lifting my shirt, I showed the girls a portion of my bug bite rash.
Macy backed her chair away from mine. “Eugh. How did you contract that?”
Patsy answered for me. “Rachael sat in a chigger patch down by the river.”
Katie Lee visually inspected my red marks. “There’s oatmeal soap in the master bath linen shelves. Do you want me to get it for you?”
I locked eyes with Bridget. She barely stirred, enjoying the morning as if this was any ordinary day, not the one where she was going to turn Katie Lee’s world upside down.
“I’m familiar with the master bathroom. I’ll find it.”
I TOOK SHOWER NUMBER TWO with an oatmeal bar and afterward applied a heavy application of pink calamine lotion. The red bumps still itched. After last night’s alcohol consumption I needed air, the outdoor kind, and trod downstairs with the intention of walking to the dock while avoiding the chigger-infested grassy bank.
While wondering if Nash had returned Big Blue, I heard hushed tones in the family room and froze. “I was drunk,” Bridget whispered. “I don’t even like him.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Katie Lee replied.
I didn’t have boyfriend experience, but if I’d been dating the same person since high school, I would’ve reacted with some emotion and made sure Bridget had a reason to visit a chiropractor—weekly. Maybe Katie Lee intended to break up with Nash and had moved beyond caring. I needed to find out for myself. Clearing my throat, I made a casual entrance and plopped into Dr. Brown’s reading recliner. There weren’t any noticeable signs of distress, boxes of tissues, or weaponry pointing at Bridget’s head. Was Katie Lee in shock? The two stopped the conversation, and I asked, “Are we cool?”
“Yeah, Rach,” Bridget said. “We’re cool.”
“Everything’s okay?”
“As okay as it can be,” Katie Lee said, “Y’all, we need to get ready to go to Jackson’s.”
“Wait a minute. Who’s Jackson?” I asked.
“Jackson’s a great guy,” Katie Lee said.
Sinking back into Dr. Brown’s chair, I pulled the recline lever. Unable to believe Katie Lee was okay with sharing Nash, I watched her closely for any signs of a mental breakdown. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary and asked, “Do we have transportation?”
“Not yet, but Nash’ll be here.”
She could say his name without flinching.
“Where is Jackson’s?” Bridget asked.
“His apartment is above the Marina Supply Store. Patsy got the clambake invite. He’s expecting all of us this afternoon.”
“Clams aren’t in season,” Bridget said.
“Around here, they’re never out of season.”
NOTE TO SELF
The sticky fluff inside Bridget’s head has hardened and cracked. Since when is sleeping with a friend’s boyfriend to prove a point considered a sacrifice?
Is Katie Lee really okay sharing Nash? I won’t be borrowing him, ever.