After hours of small talk, I found myself looking for another glass of wine more frequently. The majority of people had come to offer a brief hello, how are you and goodbye. Others didn’t want to leave but were forced to after reports came out that some houses were without power due to the storm gathering outside. Grace and Jordan had left just minutes ago, after Grace started coming down with a headache. Offering me a lift home, I brushed them off with the excuse that I wasn’t done drinking yet. Grace only smiled in sympathy and turned to the door, Jordan in hand.
Some strangers, under the pretence that they had been close friends with Anne, stood around in smaller groups. Probably reminiscing about the good old days. I decided to grab a bottle of vodka from the counter and go outside. Sitting on one of Cathy’s milk crates, I took a swig from the bottle and savoured the warmth of the liquid running down my throat. After a morning of tears, I hadn’t realised just how dehydrated or tired I was until the alcohol started to take effect. My reaction skills were dulled and I carelessly placed the bottle on the cemented ground. Placing it down on an angle, I watched foolishly as the bottle briefly swirled before tipping over to the side. In my drunken state, I then proceeded to watch the remnants of the vodka gush out onto the sidewalk, gathering into a puddle at my feet. Aware of the painful hangover that was looming in the near future, threatening to appear the moment I stopped drinking, I decided that today was an exception and lifted the bottle back up to swallow whatever was left of the drink.
A loud crack of thunder that landed directly over my head had me flinch at the sharp sound. A wall of rain began to fall across the town, flooding everything in its path. My lack of care for the situation left me stranded on the milk crate as the rain eventually also enveloped me in its oddly warm embrace. Without moving, I sat there and stared ahead wishing for it to drown me. Letting the water pour over me, I remained seated and stared in front of me at a small crack in the road, when the wheels of a car glided over it and came to a stop. Looking up at the car windows, I squinted through the rain to see who was driving.
The passenger door opened and the driver yelled: Get in!
Already drenched from head to toe and with no way of getting home other than walking, I decided to take a chance and jump in. I stumbled over to the car and slipped inside, slamming the door shut behind me just as another clap of thunder ripped through the sky.
The voice continued: Jesus, you’re soaked to the bone!
I looked over at the driver and was about to slur something sarcastic in reply but paused.
Sitting in the seat beside me was Luke McLeod. Stunned into silence, I watched as he leant back into the seat behind him and grabbed a jumper. Tossing it over to me he said: Here, put this on.
One hand holding the now empty bottle of vodka and the other holding the black jumper, I just sat there and didn’t say anything.
His foot still on the break, he also sat there and looked at me. Eyes full of sympathy, just like the rest of them.
I frowned back at him and said: Please don’t look at me like that.
He laughed awkwardly in response and asked: Like what?
Frustrated by the stupid question, I answered in a short tone: Like my mum just died.
Biting down, he clenched his teeth and apologised: Sorry, but I’m looking at you like that because you look like a house cat that was left out in a storm.
Trying to lift up my spirits, I looked over at him once again. Dressed in a black suit and clean-shaven, his dark hair was only messy enough to tell me he had been one of the many faces in the crowd at the funeral. I wasn’t surprised. It was a small town after all.
Sitting there, soaked, with his black jumper resting in my lap, I looked in his eyes and said: Thank you for coming to mum’s funeral today. She would have appreciated it.
Like a robot programmed to repeat the same sentence over and over again, the words felt forced and disingenuous. He knew it, too, but didn’t seem to mind given that today was, indeed, my mum’s funeral.
Returning back to the steering wheel, Luke eased his foot on the brake and slowly drove through town, pushing through the torrential rain that pulsed against the windscreen. We sat in silence, Luke’s eyes glued to the road because visibility was at an all-time low thanks to the rain. With the windscreen wipers working relentlessly to maintain a clear view, I settled further into the seat, relishing in the comfort of white noise.
For the first time today, I felt relaxed. Whether it was the fact that the funeral was over or that my body was numb from all the wine, champagne and vodka, I didn’t seem to care. Like a weight being lifted off my shoulders, I felt that I could relax without guilt. As if I had finally done what was expected of me. I felt relieved.
Knowing that Luke wasn’t going to break the silence out of respect for me and everything that had gone on today, I decided to keep quiet and simply enjoy the break in small talk. With everyone offering their condolences and myself repeating the same ‘thank you’ and ‘we really appreciate it’ phrases, I decided that I’d had enough and that my drunken self needed some alone time.
Sitting there, in solitude, I was taken by surprise when a cool shiver ripped through my body. Too drunk to realise how cold I was, I looked down at my hands and saw how purple my fingers had turned. I frowned. Wasn’t it hot outside?
Tearing his eyes away from the road just quickly enough to look over in concern before returning his gaze back to rain ahead, Luke said: You should put the jumper on before you catch a cold.
The fogginess of my own thoughts sobered up at the mention of a jumper. Looking down to my lap, I picked up the black jumper that he had given me earlier. Nothing special, aside from a logo of some local band sprawled across the front. I held the jumper up for inspection, smiled and said: Cute.
The hint of a smirk as Luke angled his face as if he wanted to look over at me but thought better of it when an oncoming caravan swerved in the rain. It quickly regained control before gliding past us and sending a wall of water onto our windscreen.
I shivered again as the warmth of the vodka started to recede. Taking advantage of my alcohol fuelled confidence, I decided that there was no time like the present and pulled off my silk top. What had been a light and flowing top ended up clinging to my body like a saturated towel. I dropped the shirt on the ground between my feet. It landed in a wet thud as the material clumped together in a wet mess. Pulling the jumper over my head, I sighed as the wool immediately began to warm my body back to its normal temperature. I savoured the welcome change and looked over at Luke as I said: Thanks.
His grip on the steering wheel relaxed and so did his shoulders. He took a second to look over at me wearing the jumper and smiled. His blue eyes were just as icy as the day I first saw them in high school. His smile was still goofy-looking, but the creases in the corners of his mouth gave a maturity to his face. I still remember how pathetically doe-eyed I had been, looking at him when I was younger. An annoying fifteen-year-old who had attached her own meaning of love to the first guy who smiled at her in the corridor. For me, that had been an eighteen-year-old Luke, who had unknowingly bulldozed me over as he ran through with his friends.
I pulled my knees up to hug my arms around my legs and smiled at the memory. If he ever found out that David Longmire and I were the ones who had prank called him back then, I would be mortified. So young. So embarrassing.
A short time later, we pulled up to the driveway, where Luke eased to a stop and visibly relaxed, having arrived safely through the torrential storm. Grace’s car was nowhere to be seen and all the lights were off, which told me that she must have decided to stay at Jordan’s. Knowing that she probably needed his company after the day we had, I somehow felt robbed.
Having Grace stay with me over the last few days was incredibly comforting. More so than I cared to realise. Gathering my things and loosely clutching the soggy silk top I had picked up from the floor of the car, I took a breath and looked at Luke.
Thanks for driving me home. I would have been stuck otherwise.
With his mouth partly open in an attempt to reply, I waited awkwardly for a moment before taking that as my cue to leave. I pulled at the door handle and went to push the door open but paused and added: Oh, and thanks for the jumper. I’ll make sure to wash and return it tomorrow.
Spurred into movement, Luke quickly regained his voice to reply: You can keep it. I looked over at him in confusion, so he added: It never fit me anyway.
Realising how well it sat over my shoulders and how small it must be on him, I asked: Why did you buy a jumper this small?
He laughed briefly at the memory before he offered: I bought it back when I was in high school and the Fishers were touring. Shrugging at the thought, he continued: I was too drunk to realise that I had bought the wrong size, but I also couldn’t bring myself to get rid of it.
I remembered the night that the Fishers had come into town and how David and I had skipped school that day to go spy on the drummer, who had posted a photo from the beach. I smiled at the memory.
Yeah, it was a pretty fun night.
Luke smiled as well. I remember you climbed onto the stage and tried to crowd surf, he smiled as he spoke. I’m pretty sure you got kicked out after that?
Gobsmacked that he remembered, I stammered.
You saw that?
He laughed at my response.
Yeah, I saw you. I also saw you and David Longmire skipping school before class even started.
I couldn’t believe he had seen me. This whole time I thought that I had been no one to him, but he had actually known who I was.
Stunned, I admitted: I can’t believe you knew who I was.
I was still shocked by the revelation and Luke laughed.
Of course, I knew. You were the one who threw her bag over the school fence trying to get out, only to have to climb back over to help your friend who got caught in the bushes below.
Sitting in awe, I was dumbfounded. If only I had known.
I looked up at Luke and saw his eyes creasing in the corners as he smiled. Feeling the soaked silk top in my hands still dripping from the rain, I returned the smile.
Thanks again, Luke, I really appreciate it.
The robotic voice from before was replaced by something nicer. Something genuine. He knew I meant what I said because he inclined his head and smiled again.
Anytime, Marle.
Hearing him say my name felt remarkably warming. I don’t know if it was the fatal attraction I had towards him as a teenager, the weather or the fact that I had copious amounts of liquor earlier, but I felt lonely and I was craving some sort of affection. I leant over the middle compartment and lingered for a moment before lightly placing my lips against his. It started out soft and inquisitive but quickly turned rough. My hands abandoned the wet silk top in search of his pants. He groaned into my lips when my hands found what they were looking for. I was in the middle of unbuttoning his pants when his hands lightly pulled my face away from his.
We can’t do this Marle.
Brows pulled down in confusion, I sat back in the passenger car seat. Avoiding eye contact, he sat there with his head bowed down. His rejection burned like the cheapest kind of tequila.
After everything that had happened today, to be turned down when affection was all that I wanted—it hurt. Embarrassed and angered, I grabbed at the door handle and stormed out. Slamming the car door behind me, I walked away from his car, through the storm and then into the dark, cold house. Alone.