I woke up at three o’clock in the afternoon on January 1st. I reached for my phone, but it was nowhere around. My heart started pounding, and I sat up to search for it. When I did, my head felt like someone was kicking it from the inside, so I lay back down. There was a huge glass of water by my bedside and two Advil on a napkin. I swallowed them and chased them with the water before crawling under the sheets.
There was a knock on my door. I'd meant to yell, "come in," but what erupted from my mouth sounded like a zombie moan. Dawn poked her head in, and her body followed once she saw I was awake.
“Where’s my phone?” I croaked. Dawn just shook her head.
"Does that mean you don't know where my phone is, or does that mean you're not going to give it to me?"
"The last thing you need is to look at your phone," she said. I glanced around my bedroom. "That also goes for your laptop and your tablet." She added, correctly reading my mind. "This is a technology-free zone…for now."
“Dawn, stop fucking around. Technology is my job…” My words died away at the look on her face. “What?”
She walked over to my bed and sat down. "How much of last night do you remember?" Her expression had me worried, but I tried to tune out the pounding of my head and focus. Last night felt like a black hole in my memory. Then certain parts gained color, and the blurred edges sharpened.
“Mike’s engaged.” I sighed.
“What do you remember about the party?”
I sighed again and tried to focus.
"We counted down to midnight. There were balloons and confetti. I found out my ex-boyfriend of two weeks is getting married to someone else. I had a couple drinks…" That's when the memories ended. Dread began to creep over me, causing my stomach to churn. Nothing good ever starts with, "I had a couple of drinks, and then I don't remember anything…”
"Oh my God! What happened?"
"I'm not sure exactly." Dawn wore an expression that looked like guilt. "I'd met a friend, and we were talking when my phone started blowing up with alerts.” She stopped speaking.
“Dawn. Keep saying words.”
She put her hand over mine. “You started posting on Instagram.”
That doesn’t sound that bad. I can talk my way out of a few drunk pics. I was at a New Year’s Eve party, right?
“They were videos. Three of them actually.”
I felt my body deflate, and I let out a sound that was a cross between a sigh and a whimper. "Were they bad?"
She nodded. "The first two were about Mike, and the third one was you making out with a stranger. I managed to stop you before you made a fourth one. There's also a fair amount of drunken selfies with ‘fans' and a few videos of the hotel's security carrying you out of the party.
Oh my God. Oh my fucking God.
"You threw up on one of them, but he didn't get too upset. Eric helped me get you inside, and you threw up on him too." Eric was one of the doormen/security guards for our building.
My eyes started to well up with tears.
“Did Brenda call?”
“Yes, everyone has called. Your grandmother called. She’s the only person I would’ve let you talk to, but she insisted I let you sleep. The phone will not stop ringing. That’s why I took it away.” She sighed and placed her hand on my thigh over my duvet. “Mike is here.”
"What?" I sat up, and my head started ringing again. "I don't want to see him. Did you tell him that I didn't want to see him?"
“He wanted to make sure that you were okay.”
I've only been awake for an hour, and 2019 is already shaping up to be the worst year of my life.
“He also said he wanted to apologize.”
Apologize? Now, I was curious.
“How do I look?” I tried to smooth my hair away from my face before turning to face Dawn.
“Like death sucking on a lifesaver.” She tried to stifle a smile before she walked to my bathroom and rolled my makeup cart to my beside. “How long do you need?”
“Five minutes should be fine.” I glanced at my hand mirror.
Holy Fuck. I did look like death sucking on a lifesaver. How drunk was I that I went to bed without removing my makeup?
“Ten minutes! I need ten minutes.”
Twenty minutes later, I gave Dawn the signal. She left my room, then the tall, bearded asshole who ruined my life entered. He ducked his head into my room, wearing a sheepish half smile and holding a white paper bag with huge grease spots on the bottom. I crossed my arms and tilted my chin upwards, trying my best to look regal and indignant, but the sight of the bag and the familiar smell that emanated from it made my traitorous stomach growl.
Mike walked in and took a seat in my armchair. The last time he sat in that chair, we were naked, and I was straddling him. That was last summer, then I realized that Mike and I hadn't had sex in months. Maybe that was something I should have paid attention to. I bet he doesn't have that problem now. I felt my lips purse.
With my head tilted and eyebrows raised, I flicked a glance at the bag he was holding. He leaned forward, and I snatched it from his hand.
I stuck my face in the bag and inhaled. My favorite hangover remedy was inside, and one of my few indulgences. I didn't eat ice cream. In fact, I avoided carbs and sugar like the plague, and I didn't drink to excess. However, the few times I did, I allowed myself to indulge in a triple hefty burger from Bubba's Burger Joint with cheddar, Swiss and jack cheeses, double bacon, special sauce, and onion rings. I tore open the burger's wrapping and took a bite. Shuddering, I closed my eyes. It was so good. Mike was watching me with a smug look of amusement. I should have thanked him, but instead, I said, "You forgot the onion rings."
“Nope,” he replied. “They’re in there.”
"They're in the bag, but you're supposed to ask for onion rings on the burger, so they soak up the special sauce."
“You’re right.” He chuckled and sat back in the chair. “I’m sorry.”
Speaking of sorry.
“Why are you here?” I asked through a mouthful of burger.
His smile faded, he wiped his hands over his face and tugged on his beard.
"Look, I didn't handle this the best way. Something happened, and it made me realize that my life wasn't going the way I wanted it to, and I needed to fix it. We weren't happy, and it wasn't fair to either of us to keep pretending but—"
“Stop. Your 'it's not you, it's me' speech sucked the first time. I don't want to hear it again." I took another bite of my burger and shoved an onion ring in my mouth. He nodded and sighed.
“I’m sorry about the song and the engagement. All of that shit was supposed to be private. I should’ve been more careful. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I stopped chewing for a moment because a lump had formed in my throat, and my chest constricted at Mike's words.
“What makes you think you hurt me?”
He averted his eyes and started picking at a piece of lint on his jeans.
“I saw the videos.”
I stopped chewing again.
"Judging by the look on your face, you haven't seen them and don't remember what you said…" He looked at me, and I looked away, shaking my head. "Or did?"
“Dawn gave me the gist.”
"Chellie, I didn't come here for forgiveness. I don't deserve it. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and to let you know that none of this was intentional." He got quiet for a while. "I also wanted to give you this." He held out what looked like a brochure. I sucked the special sauce off of my fingers and snatched it out of his hand. There was a picture of a log cabin, and it was surrounded by trees. This brochure looked like it was designed before I was born and printed on a home computer. There wasn't even a website.
“What is this?”
“A guy I went to high school with owns a bunch of cabins in the woods. He rents them out. It’s a good place to unwind and regroup. It might be good for you to get away for a while. Let everything blow over. It’s all paid for, whenever you want to go.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re trying to send me away?” I tossed the brochure at him. “What? Are you and Jane planning a parade down Fifth Avenue?” Her name tasted like ash in my mouth.
“No,” he groaned. “I’m just trying to help.”
“Well, you’ve been very helpful this last week. Thank you for all the helping. Now, you can help me by getting out.”
Mike put his hands on his knees and rose to leave. He picked up the brochure and put it on my bedside table.
He pulled the door open and turned to look at me.
"Just think about it, Chell. I really do care about you, and I am really sorry. I just want you to be okay."
I didn't respond. Even though I was furious at Mike and probably would be for a long time, I knew he was right. We would have broken up eventually, but that didn't make my current situation—that he caused—any easier. Throwing my burger and hitting him in his stupid chiseled face would have made me feel better, but I was too hungry. I just watched him leave and ate another onion ring.
Dawn came into my room, holding my phone.
Thank God. I sucked the sauce off my fingers and made grabby hands at her.
She held my precious out to me, then held it out of my reach when I went to grab for it.
“Your mom’s on the phone. I’m taking it back as soon as you’re done.”
She wasn't backing down from my glares. I nodded and held my hand out again.
"Hello, Mother."
Dawn occupied the seat Mike just vacated.
“Chellie Belly, what a mess!” My mother set the tone for our conversation by using my childhood nickname alluding to my childhood weight issues, which my therapist tells me are really her issues. “What were you thinking?”
"I wasn't thinking, Mother. I was drunk,” I replied deadpan. I noticed Dawn stifle a smile, and it cheered me up a little.
“I just got off the phone with Brenda. She says you’re not answering her calls?”
"Nope. I'm hungover, and Dawn is holding my phone hostage."
"It figures. I swear that girl is jealous of you. I heard she was also at the party with you. She was a big help, wasn't she?" My mother wasn't fond of Dawn, and the feeling was mutual. I was on #TeamDawn.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to talk to your manager and figure out how to sort out this mess. The girl I raised does not run away from her responsibilities.”
Although I was raised by nannies, I wouldn't mention it because I wanted to get her off of the phone as soon as possible.
"Okay. I'll call Brenda. I have to go. I'm in the middle of eating."
“I hope you’re not eating one of those disgusting burgers.”
“Nope. Fruit salad.” I shoved another onion ring in my mouth.
“Good, but not too much fruit. It’s full of sugar.” She sighed. “I could wring Mike’s neck for embarrassing you like this. You’re good to be rid of him. Did you see that ring? Did he find it in a Cracker Jack box? And I heard this new girl of his is homely. Have you met her?”
"No, I haven't." Actually, I'd met Jane dozens of times throughout my relationship with Mike, and she was far from homely. She'd be prettier if she made an effort, but I wasn't ready to talk about Jane to anyone, much less my mother, who at the moment seemed more concerned about mending my career rather than my possibly broken heart. My phone beeped, indicating that I had a call coming in. It was from Brenda. I didn't want to talk to her, but I wanted to talk to my mother even less. "That's Brenda. I have to go."
“Okay, Chellie Belly. Let me know how it goes and be sure to get some exercise. The endorphins will be good for you.”
“Okay.” Bye, Mommy. Love you too! I rolled my eyes and answered Brenda’s call.
“Hi, Brenda.” I tried to sound cheerful.
“Don’t you Hi, Brenda me. What the actual fuck was that?”
“I’m sorry, but I told you that I wasn’t ready. I—”
"Oh, grow the fuck up, Chellie. Your sponsors are dropping like flies, and The Kick is refusing to pay your appearance fee. They've threatened to sue."
“I thought you said all publicity was good publicity.”
"That's bullshit unless you want to accept the three very lucrative offers I've gotten from porn companies." She paused for effect, and it worked. I got quiet. While I have nothing against porn—I watch quite a bit of it—doing porn wasn't in my five-year plan. "We need to figure out a way to rehab your image fast or you're finished. You have the just dumped pity thing working for you, but that’s only gonna last so long before people get bored. So, you better come up with something fast.”
My gaze fell upon the picture of the log cabin.
Damn it.
“Actually.” I snatched the brochure off of my nightstand and turned it over in my hand, rolling my eyes while cursing Mike’s existence. “I have an idea.”