I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache and the urge to hide from Lana after last night. Unlike my father, I’m not a mean drunk, but I am a stupid one who can’t keep his mouth shut.
To make matters worse, I broke Lana’s vase and then made her clean it up afterward.
I throw a pillow over my head to muffle my frustrated groan.
You have no one to blame for your behavior but yourself.
The door to my room creaks open. I pop my head out from underneath the pillow, expecting to find Lana in the doorway.
“Hi!” Cami shouts.
My head throbs in a silent reply. “Let’s use our inside voices.”
“Sorry,” she whisper-shouts.
Close enough. “Where’s your mom?” And how do I avoid her for the rest of the day?
Lunch already? How long did I sleep in?
“And what are you doing in here?” I sit up in the bed. I’m still wearing my clothes from last night, which look like they spent a week at the bottom of a laundry hamper.
“Mommy said you’re not feeling too good.”
My head knocks back. “She did?”
“Yeah. I heard her on the phone telling Aunt Dee you got a hang-ovary.”
I bust into laughter, although I regret it instantly with the way my head throbs. “I think you mean hangover.”
Her goofy, gap-toothed smile is slowly growing on me. “What’s a hangover?”
And this right here is the reason why I shouldn’t be allowed around kids in the first place.
I clear my throat. “It’s when people make bad decisions at night and wake up sick the next day.”
Her forehead scrunches. “Like when you eat too much chocolate and get a tummy ache?”
“Sure, kid. Just like that.” I wish my problems stemmed from eating too much chocolate. It’s far less harmful and way more enjoyable, which are two pluses in my book.
“How do you get better?”
I sigh. “I’m not sure if I ever will get better.”
“Why not?”
“Because I get sick a lot.” As sad as it is to admit.
Cami’s stare doesn’t hold an ounce of judgment. “With a hangover?”
“Yes.” Just because I have a high tolerance while drinking doesn’t mean I’m immune to feeling the next-day effects. I’ve just gotten better at managing them.
And disguising them.
“Oh. Wait! I know what will work! Stay right there, Cow-l.”
“It’s Cal. Just Cal,” I emphasize.
“Okay, Cal.” But it comes out more like cow. Maybe she’ll get it eventually, but today isn’t that day.
Cami runs out of the room, leaving my door wide open. Her bare feet slap against the wood floor as she rushes down the hall.
I’m tempted to leave just so I can avoid having another conversation with the kid. With the way my head throbs, it might be for the best.
Or you could just play nice and entertain Lana’s daughter after everything that happened last night.
Earning a point or two with Lana wouldn’t be the worst thing. As much as I’m not a kid person, I’m willing to pretend for a little while if it makes Cami happy, which in turn will make Lana happy.
So, against every cell in my body telling me to run far away from the kid, I stay in my room, waiting for the little wrecking ball to come back with whatever she thinks will make me better. Hopefully it’s a bottle of Advil and a glass of water.
A knock on my door has my head whipping in the direction of the sound. The rapid pace of my heart makes my ears pound.
Lana leans against the doorframe. “Do you have a minute?”
I swallow past the thick lump in my throat. “Sure.”
She steps inside my room and shuts the door behind her. With the way she stares at me, empty and unflinching, my stomach feels about ready to purge itself of last night’s bar food.
“Last night can’t ever happen again.”
My head drops. “No. It really shouldn’t.”
“I went ahead and took the key back.”
My fists tighten around the comforter. “I understand.”
“I don’t see how that’s even possible.” Her tone is sharper than a blade.
I ignore the churning sensation in my abdomen and focus on her. “About the vase…”
“What about it?” The question comes out icy.
“I plan on getting you a new one today.”
“Do you really think buying your way out of this will make up for you shattering my mom’s vase?”
I blink. “Your mom’s?”
Of all the things to break, it had to be something that belonged to her mother…
She releases a shuddery breath. “I knew it was a mistake agreeing to have you live here. I should have just taken my chances with the lawyers and left it up to a judge. I thought maybe you would have some common sense and be on your best behavior, but obviously I was asking for too much. What were you even doing coming inside the house that late?”
I fidget with my hair. “I wasn’t exactly thinking straight.”
“I should have never given you a key.”
“Lana—”
“No. You don’t get to Lana me and expect all this to go away.”
“I’m not trying to make things go away. I’m trying to say sorry.”
“Well, you can take your sorry and shove it up your ass along with all the other shit you spew.” She slams the door before I have a chance to even apologize.
“I’m back!” Cami barrels inside my bedroom like a torpedo. The door smacks against the wall, and a bit of plaster from the ceiling falls down.
That looks promising.
“Remember your inside voice.” I wince.
“Right. Sorry.” She bounces from one foot to another.
“What’s up?”
“I made you something to feel better.” She presses a folded sheet of paper against her chest.
“What is it?”
She beckons me closer with her finger. I consider leaning forward but think better of it, instead choosing to kneel down.
Cami’s face lights up as she unfolds the piece of paper. “Tada!”
I flinch at the stabbing pain in my skull.
“Do you not like it?” Cami’s smile falters, threatening to drop altogether.
“My head just hurts.”
“Oh, sorry.” Her bottom lip trembles.
A quick scan of the paper makes my heart catapult in my chest. It’s the simplest of drawings, with a big, wonky heart taking up a majority of the page. Within the red shape, she drew two blond stick figures. One has large squiggles on their arms while the shorter one has a triangle-shaped body to represent a dress. Below the heart, Cami wrote me a message.
Laughter explodes out of me at I trace over my name. Can’t say I’ve seen someone spell it like that before. “I love it.”
Cami’s entire face lights up like a firework, bright and impossible to ignore. “Really?”
“Best card ever.” My lips pull into a sincere grin.
Someone sucks in a breath. I look up from Cami’s face to find Lana staring at us with wide eyes.
“Hey.” I offer her a small smile.
“What’s going on?” She takes a step inside the room.
“I made Cow-l a card so he feels better.” Cami turns to show her mother the sheet of paper.
“Did you?” The tightness in Lana’s voice matches her rigid posture. “What’s wrong with him?”
Cami’s cheeks turn pink. “He’s gots a hangover.”
Lana glares at me like I’m the one at fault for teaching her daughter the word.
I raise my hands in submission. “She overheard you talking on the phone first about a hang-ovary, so don’t go pointing fingers at me.”
Lana turns to Cami. “That’s sweet of you.” She pats her daughter’s head, ruffling the tangled strands even more.
“Do you feel better?” Cami’s big blue eyes look up at me.
“Absolutely. I’m starting to feel better already.” Although the headache and nausea might take some time to wear off, the heaviness pressing against my chest since I woke up feels less intense.
Cami squeals as she clutches the card to her chest, crinkling the paper in the process. “I knew it would work!”
My eye twitches from the high-pitched tone. I discreetly rub my temple, trying to make the pressure go away.
“Why don’t we go swimming and leave Cal alone?”
Cami runs out of my room, squealing with excitement.
“Thanks.” I stand.
“I didn’t do it for you,” Lana spits out before following Cami, leaving me to stew in the silence. I try to busy myself with organizing the rest of the stuff in the attic. It’s a failed attempt, with me easily becoming distracted by all the noise happening outside the window.
The tightness in my chest intensifies at Cami and Lana hanging out by the lake. I’m hit with a hundred memories of Lana and me doing the same thing, although Lana actually spent time inside the water rather than out of it.
The sun beats down on her, casting a warm glow over her tan skin from where she sits on the dock. She shields her eyes as she looks over at Cami with a big, beaming smile I haven’t seen in years.
The feeling of longing from yesterday returns, this time much more intense than the last. I want to be down there with them.
Look what happened the last time you wanted something you shouldn’t have.
The thought sobers me, and I escape, choosing to return to the guesthouse. Except as soon as I walk outside, I find Lana’s car still in the driveway, the tire flatter than a pancake. Before I decide against it, I swipe Lana’s keys off the counter and get to changing her flat tire. It’s a bold idea, especially given that my experience with tires is limited to spending Sundays watching Formula 1 with Declan and Iris.
It only takes me five minutes in the baking sun to realize the mechanics on TV have it easy with their power drills and quick lift jacks. Unlike the guys on the live camera, the real deal is far less sexy and fast.
My start was shaky, but thanks to YouTube, Adderall, and my inability to be bested by a shitty tire, I replace the flat with the dummy tire I found in Lana’s trunk.
Although my head pounds and my stomach is feeling extra queasy after spending the last hour in the sun, I decide to take Lana’s car to the mechanic. Since I don’t want to leave her without a working vehicle for safety reasons, I take a rideshare back into town to grab my DBS before returning to the lake house. I leave her a note, my keys, and Cami’s booster seat just in case she needs a car before driving off into town.
I walk into the car shop. “Hi. I’m looking to get a tire changed.”
The mechanic takes one look at me before returning to the episode of a Korean drama playing on the TV in the corner.
“Do you think you can help me?” I stop in front of the counter.
“Sure. We’re all booked today but if you want, come in tomorrow morning. Early.” His eyes don’t stray from the TV this time.
One glance at the store hours printed on a paper behind him makes my eyes narrow. “Are you even open tomorrow?”
“Yup.”
I point to the sign behind him. He has the audacity to rip it down and crumple it in a ball before chucking it in the trash.
My molars grind together. “I’m willing to pay whatever you want to get it done today.”
He glances at me, the wheels obviously turning in his head before he shakes it. “Sorry, Sal. Wish I could help you out.”
“But you won’t.”
I place Lana’s keys on the counter. “The car outside that needs fixing is Alana’s. Take a look if you don’t believe me.”
His graying brows pull together. “It is? Why didn’t you start with that?”
I roll my eyes and tell him to pick the best tire. He disappears with Lana’s keys before coming back ten minutes later to let me know that her other three tires are bald and her oil needs to be changed. I give him the go-ahead to fix whatever he thinks is necessary for her and Cami to be safe. He gives me a weird look before disappearing back into the garage.
Two hours later, I drive away from the shop with a bill that’s a mile long and a lightness in my chest that hasn’t been present for days. The drive back to the house is quick. I pull into the driveway and park Lana’s car in her usual spot before ringing the doorbell.
She steps out, clutching my keys with a tight fist. Based on her clenched jaw and crossed arms, things aren’t going well for me, regardless of the fixed car.
She takes a deep breath. “I got your note. You didn’t have to do that.”
“It was the least I could do after yesterday.”
“Well, thank you.” She says it low, as if admitting her appreciation aloud would have a greater impact.
“It’s fine. I had the mechanic change the other three to match because I didn’t want you driving around in the rain with stripped tires.”
“You did?” Her eyes flicker from the car to my face.
“Yup. Also, he went ahead and changed your oil and swapped your wipers out for new ones too.”
She covers her mouth.
Uncertainty drives me to ask, “Is that fine?”
She nods, her glassy gaze still fixated on the car.
I hand her the keys. “Well, I’ve taken up enough of your day.”
We swap keys. Her fingertips brush across the palm of my hand, and electricity passes over my skin.
“Thanks. That was kind of you to help me with the car.” She disappears behind the door before I have a chance to answer her.
I didn’t expect much from her after last night’s incident, but part of me still wished for more. More what exactly, I’m not too sure. All I know is that my confidence from earlier is replaced by a new wave of emptiness. Except this time, I choose not to drown it with alcohol. It’s a self-induced punishment I accept wholeheartedly, knowing it is my fault Lana is upset in the first place.
That night I don’t go to bed drunk and numb. Instead, I go to bed alive and angry at my grandfather for putting me in the exact situation I knew would happen if I stuck around the last time.
I can’t replace the vase I broke. It’s a useless effort to even try, but I head out Sunday morning to the local mall an hour away from the lake with the hope of finding something to make up for my drunken accident.
Finding a vase is easy. The selection is endless, and I choose the nicest, most expensive one. Lana won’t care about the price tag, but maybe my effort won’t go unnoticed.
While the cashier is carefully wrapping my purchase so it won’t break, I walk around the rest of the store. A bright cherry-red standing mixer on a high shelf catches my eye. I think of Lana and her rickety old hand mixer that is on its ninth life before calling over the associate and asking her to charge the item to my card.
I’m not looking to buy Lana’s forgiveness.
I’m looking to buy into her dream, even if she doesn’t anymore.
Since Lana took my key away when I was drunk, I have to ring the bell and wait for her. At some point, I place the heavy standing mixer on the porch and bounce on the tips of my toes while she takes her sweet time answering the door.
It creaks open, and she blinks up at me. “What do you want?”
“I came to make amends.” I hold out the bag with the vase.
“With gifts?” She frowns at the bag.
Safe to say gifts aren’t a part of her love language.
My hope dies along with any excitement about the mixer. I step in front of the bag before she can see it while still holding out the other that contains the vase. “I know I can’t replace what I broke, but I wanted to get you a new vase anyway.”
She doesn’t reach for it. “What’s the point?”
“I’m trying to fix a problem I caused, not start more of them.”
“Then fix what actually matters here, and spoiler warning, it’s not the vase.”
“I…” I lose the rest of my sentence.
“What was the point of going back to rehab if you were only going to start drinking again?”
My heart feels like someone split it apart with the jaws of life. “I had lost my reason for getting sober in the first place.”
Her brows furrow. “What? Money? Hockey? The will to live a normal life?”
“You, Lana. I lost you.”
