Count Me the Hours

My ears were still popping like mad when I stepped into the cold air of the airport. My basketball shorts were sagging, showing the grey fabric of my Soffee shorts underneath. My tank top had lost it's tight fit and it was hanging a bit loosely as I readjusted the strap of my bag on my shoulder.

I looked around the crowded airport, not even sure who I was looking for. I'd sent Mila my flight info, but she'd never responded, so for all I knew, she might not even have seen the email.

I pulled out my phone, taking as seat as it turned on. I rubbed my ears, praying they'd soon stop popping. There was a voicemail I'd received from Mila an hour ago.

“Hey, sis,” she said with a giggle. “Uhm, I'm not going to be able to pick you up from the airport. I'm really sorry, but something came up at the last minute. Rent a car and I'll pay you back, I swear. Bye!”

I groaned, standing up. I headed to baggage claim, trying to stretch as I walked. I found my suit cases and made my way to the rental counter. Soon, I was in my rental car, a silver Chevy Cobalt, on my way to my mother's house. The drive along the Arizona highway was boring, only tolerable because the sound system in the car had an iPod hook up.

Being tortured by angry cannibals sounded more appealing than turning off the highway into Tempe. I hated this town. Hated it.

Tempe Arizona held nothing but bad memories for me. Years of dealing with an alcoholic father, a self-absorbed mother, and a sister to match had left me with a less that perfect youth and a bitter outlook on the town.

The only thing that I even remotely cared about in this pathetic town was Mila. I figured I'd be returning to this town about three more times. Once when her and John divorce in a year and she needs some one to listen to her cry, then again for her next wedding, and lastly, for her funeral, if I'm still around then.

The suburban cul-de-sac of generic, cookie-cutter houses seemed too perfect for my family. My mother was the most popular real estate agent in Tempe and was always raking in the cash.

The house we had moved into during my sophomore year was huge, complete was four car garage, tennis court, and a pool the size of Lake Erie

I grabbed my suitcases from the trunk and stared up at the large brick prison in front of me. I sighed, walking up the drive way towards the door.

The second my feet touched the steps of the deck, the heavy wooden door swung open and the glass door shot open as well, and a tiny person lunged at me.

“Lu, I've missed you so much!” Mila said, talking a million miles an hour, still holding onto me tightly.

“Uhm, yeah, missed you too Mila,” I said awkwardly, trying to keep my balance while still holding onto my suitcases. She pulled away with a giggle.

Mila was perfect in every way. Her hair was glossy blonde, the color of gold, and her eyes couldn't be brighter. She was petite everywhere, barely standing 5'3. Her hips were slim, her waist even more so. Her clothes were designer and her smile genuine.

“Oh my god, Lu, we have so much catching up to do! And we've got to get you in to see Seth pronto. You're ends are dead and you're in bad need of some high lights,” she said, studying the ends of my hair.

“I'll pass, Mila,” I said, pushing past her to get into the cool air of the house.

The air conditioned air and familiar scent of the house hit me full on when I finally entered. I stood in the foyer and looked around.

“You guys painted in here,” I said, noting the now red walls.

“Well, we didn't paint; We paid people to,” she said with a laugh, dragging the rest of my bags in the door, closing it behind her.

My thoughts as I looked around were interrupted by the clack of heels on the marble floor.

“Tallulah Mae Bishop, where the hell have you been?!” my mother yelled, walking into the foyer.

“Oh god,” I said quietly, rolling my eyes.

My mother, a Texas native, stayed true to the state's main motto: big. Her hair, her breasts, her house, her car, her business, all big.

“Honey, I have missed you something awful!” she exclaimed loudly, directly in my ear as she threw her arms around me, her surgically perfects breasts squished into my arm.

“Hi, Mom,” I said awkwardly, trying to pull away from her.

“Sweetie, you look so good! But you've gained some weight...” she said, her voice trailing off.

“Actually, I'm following this new trend that you might have heard of. It's called being healthy,” I informed her with a scoff.

I grabbed two of my bags and started to walk towards the opposite end of the hallway when I saw something white dart across the floor in front of me.

“Holy hell! What was that?” I yelled, jumping backwards.

“Oh!” Mila cried, swooping down and returning to a standing position with a writhing white rat in her hands.

“What is it?”

“This is Daisy. John got her for me as an early wedding present!”

“Wow. He gave you a rat-dog named after one of his own songs. Such class and originality,” I said, walking past her towards the door at the end of the hallway.

I opened it and started up the stairs to my room above the garage. Nothing had changed. The walls were the same dark grey as they'd been when I left. The bed was made, an abundance of pillows at the head of it. My scarves were still tied around the four posters of the bed frame.

This room had been my retreat, complete with it's private bathroom and private access to the garage, making it perfect to sneak out. I sat on the edge of the bed and sighed.

I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and dialed Sarah's number.

“Hola chica,” Sarah answered, sounding bored.

“Hey,” I said with another sigh.

“How's the good old A-Z?” she asked, adding a bit of a southern twang to her voice.

“John got my sister a dog and named it after one of his own songs. The first thing my mother and sister commented on were my weight and hair.”

“Have you seen John yet?” she asked.

“Not yet, but the engagement party is tomorrow, so it's only a matter of time.”

“You know I'm on your side, darling,” Sarah assured me. I could hear the smile in her voice.

“I know. But hey, I'm going to take a nap. I'll talk to you soon.”

“Keep me posted!” she yelled as I pulled the phone away from my ear to hang up.

I turned my phone off, ending all contact to the outside world. Next, I threw back the blankets, sliding under them. I buried my face in my pillow and frowned when it didn't smell like home.

I slept for several hours, waking once in a while to roll over. I woke up to a grumbling stomach and I frowned as I sat up. I glanced int the mirror above my desk.

My hair was sticking up in some places, and matted in others. My eyeliner was smudged and there were bags under my eyes. I tied my hair up haphazardly, not really caring.

As soon as my feet hit the stairs, a high pitched yapping filled the air and when I opened the door, the white rat was waiting for me, still barking, it's tail moving like a whip.

“Get!” I told the puppy as it jumped up at me. “I don't want you!” I eventually gave up as I walked to the kitchen and it followed me.

“Mom? Mila?” I yelled as I entered the massive kitchen, finding it empty. I shrugged, grabbing a bow from the cupboard. I set it on the counter as I moved to the pantry, picking up the box of Special K and grabbed the milk from the refrigerator as well.

I poured a nice amount of cereal into my bowl and as I began to pour the milk, I yelled, “Mom, Mila, where are you guys?”

“The reception hall called. They had to run down there.”

I looked up to see who had entered the kitchen and dropped the gallon of milk in mid-pour. The cold liquid splashed all over, soaking my shorts and the floor.

“Fuck,” I said, bending quickly to pick up the still emptying jug. I grabbed several towels to try and sop up the milk. Daisy was quick to prance over and lap up some of the milk.

A pair of hands joined me in trying to mop up the milk.

I looked up and found myself staring into the same hazel eyes I'd once been so in love with. He smiled and the corners of my mouth upturned slowly. I pushed my bangs out of my eyes and rose to my feet.

“Hello, Tallulah,” John O'Callaghan, my ex-boyfriend and my sister's fiancé, said, smiling at me further.

“Hi.” I waved awkwardly, starting to shiver from the cold, milk-soaked fabric stuck to my skin.

“Sorry about that...I shouldn't have snuck up on you,” he said, looking down at the milk on the floor.

“My fault,” I said quietly, shaking my head with a sigh.

I walked into the laundry room, looking for something of Mila's I could fit into. I shimmied out of my shorts and managed to fit into a pair of sweats that were a size to small for me, meaning they were four sizes too big for Mila.

I returned to the kitchen to find that John had cleaned up the remaining milk. He was sitting at the table, drumming his fingers lightly. I dumped the cereal in the trash, needing something stronger.

I grabbed a wine glass from the rack and bent to open the wine cooler under the counter. I grabbed a bottle of red wine and sat at the table across from John. I poured a glass of wine and pushed it towards him. I raise the neck of the bottle to my lips, taking a long drink.

“Always so classy, Lu,” he said with a quiet laugh.

“You bet.” I sighed, looking around the kitchen.

We sat in an awkward silence as we drank.

“You look good,” he told me with a bit of a nod after several silent minutes.

I couldn't hold back a scoff before saying, “Sure, that's what Mom and Mila said. Then Mila told me my hair looked like shit and Mom told me I had gained weight.”

“You look fine to me,” he said with a shrug.

“Well, everyone looks 'fine' compared to my little sister, who is also your fiancé.”

“Lu, do we really have to talk about this?”

“What else is there to talk about, John?! The only reason I'm even here is because I have to be the fucking maid of honor!” I said, my voice rising as the alcohol circulated my bloodstream.

“Lu, things didn't turn out the way we'd planned in high school. You weren't supposed to go all the way to Virginia for college,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose with a sigh.

“You weren't supposed to be touring constantly,” I shot back with rapid fire. “And you weren't supposed to marry my little sister either.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the front door opened, that sound followed by the shrill barking from the dog.

“We're back!” Mila announced, walking into the kitchen.

“Hey,” John said with a genuine smile as she leaned down to kiss him.

When I saw their lips touch, an invisible fist clutched my gut. I stood up quickly, my hand around the neck of the bottle. Calmly yet briskly, I walked out of the kitchen to my room, where I spent the night with wine.