Kiss and Tell

“You have to stop doing this,” Jonathan groaned, carrying me to my room so I didn’t fall over.

At that point, I could care less. I needed to be drunk. I needed to forget about everything I’d done wrong. There was nothing fun about watching him leave with that bitch. I didn’t know her and I had no right to be angry, but come on. I would rather him pretend I didn’t exist than to stare at me while he wrapped his arms around her.

After he left, I’d knocked down so many drinks that I’d forgotten where I was. Charity wasn’t the important thing anymore; I’d probably embarrassed half of the team. It was enough to say I’d humiliated Jon, probably more than I’d humiliated Brent that night at the bar. He was right, I had to stop doing this.

I laughed, loudly, and patted his face as he held me up and opened the door to the bedroom. He sighed, rolling his eyes, before placing me on the bed and pulling up the covers.

“I have to change Jonny,” I slurred, rolling my eyes at his gesture.

He scoffed, “I’d say.”

I glared at him, “My clothes. Asshole.”

He let out a frustrated breath and turned to my closet, getting an oversized Seabrook shirt and boxers. I couldn’t even argue with the choice, I was getting more and more tired and dizzier as the seconds passed. Getting drunk seemed like a good idea an hour ago...

“Put these on,” he demanded, thrusting them into my hands, “Call me when you’re done.”

He left the room and I struggled to get dressed. There were too many holes and fabric that I was lost for a bit, but I’d managed. After I was fully clothed, I fell back onto my bed and shouted for Jon, who came back in looking even more pissed than he had when he’d left. This was too much like high school.

He reached over to pull me up into sitting position and pull down the blankets, before pulling them over me. He looked at me, as if he was waiting for something and I watched him curiously. Then, as if I realized what he was examining, I clasped my hand over my mouth and gagged.

“Fuck,” he jumped, rushing out of the room.

I gagged again, trying to keep it down for a few more seconds and luckily he returned with a garbage can. I leaned over and began to throw up into it. He sighed, pulling my hair away from my face and pinning it back with an elastic he’d found. I began to cry, no- weep, as I continued to vomit.

When did life get so rough? When did my biggest worry change from what outfit I’d wear, to which boy I loved? When did I have to make such big decisions that they were determining the outcome of my life? I don’t remember when I grew up and life got so hard, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t enjoy being an adult. I was a much better person as a kid.

I’m only 20.

I threw up again and my eyes were getting heavier. A few more gags and my stomach felt empty. Satisfied, I lied down on my back and shut my eyes, trying to fall asleep.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jon whispered, pulling me up to lie on my side.

I didn’t argue, I was far too gone to care. He wiped my eyes free of salty tears and changed the garbage bag. I didn’t know why he stuck by me when the world turned against me, I guess that was what best friends were for, but I knew that I felt special to have him in my life. He was a phenomenal person.

I couldn’t think anymore, I was too tired and dizzy. I needed sleep; I knew I’d have a rough day in the morning.

~

The next night, I sat on the couch watching ‘Sweet Home Alabama’, my safe route. I didn’t want to move, I’d suffered possibly the worst hangover in the world this morning, and for once in my life, I couldn’t remember bits and pieces of my night. It was the most awful experience ever.

I also spent a day alone. Jonathan had various hockey things to do all day, so he was out, and I was stuck alone. My day consisted of water, Advil and refraining from eating. I had to leave my room because of the overwhelming scent of puke, that febreeze just couldn’t fix. So I was settled on the couch all day, movies and TV.

I waited until about ten PM, when Jonathan walked back into the apartment. He opened the fridge like usual and then came into the living room. I felt his stare, but I refused to return the gesture. I was humiliated, I didn’t know what I’d done, or how badly I’d embarrassed him- I wasn’t able to look him in the eye.

“Leah.”

I sighed, glancing up at him, “What?”

He shook his head, shoving my legs over so he could sit next to me, “Do you mind telling me what that was about?”

I shrugged, letting my eyes drift to the blanket, “I don’t know.”

He reached over to rub my knee; he wasn’t going to stop until we talked about it. I didn’t want to; he already knew what was wrong. He knew what sparked my initiation to get totally wasted. It was one name, and it had dazzling blue eyes and blonde hair, and I broke his heart.

Patrick Kane.

“He looked so angry,” I whispered, pulling the blanket to my chin.

He leaned back and rested his arm on the back of the couch, “Kaner?”

I nodded, feeling the tingles throughout my body. I hated reliving it and I hated the way Patrick’s sparkling, bright eyes looked so dull and dead. I didn’t like seeing him different, seeing him in a way that I didn’t remember him. It was strange, it was uncomfortable, it was simply heartbreaking. I didn’t realize just how badly it hurt him until I read his eyes.

“Well,” he sighed, leaning against the cushions, “You guys are going to have to get over it.”

“Easy for you to say.”