I'm Low on Gas and You Need a Jacket

God. Fucking. Damn it. My head is pounding, I feel like I have cottonmouth and I have to puke. I’m dreading even moving off the bed.

The room I’m in is a little dark. The curtains are drawn – thank God, and the door is shut.

“Where the fuck am I?” I groan, as I try to think of last night’s events, and as I start to recall, and remember my build up to where I’m at now, I want to cry. I’m no longer in a relationship with the man I loved. Love. Whatever.

I roll over to my left, and there is a little bedside table with a glass of water, and two tablets of some type of painkiller and a note in chicken scratchy handwriting. It kind of looks like a first grader wrote it.

“I figured you’d be needing these after last night. Whenever you get up, come down stairs. I’ll make you something like I promised.” It said – and as I read the last part, as if on cue, my stomach started playing the song of its people.

I gingerly get out of bed, feeling the room spin around me, and I grab on to the bedpost for support. After about five minutes of standing there with my eyes closed, trying to recollect myself, I continue on with leaving the room and heading downstairs.

When I arrive, I see the stranger from the night before, sitting at a table, writing something down. He doesn’t notice me at first – and I croak out a “Hi” and he turns to look at me, and he smiles.

“You’re awake. I’m glad. How are you feeling?” He asks, with big concerned brown eyes.

“Honestly, I’m starving.” I say shyly and again, my stomach lets out a god-awful noise and I wrap my arms around myself, embarrassed, and he smiles.

“Good. I’m hungry too.” He says happily and crosses towards the kitchen, pulling out pots and pans and various items out of the refrigerator.

“So, when I have a hard night of drinking and God knows what, my favorite thing to eat in the morning is a chicken fajita omelet. How does that sound do you?” He asks, heating up a skillet on the oven, and cutting up chicken and onions and whatever else goes into this omelet.”

“It sounds like you’re the physical embodiment of kindness. Thank you so much for taking care of my sorry ass. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” I say to him, giving him a weak smile, and taking a seat at the kitchen island bar type deal he has set up.

“It’s fine. Really. I couldn’t leave you out there in the state you were in. You seemed so upset.” He says, dumping the contents into the skillet, and it starts to loudly sizzle, and instantly – I’m hit with the aroma of what he’s concocting.

He turns to look at me, leaning against a counter. I can’t make eye contact with him. I was pathetic last night.

“I don’t think I caught your name. I’m Mike.” He says, reaching a big tattooed hand out towards me.

“Lil. My name is Lil. I say, extending a smaller hand, taking mine in his.”

“Lil? Short for anything?” He says, raising an eyebrow, smirking a little. I just shrug.

“Yeah. It is, but I like Lil. It’s simple.” I say, while looking at his hand. When we pull apart, I realize that he has the deathly hallows symbol tattooed on his palm.

“I love Harry Potter too.” I blurt out, before I could really stop myself. Mike seems beside himself, he’s so happy.

“Harry Potter is life. I have a portrait of him on one of my legs, and on the other, I kind of have like a vato Hedwig.” He chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, looking away from me slightly. He’s nervous. He’s cute.

“I don’t have any tattoos – but I’ve read the books countless times, and have seen all the movies.” I offer with a smile.

He turns back to his cooking and I just kind of play with my hands until he’s done cooking. The silence isn’t awkward at all. It’s almost comforting.

About ten minutes pass, and Mike starts plating the food. “What would you like to drink?” He asks me – setting a steaming hot plate of heaven right in front of me. It smells so fucking good. He’s attractive, he’s kind, and he can cook. This man really is a catch. Who ever he’s dating truly is a lucky one.

“Orange juice, if you have it.” I tell him, waiting for him, before I start on this food.

He pours me a full glass of orange juice, and for himself, just some water, and he walks over to the living room with his plate and drink.

“Come in here!” He calls out to me. “We can watch The Prisoner of Azkaban while we eat! It’s my favorite!” I can just hear the excitement in his voice. I quickly grab my food and join him. Why is he so perfect? That particular movie is my favorite as well in the Harry Potter series.

We’ve long since finished our food, and the movie just went off. The plan was to take me home whenever we were done eating, but we both were just too wrapped up in the movie to leave.

Mike gets up and stretches – me, following suit.

I start to tell him that I’ll go upstairs so I can change back into my clothes from the night before, and he cuts me of telling me that I can just keep what I’m wearing of his. That it’s no big deal. What a relief. What he gave me to wear is just so comfortable and I really don’t want to put back on my club outfit. I run upstairs to get it, along with my shoes and I just throw it all into a shopping bag that he gave me.

I come back downstairs and tell him I’m ready to go, and he gives me a nod, and leads the way out of his house.

When we get in the car, he asks me where he’s taking me.

“You know the club where we were at? Can you take me to the Hampton Inn that’s like caddy corner to it? That’s where my car is, and I’ll just drive home from there.” I ask him, and he replies with an, of course.

“Lil, can I ask you something?” Mike asks on the car ride to the hotel. We’re about halfway there.

“Well Mike, you already asked me something, when you asked me that question.” I say, looking at him side-eyed, and he laughs, and I can’t help but laugh as well. “But seriously, what’s up?” I add on.

“Why were you so upset last night? I mean, you don’t have to feel obligated to tell me, I’m just really curious.” He says, keeping his eyes on the road.

Even though he’s been nothing but wonderful to me, I just don’t want to give him the whole truth on why I ended up at that club, why I drunk myself into a stupor.

“I wasn’t upset Mike. I just was looking to have a good time, and I had a little too much to drink – and I tend to get a little fragile when I’ve had too much. That’s all. I’m fine.” I try to say evenly, giving a smile at the end for good measure.

He glances at me slightly with a little frown. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe me, but he won’t call me on my bluff. After all, we’re two strangers, who will, after this, more than likely won’t see each other again.

“Alright.” He says, as we pull up to the hotel. He parks, and we both get out of the car.

“So I guess this is it.” He says, more of like a question. I don’t really know how to respond.

“Yeah, I believe so.” I say softly, kind of rocking back and forth.

“Take care of yourself, Lil. It was really nice meeting you. You’re a lovely girl. Don’t let stupid shit get you down.” Mike says, giving me a hug before I could even say anything, and giving me a light kiss atop my head.

“Thank you, for taking care of me Mike. I really, really appreciate it. I don’t know what I would have done last night if it weren’t for your kindness, but be careful of picking up strangers, not all of them will be as nice as me.” I say jokingly, poking him in his arm.

He gives me one last smile, I give one last wave, as he gets into his car and drives off.

What a really nice guy. He got my mind off of things for a little bit. As lovely as our morning/afternoon together was – it’s time to get back to reality.

What the fuck am I going to do?

Cameron and me are pretty much done. Me and Cameron live, well, lived together. I will not stay in that apartment full of memories. I get in my car and start to sob, getting upset all over again.

The one person I truly loved, never loved me at all.

I don’t know if I have a home to go back to.

I don’t know what to do. I have no one at this point.

I cried for about twenty minutes, before it dawned on me.

I haven’t spoken to him or seen him in a little bit, because he’s always busy with work, but my cousin is really amazing. Well, we were related by marriage, but they split, and we’re still really close. I still consider him family.

I frantically look around my car for my phone, and once I find it, I dial his number, mentally willing him to pick up.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three rings.

“I fucking miss you so much.” He croons to me, and my heart warms.

“I miss you too. I miss you so much. I also need a huge favor from you.” I say in between my sobs.

“Wait, are you crying? Lil, what’s wrong?” He asks panicked.

“Cam and I are done. I don’t have anywhere to go. I feel like shit. I just need one of your hugs.” I wail, and he groans.

“I knew he was no fucking good for you. I just fucking knew it Lilly baby.” He mutters.

“You’re always right.” I say in between a new set of sobs.

“Just go back to where you guys live and call me when you get there.” He orders me.

I let out a measly “Okay.” And start to make my way back to our apartment.