Ocean Breathes Salty

I lay sprawled out on my bed, staring up at the ceiling in an over-sized tie-dye T-shirt. The sun was setting outside signaling another day spent doing nothing but thinking about Hannah. I had to get out of this apartment.

I had phoned Dennis at the diner earlier this morning, begging for him to let me come back to work a day early. It just resulted in him forcing me into another week off.

“I don’t think you’re ready to come back,” he had said. “Just one more week and I’ll put you back on the schedule. You need time to really grieve, Meadow.”

I didn’t want to grieve. I threatened to find another job but Dennis called my bluff. I was already comfortable at Buddy’s, I had my regular customers. I didn’t want to work anywhere else. I just had to wait it out.

I rolled over and lifted my phone in front of my face. About every half hour or so I would scroll through Facebook expecting to see something new and exciting but ultimately giving up a few seconds later. This time I had up a party invite.

“Paul Bradley invited you to his event.” The Facebook notification read. I opened it up, actually considering. At least it would be something to do, something to get me out of this room. There would probably be free alcohol.

Paul Bradley was your generic high school burnout. He threw parties every weekend in the apartment that his parents promised to pay for as long he actually attended his ASU classes. Not having to pay rent meant he had a surplus of money to spend on booze and drugs. Free beer and weed meant everyone was friends with Paul. Even I was.

I pushed myself out of my bed and stumbled over to a pile of somewhat clean clothes on the floor. Sifting through the pile, I managed to pull out a pair of shorts and a wrinkled up black tank top. I put the shirt up to my nose to make sure there was no odor. I pulled the T-shirt off over my head revealing a hot pink bra and matching underwear. Hannah always said that when you match your underwear you’re guaranteed to have a better day. Her trick wasn’t working so well for me lately.

I pulled the shorts on over my legs and tucked the black shirt into the front of my shorts. My pink bra was exposed slightly in the arm holes but I didn’t care. I used my fingers to comb through my hair, just making sure none of it was sticking up anywhere. Then I grabbed a flask of Vodka off of my nightstand and took a swig. Paul’s place was only about a thirty minute walk, a little pre-gaming never hurt anyone.

I grabbed a green and black flannel shirt off of the armchair next to my bed and tucked the flask into the pocket before tying it around my waist. I stepped over piles of dirty laundry as I made my way to the door and slipped on my cherry red Doc Martens while grabbing my cigarettes.

I pushed my door open and let it slam behind me, not bothering to lock it on my way out. I headed in the direction of Paul Bradley’s and lit a cigarette on my way. Without Hannah here to yell at me, I was smoking a lot more than usual.

Every time I inhaled, my nerves eased a little more. I wanted to get out of the house, I desperately wanted to get drunk, but I didn’t love that it involved me seeing everyone from high school again.

It was completely dark now as I strolled down the sidewalk, finishing my cigarette and snuffing it out in someone’s flower pot.

When I arrived to Paul’s apartment complex, the front door was propped open with a brick. I assumed this was to keep someone from buzzing in every two seconds. I could already hear music playing from a couple floors up.

I walked in and up the three flights of stairs. The music grew louder as I approached Paul’s front door, that was sitting cracked open. Smoke poured out into the hall. I let myself in.

I was surprised by how many people were here. It was only nine o’clock, but the room was cluttered with familiar faces and the room temperature was significantly warmer than the hallway.

I shoved my way through sweaty bodies and conversations to get to the kitchen, where Paul had a table full of liquor next to the keg stand. I grabbed a red solo cub and filled it with Malibu and Pineapple juice, but extra heavy on the Rum.

“Meadow,” someone called behind me. I turned to see Paul Bradley himself holding a joint in his right hand. “Wow,” he said when he approached me. “You look like shit.” His eyes were bloodshot and he was already too high to have any sort of filter.

I just shrugged, “I know.” I pulled the joint from Paul’s hand and took a hit before handing it back to him.

Someone called Paul’s name and he was distracted long enough for me to slip away back out of the kitchen with my drink.

I saw Kennedy on a maroon thrift-store couch in the main room. His arm was propped up on the couch cushion and he was taking large gulps of a Coors Light. We made eye contact for a moment. His eyes looked glazed over, already under the influence. I looked away and tried to find somewhere I could just sit and drink, just like Kennedy.

I found and empty corner and leaned against the wall, taking sips of alcohol as I prayed nobody would talk to me. Despite not really wanting to be here, it was still better than being at home. Watching everyone else and eavesdropping on conversations kept my mind from wandering back to Hannah.

“Do you need another one?” Ethan Sheena asked as he came up to me. He wore a pair of cargo shorts and a navy blue Lacrosse T-shirt. Typical jock. His curly brown hair hung around his face.

“Huh?”

“A drink.” He motioned to my empty cup.

“Oh,” I said, not realizing I had managed to finish it off yet. “Sure.”

“What do you want?” He asked, starting to step backwards towards the kitchen.

I shrugged. “Anything.”

I watched as he turned and escaped past the crowd hovered at the kitchen entry way. Ethan Sheena was a player and he never skipped an opportunity to get with me. I told myself after high school I would never sleep with him again, but if he was going to retrieve drinks for me all night I might as well take advantage of that.

“I’m surprised you’re here.” Someone to the left of me asked.

My gaze wandered away from the kitchen and to the left of me where John was now standing. He had his hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. “Yeah,” I said, “I’m surprised you’re here too.” I glanced back at the kitchen, desperate for Ethan to come back with a drink.

John shrugged and motioned to Kennedy on the couch. “Babysitting.”

I noticed he wasn’t drinking anything as my own buzz started coming on. I was envious. How could he get through a party like this sober? How could he get through the day sober?

I wondered why John felt the need to come up to me at all. The last time I saw him I was rejecting thousands of dollars and slamming a door in his face.

“What do you want?” I asked, annoyed he was still standing next to me.

He sighed. “I just want to make sure you’re okay, I guess.”

“Are you?” I looked up at him, completely straight faced. “Are you okay?”

His eyes were sad. He might not have been drinking, but he still looked like he wanted to. “No,” he shook his head. “I’m not.”

Ethan finally appeared with my drink. I took it from him, stacking my empty cup underneath it.

“Great,” I said to John, “Join the club.”

I took Ethan’s arm and brushed past John, leading Ethan to the bedroom. I just wanted to get away from John, from everyone. If Ethan was my excuse to do that, fine.

A pair of people walked out of the room and we entered, shutting the door behind us and finally diminishing all of the party noise. I sighed out of relief and sat at the edge of the bed. I took a gulp of the drink and winced as it burned its way down my throat. Whiskey. I hated whiskey.

“This is disgusting,” I told Ethan, as I took another drink. I untied the flannel from around my waist; it was starting to feel heavy like it was weighing me down.

Ethan took that as an invitation to lean in and try to kiss me.

“No.” I put my hand in front of his face, stopping him. “I’m not nearly drunk enough for that shit.” I didn’t want to sleep with Ethan. I just wanted to escape from my own mind for a little while.

“Okay,” he said annoyed. “We can just hang out.”

I took another drink before setting it on the floor and leaning back onto the bed.

“So, how have you been since Hannah-“

“Stop,” I cut him off. “If you want to hang out, we don’t talk about Hannah.”

Ethan silently agreed before launching into a story about his most recent Lacrosse match. I managed to block him out as I periodically took sips of my beverage. I was still left thinking about Hannah’s death, but as the night went on and the drinks went down, the memory of her got fuzzier. This is what I was looking for.

I made Ethan get up every now and then to fetch me another drink and I continued ignoring him as he talked about things I didn’t care about.

“You look good, you know,” he said, taking his seat next to me after handing me my sixth drink. Or maybe it was the seventh. I wondered if he was lying. Paul had just told me earlier that I looked like shit.

I took a drink but didn’t say anything. Ethan reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of my face. The room spun around me as he took my drink out of hand and put it on the floor next to a stack of empty solo cups that had accumulated. He leaned in and kissed me, this time I didn’t stop him and instead I shut my eyes and kissed him back. His lips were warm but his hands were cool as I felt them slide onto my back underneath my shirt.

I could almost hear Hannah’s voice reprimanding me. “You said you’d never sleep with Ethan Sheena again!. I knew it was just my imagination and with the help of the alcohol I managed to block it out. Besides, it didn’t matter if I slept with him or not. Nothing mattered anymore. There really wasn’t a point to anything. & if slipping into an intoxicated state and sleeping with Ethan Sheena made me forget about my life for 30 seconds, why not?

Ethan leaned over me and pushed me back onto the bed, kissing me harder. Gravity pushed one of his curls into my face as I felt his hands reach for my waistline. Like clockwork the bedroom door swung open and the loud music echoed through the room. Ethan and I both sat up and glanced over at the door, wondering who could be bothering us now of all times.

“Come on, Ethan,” John said, walking into the room. “Get off of her.” His voice sounded annoyed.

I sat up a little bit, leaning back on my elbows. I didn’t know what was going on now, I was confused. “What the fuck?” I questioned.

Ethan stood up, seemingly also confused by what was going on.

“Meadow, get up,” John said, sternly. “I’m taking you home.”

I sat up the rest of the way but didn’t leave my spot on the bed. “No, you’re not,” I said back to him. I felt myself getting angry. Who was he to tell me what to do?

“She doesn’t want to go,” Ethan chimed in. “Just get lost.”

John turned to Ethan, a look of disgust in his face. “Did you know getting someone drunk just to sleep with them is considered rape,” John said. “Do you really want to be known as a rapist, Ethan?”

Ethan took Johns words as a threat and didn’t argue with him. “Whatever.” He got up and left us alone in the room.

Now I was pissed. I was finally starting to feel better. “Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I slurred.

John shook his head. “I’m not leaving this party without you.”