CHAPTER NINE
Drinks & Wedding Bells
SERENITY
I slide across the smooth red booth until I reach the back. I’m relieved I thought ahead and remembered to wear my sitting jeans. The dark blue material is paired with a black tank top that shows almost a little too much boob, topped with my black puffer jacket.
I’m fifteen minutes late compared to the agreed group text. Somehow, I’m still here before anyone. Jimena, Maggie, and Maggie’s wife are nowhere in sight. Knowing them, they’re still at home getting dressed.
Jimena and I usually grab drinks when we both have a day off. As an ER nurse, my time outside in regular society is limited. Jimena may work the same job as me, but her energy is nothing short of extroverted. She has no issue dragging me out to public places whenever she can.
Just a few days back, Jimena and Maggie discovered they both had Friday off. I almost broke my phone as it loaded my schedule. Then I saw, by some phenomenon, I was also free on Friday. I swung my hands into the air so fast that I ended up hitting Jimena in the nose.
I needed a day like this. Even when I have a couple hours to relax, I’m still spinning in my life’s problems and drama I didn’t ask for. With Maggie and Jimena joining me to bicker and drink tonight, I might just escape my life.
I reach to my side and dig my phone out of my purse. Neither Maggie nor Jimena have texted the group chat, but I have a notification from Brooks.
Brooks: Hey. Lake is having a rough day, and he turned on 10 Things I Hate About You. Wtf did you do to him?
Me: LMAO. He secretly likes them. (Don’t tell him I said that.)
Brooks: Np. I’ll tell him you said hi.
Me: Thanks!
I don’t know if I should scold Lake for watching a rom-com without me or clap that he’s watching one at all. I can’t stop grinning, so clapping seems fitting. I watch rom-coms with Lake to distract him. It’s something I did with Delilah, only it wasn’t a loveable rom-com. She’d insist on blasting a draining reality show. At some point, sitting and watching TV with her stopped working.
I’m not sure why I’m trying it with Lake. Part of me just likes being around him, seeing him healing, and helping him where it’s necessary.
I swipe my thumb across my lips and set my phone on the table. I’m glad he’s okay with me being in his space and I hope having me around is actually helpful.
Jimena sways into my line of sight. Our eyes lock, and she throws her hands up and twirls towards the booth. “Hi Serenity!” she squeals.
Her hips shift from side to side, doing a shimmy to show off her coordinated outfit. She’s in a flaming red dress that cuts off mid-thigh. Her straightened hair is draping down to her butt. Different spots of her body glimmer from gold jewelry. She has gold rings gripping around her fingers, dangling bracelets, and matching gold hoops in her ears.
“Why do you always need to one-up me?” I groan.
She scoots in next to me, dragging her Gucci bag off of her shoulder. We have the same salary. I have zero clue how she’s strapped up with a Gucci bag.
“Serenity, handsome men never flirt with me. You’ve already been flirted with.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Nobody’s been flirting with me. Everyone gawked at you as you strutted over here.”
She points her long, red, press-on nail at me. Gucci bag at her side, and somehow she also finds the time to glue fake nails to her fingers the moment the ER rules don’t restrict her. She’ll pop them off before work tomorrow. “Then why are you blushing?”
I slap my hand on my cheek, feeling the warmth radiating into my fingers. “It’s freezing outside?” I say that like a question.
She smirks. “Sure. Maybe it has something to do with your upstairs boyfriend.”
My eyes widen. “What are you talking about?”
Her head rears in my direction, and she drops her shoulders, huffing through her nose. “Do not pretend you’re not crushing on the John Doe. You’re upstairs every day.”
I can feel my red cheeks only getting hotter.
There’s no denying what she’s saying. I paid little attention to Lake’s appearance when I was busy bruising his ribs, but now, he’s hard not to drool over. I felt drawn to his big brown eyes during our first conversation. I ignored it. My focus has been on helping him, but each day he wakes up and speaks to me in that husky tone. The honey in his eyes brings me comfort. Plus, all the time we spend together.
My want to help Lake Phoenix is tainted by my desire to be near him. I can admit it, just not verbally. I can also admit that attraction means nothing. Lake and I are friends. Just friends.
Jimena chuckles. “Feeling nervous, are you?”
Thankfully, I don’t need to answer. Maggie walks up to the booth with her arm around her wife, Sandra.
Sandra’s wearing bright orange jeans and a long-sleeve black top. Maggie’s outfit comprises black dress pants and a black top with orange flowers dotting the light fabric. The few times I’ve met Sandra, she and Maggie are always matching in some way.
“Busy bar tonight!” Maggie says, slipping in to the other side of the booth. The bar’s thinned rectangle is packed to the brim with people. I’m surprised I found my way to an empty booth.
Jimena claps her nails against her palms. “Gracias a Dios, you guys are here. I have so much to spill.” Her smile is huge and devious.
Maggie shakes her head. “We need a round of drinks before you open that mouth of yours.”
Sandra and I roll our eyes. Maggie raises a hand to wave over one of the waiters. Then, she grabs a drink menu, looking for the specials.
***
“I was married to that man for twenty years!” Maggie shouts. She tips her glass. Some of the wine inside drips onto the table. We raise our colorful drinks and clank them with hers.
“Thank God he’s asexual.”
It’s moments like these that I’m most alive. When I realize paradise doesn’t require a crystal blue-watered beach and an expensive drink. My paradise is the times where the world dies out and I’m laughing with my closest friends, or when the season transitions from winter to spring. I rarely feel in control, so these tiny moments of clarity that my existence is truly mine, that’s when I flourish back to life.
Lately, I have no control. So as our glasses tip to our mouths, and the chilling liquid flows down my throat, I let out a calm breath of thankfulness. Thankful because I’ve had two of these moments this week. Right now, as Maggie pecks Sandra on the cheek and Jimena groans over her delicious drink. Then the second moment, when I was alone with Lake in his hospital room. The heat from his lips brushing onto my ear as he tore the movie on screen to shreds.
“No, thank God you divorced him!” Sandra squeaks.
Maggie and Sandra met at church ten years ago. At the time, Maggie’s recent ex-husband was making things awkward at church. She started turning her car around every Sunday and heading to a new location. That’s where Sandra beamed her way into Maggie’s heart.
When I first met Maggie, I was surprised to find out she had a younger wife. There’s an eight-year gap between the lovebirds. But, as lovebirds do, they click. The only fights they have are about outfit coordination and various wine preferences. For the most part, they’re just two ladies. Happy to be happy, with no desire for bullshit.
Jimena slouches downward, huffing through her nose. I give her a look, a tiny flick of my eyebrow. She never shows physical discomfort unless something’s wrong.
“It’s my ex.” She struggles to hold her nervous smile.
I swing my head. “If you answer him, I will rip that hoop out of your ear.”
Her hand flies over the ear closest for me to grab. “Ouch. I wasn’t going to answer, anyway.” She leaves him on read, dropping her phone on the glossy wood table.
Sandra tilts her head. “Why the threat?”
Her interest in Jimena’s ex is sliced in half. She has an arm draped across Maggie’s shoulder. Her head resting on the opposite shoulder. Sandra’s eyes aren’t even looking in mine and Jimena’s direction. Instead, she’s lovingly watching her wife sip her wine.
“He’s like—” Jimena shrugs. “Serenity doesn’t like him.”
I scoff. “Of course I don’t like him. He’s toxic.” I fold my arms together. “Toxic enough to make you cry.”
The wives gasp. Maggie stops kissing her glass and Sandra’s interest reaches a new peak.
“You? Cry?” Maggie repeats.
“He threw out my Prada sunglasses.” She drops her upper body over the table, letting out another groan. I catch her drink before it spills.
Sandra taps the wood. “Oh, hell no! Block him!”
“I would, but he keeps sending me money.” I barely hear her as someone shouts across the bar.
“It was easier in my day. Turn sixteen, find a gentleman, get married the week after.” Maggie looks to the ceiling, reminiscing.
Jimena’s voice muffles against the table. “Yeah. That worked out so well for you, didn’t it, Mag?”
Maggie lets out another gasp. “Cut the attitude, missy. I am older than your mother!”
I can’t help chuckling at my best friend getting into trouble. To which she rolls around and glares at me through miniature slits.
“Now excuse me, I need to use the bathroom,” Maggie announces. She grabs onto Sandra and hauls her away.
Jimena rises upright, only to slump back against the seat. She’s on her third drink. Her eyes are already squinting and watery. I’ll need to ensure Lightweight has a safe ride home, and that it has nothing to do with a sleazy ex named Derek.
Jimena knows her worth. She’s never caught dead talking about an ex unless she’s drunk—or he is actually sending her money.
“Why don’t they just say they’re gonna go screw in the bathroom?” she slurs.
“Ew. Because they’re not?” I reach for my dazzling phone case shining from the overhead lights. I haven’t checked my messages since Jimena showed up.
“They totally are.”
I go to give Jimena a response, but a bowling ball crashes into my stomach and pulls my organs down. Deep down. My eyes snap back and forth between the notifications, reading it over and over.
I love technology for keeping everything in one small square, but I hate it for constantly and consistently ruining my day. Everything is digital. My unpaid late bills and notices. Updates I’m starting to consider threats, and classically, unanswered voicemails.
Jimena, half conscious, still notices the change in my face. “Is something wrong?”
I swipe the notification away before she sees.
She means a lot to me. I know I mean so much to her, but that’s why I can’t let her know my burdens. Nobody should walk to the end of the earth for me and my personal problems.
“Yeah, I forgot to cancel a subscription.” I lie through my smile.
She grunts and shuts her eyes, choosing not to press me. I pick up my drink and let the liquid smooth down my throat. Then, with nothing else to do, I bring my attention back to my phone. The absence of the notification continues to haunt me.
It’s a reminder of the things I’m behind on, and the lack of power my body holds to keep pushing forward.
A string of texts from Brooks pulls me out of my thoughts, but that big bowling ball grows. It grows and grows.
Oh.
Lake: It’s Lake. I stole Brooks’ phone.
Lake: Movie is stupid. The sister is like twelve. Also saw your text earlier. Hate rom-coms.
Maggie and Sandra return, gliding back into the booth in front of me. Maggie reaches over the table and pokes at Jimena, dragging her into a conversation about a patient they had helped together earlier this week. I tune them out, drifting deeper into the booth as I read Lake’s thread of texts.
Lake: The dad is a total creep lol.
Lake: Heath Ledger ????
Lake: Gross. Ignore that. Never used an emoji before. Any reason why Brooks’ recent emojis have an eggplant and squirting water?
Lake: Joey sucks. You better not like this guy.
I smile, scrolling through the rest of the texts until I find the part where he watches Kat’s poem.
Lake: waawaa. “I don’t hate you. Not even a little bit. Not even at all.” You should. Slash his tires. Stick a razor up his butt.
Lake: Horrible taste Angel.
Lake: More important news. Brooks is passed out.
He sends a picture of Brooks, bending forward in the hospital chair. He’s moments away from falling out of it.
Me: Brooks doesn’t get to sleep on your bed? I’m getting the princess treatment.
Lake: Brooks smells bad.
Me: Does that mean I smell good?
Lake: No. Thanks for the cable. Don’t buy it again.
Me: I’ll make sure to during my shift tomorrow.
Lake: Don’t like you Angel. Not a bit. Not at all.
Me: Touching.
I flip my phone upside down on the table and slug back more alcohol.
“No! He was wearing a wig, I swear to you!” Jimena proclaims. Her wrists clap onto the table.
Maggie bursts out laughing, shaking her head over and over. They debate if the patient was wearing a wig, and if his teeth were fake. I try to listen in, but the looming anxiety continues to creep up the back of my arms. It takes a hold of me, stopping my friends bickering from distracting me.
So I order another drink. I rarely drink, but a pending voicemail of doom can make me a drunk.
I wish it was just simple bills. Like a rich man threatening to shut off my lights if I don’t pay in twenty-four hours. I want all my worries to be that, but it encompasses much more. A much finer line, thinner thread. Sometimes it’s not the money I worry about. Those are only half the notifications I dread receiving.
The other half consists of new pieces of information, evidence, piling up against me. All of it threatens my life. It would change forever, and that terrifies me. I don’t even know who I am, and there’s a chance I never will.
If he’s contacting me again, something must be wrong. My lawyer never He never leaves a voicemail when things go right.
***
My eyes shoot open and I swallow a little gasp. The brightness of the sun makes my ears ring and worsens my headache. I bring a palm to my pounding head, smoothing my fingers on my temples. Unlatching my eyes again, I realize half of my body is dangling off of my mattress. My legs are stuck in memory foam, and blood rushes to my swinging head.
I grab my phone from the ground, running my thumb across a new crack in my screen. It travels from one corner to the next. Then, half asleep and hungover, I stupidly open the voicemail my lawyer left the night before. A simple voicemail that I don’t know the contents is the reason I feel all out of sorts.
“Let’s see if I’m being arrested yet.” I grimace.
“Serenity. Your payment never came through. I need that money A-S-A-P. I have other willing clients who pay me on time. Call me.”
Crap. Oh crap.
It’s nothing about more evidence. My payment to him didn’t go through. My fingers race to open my bank app. The rest of my body falls onto the floor when I see what came out of my account.
Technically, I didn’t lie to my best friend. I did forget to cancel a subscription, leaving me sixty dollars short. That shouldn’t be a big deal, but my pounding heart knows I don’t have a single extra cent to my name. I also know putting up with these payments is getting too heavy to carry. It started with me struggling to swim, now I’m drowning.
With my thoughts still a blur, I dial my lawyer. “Hey—”
“Serenity. I need my money. I’m not a damn non-profit for your charity case.”
Ugh. This man is a douchebag.
“I know. I’m not sure why the payment didn’t go through,” I lie. “Something must’ve come out of my account. I’ll get the money to you as soon as—”
He cuts me off again. “Listen. I’m a highly wanted lawyer. There are other clients that’ll pay me. I don’t care if you’re guilty or not. I don’t care that your sister overdosed and tossed you into her mess.”
My head throbs at the loudness in his voice, and my eyes flood at his words.
“My firm offers a two-week grace period. Get me my money by then, or find yourself a different lawyer.”
He hangs up without another word.
The headache and the begging of my bones to rest isn’t enough. I get to my feet, brushing tears off of my cheeks.
I’d hire a non-rude lawyer, but Tommy Cooper is a talented lawyer. Not many lawyers are willing or skilled enough to handle my case and ensure I’m free from an orange jumpsuit.
I try to call Jimena. For the first ten rings, I question how I’m going to ask her for her money. Do I tell her a half-truth? A random yearly subscription I forgot to cancel just renewed. I can’t pay a bill? Do I want to continue lying? Keep all of this a secret?
I dial her number another time. My finger lingers above the red button, and with a moment to think, I cancel the call. I don’t want her involved. She was an international student in college. She’s struggling to pay off her student loans. Her shopping addiction isn’t helping her.
Plus, she’s hungover. She’s either sleeping or throwing up. Whatever it is, I should leave her alone.
I’m lost on where to go or who to call. I could show up on my parents’ doorstep, get on my knees, and beg for their help, but I’d be begging myself into the ground. Maybe I should go to Maggie’s. Maggie would help me in a heartbeat, but Maggie has her own problems. I don’t wish to take anything from her.
Who am I kidding? I would never tell Maggie about my situation, either. She’s still paying off her mortgage on her old home she shared with her ex-husband. She’s trying to save for a trip to Jamaica this spring with Sandra.
There’s only one person I can confide in about this.
***
The chilly hospital air doesn’t hit my skin until I barge into Lake’s room.
“Lake.” I run my fingers through my hair, dropping my bag at the end of his bed on the floor. “Phoenix. I screwed up. I don’t have enough money to pay off my—” I shake my head. “My bills.”
There’s a shuffle in front of me, and another to my right. Brooks and Lake exchange a glance, causing Brooks to rise from his chair and swift past me. He doesn’t say a word. A mere glance and he heads for the exit.
“I know your money issues are worse than you let on, Angel.” Lake tugs at his gray t-shirt. His eyes explore the room before deciding to stay on me.
The door clicks shut, leaving Lake and I. “I’m sorry Lake, I know you can’t help, but I had no one else to talk to.”
He sits up higher. “Glad you came to me, Angel.”
The only place I can get money from is my parents. My mother was a nurse herself, and my father was successful everywhere he went. They did well for themselves, invested and saved. Before Delilah died, they would’ve been okay with helping me.
“I don’t know what to do.” I roll my neck, blinking at the speckled ceiling.
I’m nothing like Delilah. Our parents crushed both of us with expectations. It overwhelmed her mind. Somehow, her downfall tossed even more expectations onto me. So I got straight A’s all throughout high school, and I became a nurse. I worked my butt off to protect my parents’ ego, but it wasn’t enough. Sometimes it seems nothing I do will ever be enough.
“Angel,” Lake calls out.
It’s laughable how insane all of this is. I look forward, tears filling my vision. They break like a dam and roll down my cheeks. I try to focus on those pretty brown eyes staring back at me. He’s still plucking at his t-shirt, his legs dangling off the side of the bed.
“Don’t cry, Angel.”
But those salty little droplets keep falling. They escape into the corner of my lips or drip onto my hands. My palms squeeze the plastic at the bottom of the bed. “I don’t know what to do. I’m so, so screwed.”
Not paying my lawyer is the last tick of the clock for me. That newspaper will multiply. Only my name will shout back at me. Then I’ll find myself without a job and locked in a cell. All because Delilah messed with me one last time.
I don’t want to be a bigger failure. How could I have forgotten my payment?
The room spins and my thoughts swirl along with it. Usually, I think of something last minute. Like when I sold my car, started cutting out coupons, and picked up more shifts.
I think I’m at my end this time. There’s nothing I can do.
“What bills Angel? We’ll figure it out.” His voice is calming. It’s no longer as distant as it felt when I first met Lake.
But it’s not enough to stop me from panicking. I scratch my neck, thinking through every idea. There is nothing.
“Alright. You need to sit down.” Lake hops off of his mattress and ends with his hands firm on my arms. He nudges me back into the empty space.
“Listen,” Lake sighs. “I can help.”
I peer up at his face, noticing his unsettling expression. His lips tugged into a frown, a crinkle in the skin between his eyebrows, and the worry in his eyes. How long has he looked like this?
“No, Lake. I’m sorry I’m not trying to ask for your help. I know you can’t. You’re just the only person I can talk to.”
He lightly shakes his head. “That’s not true.”
“What isn’t?”
He sighs again, taking his time before deciding to speak.
“Brooks is loaded. He made a promise to my sister before she died that he’d cut me off. Unless I proved I was gonna get sober.”
“Sister?” I repeat.
Lake doesn’t answer me. “So I got screwed, too. Money wise. We’re much more similar than you think, Angel.”
Oh. He has no idea.
“Anyway. Needed Brooks’ help. I couldn’t get it until he came up with a workaround to our sister’s promise.”
Another stressed hand runs across my scalp. I think I’m losing my mind. I laugh more through my tears. “What are you talking about?”
“Listen.” He squeezes my shoulders. “Brooks knows you’re in trouble. Your insurance would cover some of my rehab crap. He’d cover the rest and give me money to handle this bullshit for you.”
Again, I narrow in on Lake, but we freeze in place. Half of the world is colored, the rest remains dim. As if we’re in an unfinished painting. Our lungs are yet to be drawn.
“What are you saying, Lake?”
He tucks in his bottom lip. Then he leans forward, leveling our eyes as best he can. “You can marry me, Angel.”
“Phoenix. Stop playing with me.” I slump my shoulders.
I stand there for a moment, trying to figure out if he’s joking. He doesn’t look uncertain, but he’s a stranger. I’m a stranger.
His waves shake along with his head. His hands leave my shoulders. My shoulder chills, but I’m quickly relit when his big palms cup my jawline and cheeks.
“Not playing, Angel.” He gives me a weak, faltering smile. “Marry me.”
I stare at him for a long beat. Is my hangover making me imagine things? Is that possible? Lake keeps his hands on my face, and I know from the sternness and worry mixed on his features, he’s being serious. He wants me to marry him.
For a split second, I forget about whatever I was crying over. “Can you go to rehab if I do this? Will you be able to afford it?”
He huffs. “It’s my only way.”
Is that why Brooks was so adamant about knowing my financial situation? Was Lake that worried about me? Or was it just Brooks finding a solution to his biggest problem?
I have so many questions. Concerns. I’ll be committing fraud if I do this. Lake and I should do everything to avoid trouble with the law. Risky is an understatement.
Do I have a choice?
I could help him.
“I mean, this idea is crazy.” I search for an excuse. “We’d need a witness.”
“You two make such a lovely couple!”
My heart shoots out of my chest, and I turn to the side. Brooks brings a coffee cup to his lips, shrugging his shoulders. A grin sprawled across his face.
“There’s our witness,” Lake grumbles.
I turn back to the sound of Lake’s voice. Once again, all we seem capable of doing is staring at one another. Mixing the colors of our eyes together until all we see is forest. As if another word will sink us, leaving us gasping for air.
Lake Phoenix, my patient, whose life I tried so desperately to save, he still needs me, but I need him more. I saved his life, and now he wants to save mine.
But I’m standing still, unable to speak, as I wait for this moment to finish painting. With a billion worries stabbing me in the harshest places, all I do is stare.