Chapter 12
A one-way ticket on the hot mess express
Amelia
Watching the luggage carousel while half drunk is amusing and slightly nauseating, but I can’t look away.
I hit the first open bar I could find in the airport before boarding the plane in New York and have been sipping on vodka cranberries ever since.
Fourteen hours and three layovers later, I realize I probably should have eaten more than a bag of gummy worms. I feel like shit on top of already feeling like shit.
Drinking with a freshly broken heart is a bad idea.
My bags haven’t shown up yet, and I make sure I’m at the right place for the fourth or ninth time before pulling out my phone to call Bean.
She called me earlier when I would have been on my lunch break at work, but I was somewhere over Missouri at the time.
Or maybe it was Michigan. Could have been Montana.
Why are there so many states that start with the letter M?
Oh, wait! It was Mississississppiiii. Missippi. Mississipipi. Fuck.
“Minnie, I was starting to get worried! Are you okay?” Bean asks.
“I’m fine. I’m good. I’m good. Good gooooood.” I carefully enunciate every word.
“Are you drunk?” She sounds amused. It would be amusing if it weren’t so fucking depressing.
“No. Um, rude.” Okay, I’m more drunk than I thought I was.
“Ha! You are! I love Drunk Minnie!”
“Not me. She got me into thismess in the first place. She applied for that job and now I needa ride.” My words definitely have a bit of a slur to them.
“Do you want me to log into your account and order you an Uber?”
“No no no, Bean. I need you to come pick meup,” I say, trying not to run my words together.
She laughs. “How drunk are you? I can’t pick you up. You’re in New York.”
“Nope, wrong. I am home. Almost home. I’m atthe airport. Come getme, please.” I close my eyes and lean against a pillar. “I need you, Bean,” I mumble into the phone.
“Shit, Min, what happened? Never mind, you can tell me in person. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Where are you?”
“Baggage claim.” I open my eyes, but they take a few seconds to focus. “Um, number three. Oohhhh, there’s oneofmybags. You’re coming, right, Bean?”
“Getting in the car now. Get your bags and sit down. Stay there, Minnie. Don’t drink anything more unless it’s water or coffee.”
“K. Mwah.” I make a kissy noise and hang up before stumbling over to the first of my bags.
I checked three, so I sit on the first one like it’s a chair and watch for the others while sipping the drink I ordered when I got off the plane.
I won’t buy another one, but I can’t let this one go to waste.
When I finally have all my bags, I drag them over to a bench and wait.
If there’s no traffic, it’s about a thirty-minute drive from our little town of Cottonwood Creek, Washington, to the Portland airport, but it doesn’t take much to turn it into a forty or sixty, or million-minute drive.
I usually check the map app, but I don’t want to look at my phone.
Every time I do, the little red bubbles showing a voicemail I haven’t listened to and messages I haven’t read taunt me.
I’m afraid to open my email. Shit, I should probably do it so I can block him there, too.
And how long will it be before I’m dodging Katie?
My life got messy fast.
Stupid Alex.
I hate him.
And I hate that I hate him. Tears start falling again, and I can’t do anything to stop them.
“Oh, Minnie,” Bean says, kneeling in front of me.
She cups my cheeks in her hands and wipes my tears away with her thumbs.
I lean forward, letting my forehead crash onto her shoulder, and her arms go around me.
Safe, I let myself break, and she holds me while I sob all over her.
I don’t know how long it takes before my tears dry up, but she doesn’t complain because she’s the best friend a girl could have.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur.
“Nothing to be sorry about. You think you’re ready to get out of here? We don’t have to go home, just to the car.”
“Mayyybe wecan go get fries or tacos? I’m starving.”
Bean chuckles. “Of course we can get fries or tacos. And at some point, you can tell me what’s going on.
It must be bad. You smell like vodka and cranberry juice, and you only drink that swill when you’re depressed.
” She stands up, groaning from being stuck in the same position for who knows how long, and stretches out her back before grabbing one of my bags.
“You know I don’t stay on my knees that long for just anyone. ”
“I should fuckinghope not.”
“You remembered your bridesmaid dress and shoes, right?”
“Wedding stuff isin that one,” I say, pointing to a bag. “It was the first stuff I packed, and I kept it with me instead of checking it justincase,” I sing-song proudly.
“Smart girl, must not have been drunk yet.” She starts walking toward the door, and I follow her, albeit a lot less gracefully.
“Oh, I was on my way to drunk. But I madesure to pack the important stuff first. Except my comb. Shit, I forgot my comb.” I stop and drop my head back. “It’s the best comb, with big, wide teeth, Bean.”
“So we’ll get you a new one.”
“Yeah, okay.” I puff out my breath loudly and start moving again.
We load my bags in the trunk and get in the car. Bean looks at me, concern showing on her face.
“Can weget deep-fried appetizers from Mickey’s?” I ask, breaking our silence after a few minutes. She raises an eyebrow in response, and I sigh. “I’m not ready to talk about it. Just…last night, I had thebest sex of my life and my heart broken. In that order.”
Bean cringes. “The guy from work you’ve been in love with for a year?”
I nod.
“Deep-fried appetizers it is.”
She pulls out of the parking garage and drives to Mickey’s Bar and Grill. We can always count on our favorite local place for greasy food, strong drinks, and friendly smiles.
Dolly greets us with a wide grin as we shuffle through the door. “Welcome in—Minnie! What are you doing here already?”
“I’m here forthefood,” I declare.
“Mmmhmmm.” Dolly puts her hands on her hips and furrows her brow before shaking her head, sending her white hair bouncing. “Go sit your ass down before you fall over.”
Bean steers me toward a booth. “Can we get some fried stuff A-sap please, Dolly?”
“And some margaritas?” I add.
Dolly laughs as she walks past us to the kitchen. “Oh, that’s not happening.”
“Figures,” I mutter, dropping onto the vinyl-covered bench with a thud.
“Don’t make me text your mother, Minnie Sinclair,” she calls out over her shoulder. Bean and I look at each other, eyes wide, and burst into giggles. Dolly has known us forever and has indeed texted my mother more than once about us being brats or needing a ride home.
Like the best friend that she is, Bean lets me talk about everything except why I’m home now instead of in a week.
She won’t try to drag the story out of me for a few days, but if I don’t talk soon, all bets are off.
She’ll go mama bear on me, demanding to know who hurt me, and then start making plans for revenge.
I love her for that. I’m the same way with her.
I put dead fish in the trunk of Bobby Miller’s car after he cheated on her.
I hid those stinky things everywhere, too.
He was finding them for weeks. It was glorious.
“Ugh, I should let Momknow I’m home so no one freaks out when I try to sneak in but end up making a shit ton of noise because I’m toooooo drunk to be quiet,” I say, my forehead on the table. I wish I had room in my stomach for the last mozzarella stick.
“I called her when I was on my way to pick you up.”
“Thanks, Bean.” I place my hand on the table, and she covers it with hers.
“You’re my best friend, Min. I got you.”
It’s late when she helps me get upstairs to my room.
We don’t bother bringing my bags in. They can stay in the car until morning since it’s right next door.
I should shower after all the booze and recycled air, but that can wait until morning, too.
I toss my shoes, pants, and bra in the corner and crawl under the covers.
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” Bean tells me as she tucks me into bed.
“Okay.” I close my eyes and sigh heavily. “I love him, Bean. I love the stupid jerk.”
“I know. Sounds like maybe he doesn’t deserve it, though.”
“Maybe not,” I whisper, sleep closing in as Bean shuts my door.