37. Bailey
thirty-seven
Bailey
My ass is dragging. My brain, mush. Ten hours of lecture every week has been more than this small cerebellum can handle.
Go to pharmacy school, they said. It will be fun, they said.
This semester has been fucking insane. I don’t think I’ve done anything but study, sleep, eat, and maybe jerk off here and there for sanity’s sake.
Nat has been busy as all hell with medical school, and when Liam texted me from his school library I knew shit was rough for him too.
That guy hasn’t studied a day in his life.
I laugh at the thought of him trying to figure out how to struggle like the rest of us.
Welcome to Earth, bestie. Where normal people don’t learn through osmosis.
“Hey Master Beto,” I sing to the tune of “Hey Macarena” as I enter the small living room. He’s still right-side up and happy as a clam.
I bought him an actual tank, and added a few live plants and a filtering device. I considered adding another fish or two but decided against it. I feel like he enjoys being an only child and who am I to upset his vibe?
I went down a rabbit hole one night reading about goldfish. I found no evidence that suggests their lifespans are affected by other fish, further confirming I made the right call. You’re welcome, little guy.
My phone rings, the ringtone for Mom whirring loudly. “Hey Mom,” I say.
“How are you? How’s school? Are you studying?” she exclaims.
“Good. I’m good and school is fine and yes I’ve been studying. And before you ask, no, I haven’t been drinking.” So that’s not entirely true but it’s fine. Don’t want her to worry. I’ve definitely not been fantasizing about another guy’s dick inside me, Mom. That would be crazy.
I clear my throat and try to clear all thoughts of him from my mind.
“Well that’s wonderful to hear, sweetie. How are Liam and Nat? Are they hanging in there? I know medical school must be exhausting! I wish her mother was more supportive, but here we are,” she sighs. “Your Dad is doing better, he went fishing with Jake and David last weekend.”
I fight the lump that forms in my throat, remembering the morning Jake saw us. The look of disgust on his face. The fear I felt.
That was the night everything changed.
I force a smile, “Yes, Nat’s doing great and I have plans with both her and Liam this weekend so ask me again next week.” My rapid-fire words increase in speed as I rush to get off the call. “Tell Dad I’m glad he’s better—and tell him I love him,” I add.
“Oh good! Please give them my love and give Nat a hug from her other mother! I pray for all three of you every day. I love you, Bailey.”
“Okay. I will. I love you too, Mom. Bye.” I end the call and take a breath. Lord have mercy. I love my mother, but I don’t always have thirty minutes to answer her damn questions. God bless it.
You’d think I was studying abroad and not thirty minutes away.
A smile sneaks its way across my face as I think about my parents.
I miss them, I really do. They’ve always been supportive and encouraging.
Everything a kid could ever need, they provided.
They aren’t wealthy by any means, but I never knew we were any different from the other kids until I was older.
Summers spent on the lake in my dad’s old bass boat and camper. Countless nights spent on the baseball fields and weekends at basketball games. They were always there for me, never too busy for family.
They became like second parents to Nat and Liam over the years with Liam’s wealthy parents always gone for months at a time and Nat’s mom in and out of rehab. Absent even when present.
I didn’t realize that we were the rich ones. Rich in time, in memories, in love. Rich in acceptance and encouragement. Wealthy in all the ways that truly matter.
My thoughts only solidify my resolve, reinforcing the fact that he and I could never work. It would be too hard on my dad—his heart can’t take it. Literally—and my sweet mom would want so badly for him to be accepting that it would cause a Bailey-sized rift between them.
My chest aches at the thought.
I could never.
I won’t.
I stumble through my shower and flop onto my bed, hair still wet and no fucks to give. I am dead. So tired I can literally hear the blood pumping through my arteries. I’ll text Nat and Liam tomorrow and we’ll figure out the plan because tonight…
Oh my god, gross.
I passed out on top of my comforter and my pillow is soaking wet with drool–I might vomit.
Jesus, dude.
I throw the pillow onto the floor in disgust and wipe my face with my forearm. What time is it?
“Hey Siri, what time is it?”
Nothing.
“Hey Siri.”
Still nothing.
“Siri, what the fuck?” I groan as I roll over to grab my nearly dead phone from the bedside table. Apparently I didn’t bother to plug it in last night before I went to drool-town. Seven percent. Fantastic. It’s ten now and I’m surprised to not see any messages from Nat or Liam.
I lay back down and close my eyes, already dreading whatever insane shit they’re dragging me into tonight.
We haven’t seen each other in weeks, and Liam hasn’t stopped going on about some girl from school he needs me to meet.
It’s pointless, really. I haven’t been even remotely interested in anyone since Lolly.
Sex? Of course I’ve had it. But it never scratched the itch. Just left me wanting more. Wanting him.
Fucking Liam. Why do I get the idea he’s trying to pawn me off? What did I do to deserve this? She’s probably insufferable. There has to be a catch.
He lost a dare.
He owes her money.
He gave her best friend an STI and now he owes her a solid.
Seriously there’s no fucking telling why he’s been so adamant about this but it has been nonstop for months now. Nat got so sick of hearing about it that she’s actually team Liam now.
“Bailey, just get it over with. Meet her. Worst case scenario, you hate her and can tell Liam you were right all along. Seriously, Bays, how bad could she possibly be?” she had said.
“Besides, it might help you get over him, babe. It couldn’t hurt to try.
” I remember thinking that it could hurt to try.
Knowing damn well that every time I’ve tried to forget him, I was just reminded of how much better things were with him.
I sigh, shoulders dropping. I should have known she’d break eventually. Liam is so damn persistent.
Even now, ass-deep in law school, he finds the time to try and play matchmaker. And for what? I haven’t complained once about being single. Quite the opposite, actually.
Random hook-ups every now and again have been enough to get me through. Why would I want to risk upsetting mine and Master Beto’s vibes? We are perfectly fine in our bachelor pad just minding our own business.
Besides, it’s never enough. Their cheeks are too smooth against my face—mouths too pliable, hands too dainty.
They’re never right.
Never him.
I push thoughts of him away, determined to leave them there.
Liam is notorious for putting his nose where it doesn’t belong.
He’ll probably still be this way when we’re sharing a room in the nursing home.
The East Wing gossip, always teasing me about Susan and Rachel down the hall.
Regularly getting in trouble for having all the single women in and out of the room at all hours of the night.
Constantly requesting his as-needed Viagra from the overnight nurses.
That’s going to be his legacy, I can feel it.
My phone interrupts my nursing home musings when it dings with a text notification.
Liam: Change of plans. Wear something decent. Nat and I will swing by at 7. NO VANS BAILEY I FUCKING MEAN IT! Oh, and be nice to Peyton and don’t drink too much. Smile, Bays. It’s just one night ??
“Cheese and crackers mother of shit,” I huff. What is he up to? Nat must be in on this. She absolutely has to have signed off on his bullshit. I’ve no doubt they’re both in on this. Traitor.
I glance at the time again, wondering how much longer I can dick around the apartment before I have to get ready.
I was only half listening the other day when Liam was explaining who would be at this thing.
Hell, I don’t even know where we’re going.
I’m sure he mentioned it more than once but I have been so inundated with study material that unless he was speaking in cell biology or genetics, I likely didn’t even register it as English.
I have but one small brain and within it there is limited space. I have to be careful or I’ll lose the important information making space for frivolous shit, like whoever this girl is he’s been droning on about. Something about his friend’s friend. It doesn’t really matter at this point.
I throw myself onto the couch and grab the remote and the Xbox controller. Where the hell is my headset? My apartment is clean, but I could make a mess in a matter of seconds. No idea where the messy side of me originated but it’s nearly impossible to fix. No cure in sight.
I log on and decide that since I have made such a tremendous sacrifice agreeing to go out with Nat and Liam, I deserve at least a few hours of game play.
Maybe even a pizza and a beer? Two beers.
Who knows? Might even order a hooker. Nope.
We just looked at gonorrhea under a microscope, and I will pass on that. “Hey Siri, set an alarm for 6pm.”
What exactly did Liam mean by something decent? I’m in my best dark denim jeans. No holes, of course. Flipping through my shirts and the select few t-shirts I’ve deemed worthy of hangers, I find myself annoyed with my wardrobe—or lack thereof.
Black. So much black and dark grey and very few “decent” options.