Chapter 9
Aliena
I felt like an idiot when I woke up at the hospital. I felt even more so when the doctor gave me a quick sum-up about how I was brought here because I passed out after I couldn’t handle all the adrenaline that flooded my body after the attack. Or something like that.
But what made me feel most like a fucking fool was the disappointment that flooded me when I opened my eyes and was met with the sight of Lily, and when it was her scent that invaded my nostrils as she hugged me tightly, not Sebastian’s. More than that, I started feeling guilty as soon as I identified the emotion.
There was my lovely best friend telling me how glad she is that I’m awake and well, and how she can’t believe that I was attacked, and I was feeling upset that Sebastian didn’t stick around rather than be grateful for what I had. It’s moments like that when I feel like the little selfish girl I used to be. I hate myself in such moments but maybe there are just traits about me that I cannot lose, no matter how hard I try.
“When Seb called me, I didn’t want to believe him. I was asleep when the phone went off and didn’t hear a word for the first two minutes he spoke. Then he said you were at the hospital, and I thought he was joking.
I woke Andrew and forced him to give me a ride. He wanted to stay and wait with me, but I sent him home again. Figured you didn’t want a bigger audience, right? I’m sure he won’t mind picking us up as soon as you’re ready to go, though,” she told me, practically rapping the words in a nervous beat.
Then she forced me to tell her what the hell happened to me and why I had called Sebastian instead of her. I did my best to catch her up, but my memories were jumbled and my thoughts scattered.
That’s when the doctor came in to brief me about my condition and basically tell me I was in perfect health other than my split lip. Of course, he gave me the whole lecture about how I should go to the police once I’m out of the hospital and that I should be careful, and something about having gotten lucky.
And lucky is what I felt when I went to the receptionist after being released to ask for the bill only to have her tell me it was already paid for. Since Lily swore it wasn’t her, it only leaves one person that could have covered it.
I was tempted to call Sebastian right then to thank him for getting me last night and for paying for the bill but then I remembered that we weren’t that kind of friends. I only called him twice since I met him and those were due to absolute necessity. I decided to just thank him when I saw him next, despite not fully being over his outburst earlier last night. Since I’m in no position to refuse his generosity, it’s all I can do to offer my gratitude.
I don’t feel so lucky now that I’ve been awaiting my turn at the police station for a damn hour. With nothing to entertain me other than some old gossip magazine I found lying around. Andrew dropped me off here and then went home with Lily since she wanted to change out of her pajamas. Yeah, she didn’t think to do that before she rushed to me in the hospital as if I were dying or something.
I love my best friend.
Either way, they left me here an hour ago. Since I’m still phoneless after last night, I can’t even ask her when she’ll be back here. The silver lining is that Lily kept her old, still intact phone when she got her current one, so I don’t have to spend all my savings on a replacement. It looks like I’m actually getting an upgrade on that front, since my phone was ancient and had a broken screen.
The station door opens, and like I do every time when it does, I look up from the magazine and check who it is. This time, I’m relieved to finally see my friend and her boyfriend enter, already looking around the room in search of me. I stand up and wave them over, unable to contain my smile when Lily teasingly waves my new phone in front of her as she comes closer.
I hug her as soon as she’s within reach. Then I do the same with Andrew, and finally, I hug the shiny phone with its fluffy case to my chest. Yeah, the case will have to go but I’m still happy to have a phone again, no matter that I don’t have any of my stuff on it yet. Just the weight of it in my hand is reassuring. It’s scary how lost I felt without one.
“Thanks for coming, I was about to die of boredom. I don’t know how people did it back in the day,” I say, exaggerating just to see them smile and roll their eyes at my dramatics.
“Have you given your statement?” Lily asks.
“No, they keep telling me to wait,” I reply and already, my mood is dimming. I just want to go home, take a shower, and change out of my party clothes. I wish Lily had brought me something to change into, I can tell the people here disregard me more than they usually would because I look the way I do. That is to say, like a beat-up hooker.
“What? You’ve been here for over an hour. Hang on, I’ll handle it,” Andrew pipes in. Before I can accept or deny the offer, he’s striding towards an officer behind his desk, muttering, “Unbelievable.”
Lily just looks at me and shrugs. To no one’s surprise, Andrew is back with the officer at his side in a matter of minutes. I’d be offended if I didn’t just want to get this over with.
“Hello again, miss. I’m ready for your statement now,” he tells me, smiling nervously. What I want to retort is that he would have been ready for me half an hour ago if he had just stopped watching a recorded football game on his laptop with the screen turned away from me in the hopes I wouldn’t know.
But seeing as Andrew probably already gave him shit for his lack of professionality and my inconvenience, I decide to smile back just slightly and say, “That’s great.” We go to his desk where I have to tell him every little detail from where I was robbed to any characteristics I can list about the person’s appearance.
Finally, he nods to my split lip and bruise and asks, “That’s from the man that robbed you?” I nod but to my surprise, the officer, who didn’t waste a moment second-guessing any of my replies so far, gives me a skeptical look. Then his eyes flick to Andrew.
I understand what he’s building up to and my protectiveness for my friend grabs me by the throat, making my next words come out sharper than they should. “I tried to swing my purse at my attacker. He grabbed the thing and pulled at it. When I wouldn’t let go, he hit me. That’s what happened, as I told you twice now. Are we done, here, officer? I’d like to go home and change, and I believe you have a football game to finish watching.”
The man’s round face turns purple as he nods his head vigorously. “Yes, of course. Have a nice day.” With that, he’s off his chair and rushing to the bathroom. Lily and Andrew are with me the next second.
“Ready to go home?” Andrew asks as Lily throws her arm around my waist.
“Oh, yes, please.”
By the time my birthday rolls around two weeks after my mishap on the way home, I still haven’t had the chance to thank Sebastian for coming to my rescue. He hasn’t hosted any parties, and we didn’t go to any clubs. If it weren’t for the fact that all of my friends have been busier than usual, I would’ve thought he was avoiding me.
At least there’s no way I won’t see him tonight at the birthday party Lilianne insisted on throwing me. The party I don’t know the location of or dress code for yet. All I know is that Lily’s picking me up at three pm to do god-knows-what with me. Later, she said, we’ll get ready together so I guess I’ll be in good hands.
That leaves me with six hours to spare, which I cannot spend getting pampering myself since I have been given the instruction to be bare-faced and unshowered when my friend arrives. I’m scared to find out what she has planned for me.
For now, I’m working up the courage to step out of my apartment building to get my mail. I eye the short way up to my mailbox through the glass door before looking down at my outfit. Fuzzy socks in my slippers, shorts, and a fuzzy sweatshirt. I’m so fucking cozy but even the sight of the outside makes goosebumps prick my legs.
I take a deep breath and force myself to push through the door, damn near howling when the icy December cold envelops my body. I make my way to my mailbox in jumpy steps, fumble to get the key inside to open the box, then make a clumsy sprint back inside the building with my letters in hand.
As soon as I’m back in my tiny, warm apartment, I grab a fluffy blanket and wrap it around myself. Then I sit at the table I threw my mail on and start opening the letters.
Happy fucking birthday to me is all I can say to the stack of bills. And then there’s the envelope with the neatly written address on the front. I recognize my mother’s handwriting and quickly decide that I’m not in the mood to open that just yet. Besides, I’m fairly certain I know what it’s about.
My parents have been begging me to come over some time to catch up, which I have. A few times in the three years since I moved out. It’s not that I necessarily don’t want to see them. It’s just that I’m busy with work most of the time, and whenever I’m not, I’m out with my friends or in need of some me-time.
Yeah, there’s nothing better than a hot bath with some cheap scented oils and a few candles to make me feel like the royalty I sure was in another life. I kept the attitude from back then, for sure. The wealth? Not so much.
Anyway, it also doesn’t help that every meeting with my parents is so damn strained. Ever since my mom got clean and it dawned on her what went down at home while she was busy spending money we didn’t have on drugs, she became horribly nice. In a very forced way .
We don’t talk about my childhood. Neither my dad nor my mom ever tried to pick up the topic and while I’m very fine with that and don’t hold a grudge for whatever flaws they might’ve had, the awkwardness between us makes it hard to be with them.
I know my mom feels guilty for not having been around. In the sense of not having helped financially, not having been there to make my meals or help me with school, and not having been mentally present enough to share any of my firsts with. Again, I don’t blame her but I also don’t feel the need to make up for lost time.
My dad’s a little more complicated. It’s not that I’m scared of him. I love my father very much and am eternally grateful for how he managed to step up and provide me with a stable enough home. There is no reason for him to hurt me anymore and I know he wouldn’t. Sometimes, when we’re left alone though, I’m just not that comfortable, but that’s my issue.
Yeah, I’ll deal with that letter some other time.
That leaves me with one more envelope, a cream-colored, expensive-looking, narrow thing. I eye it suspiciously and open it. The letter inside has been folded twice so the paper’s parted in perfect thirds once I open it. That’s my first indication that this letter is too fancy to fit the others.
The extravagant font is the second giveaway.
I scan the words quickly, my heart racing a little more the further along I get. When I’m done, I reread it two times, wondering if this is to be trusted. After the fourth read, I decide it is and jump to my feet, squealing like an idiot.
Oh my god, I’m going to kiss him. His signature isn’t anywhere on here, but I know it’s him. The name of the gallery I just got an invitation to is proof enough. “Rose Gallery” is the biggest art exhibition within a hundred miles, the one Sebastian’s grandfather sponsored at one point in the last century. The first owner then gave him the right to name it, so the old Henderson named it in his wife’s, Rosie’s, honor.
I can’t believe I get to go! There’s usually an outrageous entrance fee but not with this. Not with an invitation.
I’m going to fucking kiss Sebastian’s stupid, privileged face until he regrets ever having given me a present like this. I had no idea he even knew of my love for art. It’s not like I always talk about it when I’m out dancing, though maybe I mentioned it at a dinner once.
Which solidifies my point, I can’t believe he knew to get me this. Stupid, brilliant, attentive idiot. He’s so going to regret having done this. It’s the second time he was nice to me in the span of a month. Maybe this is him calling a truce.
I can go to the Rose Gallery !
I have to get ready! If I take a cab, I can be at the gallery in fifteen minutes, but I certainly can’t go looking like I am now. Luckily, my hair still looks good enough that I don’t have to wash it, but I have to change and put on some makeup.
I’ll take it off for Lily later on but there’s no way I’m going to a gallery looking like a zombie. No, it’s all about the aesthetic.
Twenty minutes later, I’m sitting in a cab, wearing my most beloved, classiest simple silk dress I thrifted recently paired with some knee-high boots and a thick coat, clutching the beautiful invitation tightly. As I dreamily look at the beautiful font, I can’t help but think that this is already the best birthday of my life .
There’s no way I’ll ever be able to repay Sebastian for this.