EZRA
‘ C AN YOU STOP TWITCHING ? Y OU ’ RE STRESSING ME OUT .’
‘I’m not twitching. Just – don’t you think Audrey’s been gone a while?’
Eleven minutes, to be exact. She said she was going to the bathroom, but I can’t quite shake this nagging feeling of unease, compounded by the fact that she’s been drinking steadily all night. I stopped fetching her refills when she started to muddle her words but that didn’t stop other people from offering them. And suggesting that she slow down would have sounded unbearably patronising, so … I didn’t.
It’s not like she isn’t having a good time. She’s been smiling, laughing, even dancing with Mac when a Lorde song came on. I stayed where I was, trying not to stare.
‘Go check on her, then,’ Mac says. He’s sitting on the sofa with Dominic, who seems to be his date for the night. I’m on the floor.
‘I don’t know,’ I sigh. ‘Is that not a bit weird?’
‘She’s your girlfriend.’ Dominic frowns. ‘How is that weird?’
‘She’s not my girlfriend.’
‘She’s not his girlfriend,’ Mac confirms – the party hat is atop his head now, set at a jaunty angle like a beret.
‘Oh,’ Dominic says. ‘I just assumed because you’re so obviously obsessed with her.’
‘Yeah, but he’s too emotionally stunted to do anything about it.’
‘Is that a British thing or a him thing?’
‘Bit of both?’
‘Right. That makes sense.’
I glower at them both. Like Mac, Dominic is charismatic, good looking and currently getting on my nerves.
‘Still, I second Mac,’ Dominic adds, absently running a hand over his shaved head. ‘Go and look for her. Maybe she’s waiting for you in the bedroom.’
I get to my feet, abruptly done with this conversation. The apartment is almost empty – most people started trickling away after midnight, heading home or drifting deeper into the night. I head down the hall towards the bathroom, leaning against the door and knocking lightly. No response.
‘Audrey?’ I call. ‘Are you in there?’
Nothing. I knock a little harder, try the handle. The door parts, unlocked.
‘Anyone?’ I call again. Nothing.
‘I’m coming in,’ I say finally, pushing it open. And there, piled in a crumpled heap against the wall –
‘ Shit ,’ I hiss, immediately sinking to my knees in front of her. ‘Audrey. Wake up.’
I brush her pale hair away from her face, taking a limp hand and squeezing it. She doesn’t so much as stir.
‘ Audrey ,’ I say loudly, trying hard not to freak out. She’s definitely breathing, but I’d really love for her to be fully conscious right now so I start frantically patting her cheeks, light little taps, and her eyes flutter open. Her gaze is unfocused as she looks around the room, head lolling.
‘Thank fuck,’ I mutter, and she fixes her bleary eyes on me.
‘I don’t feel well,’ she says weakly, and that’s all the warning I need to reach for the plastic bin beside the sink. I hand it to her, and she hugs it to her chest before vomiting – I quickly gather her hair in my fist, instinctively rubbing slow, small circles against her upper back with my free hand. It’s what my mum used to do for me whenever I got sick as a kid.
Once she’s finished, I get to my feet to fetch her some water from the sink. She takes a sip and shuts her eyes, a cloudy tear slipping down her cheek as I crouch beside her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she says hoarsely, brow puckered.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘I’ve ruined your birthday.’
‘No,’ I reply, reassured by how lucid she seems. ‘My sisters beat you to that. Besides, it’s not my birthday any more.’
‘I just wanted to sit down for a second.’ She sniffs. ‘I’m so stupid.’
‘You’re not stupid. Don’t say that.’
‘I’ll be fine in a second. I just need a second.’
‘Take as much time as you need. I’ll be here.’
‘No, go back to the party. I’m okay. I’ll get a cab—’
‘Not by yourself. I’ll come with you. Or we can call Marika?’
‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘I don’t want to bother her. And you can’t leave – it’s your party.’
‘Mac’ll keep an eye on things. Or you can stay here tonight. It would give me a great excuse to kick everyone out, at least.’
She looks up at me, then, eyes wide and watery.
‘I’d take the sofa, obviously,’ I add quickly. ‘Either way, not a problem.’
Then I get to my feet, moving to dispose of the contents of the bin for her. She looks up at me with very real panic, clutching it tighter.
‘Um, no thank you,’ she says quietly. ‘I think I might need it again.’
Mac and Dominic, now forgiven, help me clear out the remaining stragglers with surprising efficiency. When I check back in with Audrey, she sheepishly asks me if she can take a shower. I understand the impulse – showering after being sick feels like a baptism. I fetch her spare towels and fresh clothes, my narrowest tracksuit bottoms and a soft white T-shirt, plus a new toothbrush. And then I get to work, throwing my bedroom window open and frantically changing the sheets just in case she does decide to stay. I’m wiping dust from the nightstand with an old sock when there’s a tentative knock at the door.
‘Come in,’ I say, tossing it in the hamper. Audrey steps inside, wet hair tucked behind her ears, face flushed. The apartment is silent, so she must know that everyone else has left.
‘I feel better,’ she says, hugging herself slightly. ‘Thank you.’
‘No worries. Uh – do you want to head home, or … ?’
‘I’m really tired,’ she says quietly, dropping her gaze. ‘If you meant what you said about me staying here …’
‘Of course,’ I say quickly. ‘No problem.’
‘I’ll sleep on the sofa. You don’t have to give up your bed.’
‘No, you’re all good. I love the sofa. The sofa and me go way back.’
‘Okay.’ She nods. ‘If you’re sure. Thank you.’
‘Right. Um – phone charger next to the bed, if you want to message Marika – let her know you’re crashing here, maybe. Water from the taps, obviously. Painkillers – there’s some on the dresser, there.’
She nods, says nothing.
‘Right,’ I say again, stepping around her, through the doorway. ‘I’ll be in the living room if you need me – or anything else, you know.’
‘Okay. Good night,’ she says quietly. I nod, shut the door behind me. Fuck , I think. Fuck.
It took me way, way too long to realise that something was wrong with Audrey tonight. She did seem slightly subdued when she showed up, but I figured that was because she was tired. Then, when she shut down the question of her being interested in Mac within a second of me posing it, I even wondered if tonight might be the night when I muster up enough chutzpah to ask if she’s interested in me .
But then – I don’t know. There was that weird moment in the kitchen where she honestly acted as though she’d seen a ghost, and immediately after that she started pounding back her drinks. I guess that the alcohol must have softened and smeared whatever she was feeling, because she seemed more relaxed after that, but—
My alcohol. My fault.
I pad into the kitchen as quietly as I can, the floor sticky beneath my socks as I pour myself a glass of water, catching my reflection in the shiny black door of the fridge.
‘You prick,’ I say aloud. My voice sounds strange in the empty room.