29. Drunken Tirade
Chapter twenty-nine
Drunken Tirade
Maria
A week later…
“We’ve been going out almost every night, Maria. You didn’t used to be this available. What changed?” Oliver touches the steering wheel and adjusts it a little. I’m still getting used to this driving thing.
“I... didn’t tell you? I’m looking for jobs right now. I left my last one. Toxic work environment.” I flip my turn signal and start turning into the adjacent lane; Oliver drags the steering wheel back just in time to avoid colliding with a vehicle passing on the left, its horn blaring.
“You have to check your mirrors before you change lanes,” he says, deadpan. “Just because you have your turn signal on doesn’t mean you have the right of way.”
A wave of heat washes over me and I turn the indicator off to continue going straight. Okay, so I made one mistake.
“If I hadn’t said anything, when were you going to tell me about looking for work?”
“I’d been hoping on never, that I would have found something by now. Why? Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem. But since we’ve been seeing each other for a little over two months now, it would be nice to know that you’ll share with me when there are changes in your life. Take a right on this street up ahead.”
I check my mirrors this time to make sure they’re clear, flip my turn signal, and drift into the right lane. I come to a stop at the red light and check on my left to see if anything is coming. Clear.
I start to take my foot off the gas when Oliver yells at me to stop.
“What does that sign say next to the stoplight?”
“No turn on red.” Dammit. “That’s crap. There’s nothing coming. It’s safe to go.”
“The sign’s there for a reason, Maria. Do you want to be a good driver or not?”
I chew on my bottom lip for a few seconds, contemplating giving him a smart answer or if I should be a good student.
“Sorry. I’m sorry. There’s just so many things to keep track of when you’re driving.”
“There is. And that means you have to pay attention. Remembering all the rules and paying attention to signs is how you keep safe. It’s also how you keep other people safe.”
The light finally turns green and I turn into the next street.
“Why should I be looking out for other people? If they’re following the rules too, then there shouldn’t be any problems.”
“That’s a bratty thing to say.”
“Excuse me!?”
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you, Maria, but you’ve been prickly as of late and I don’t know why. My dad followed the rules of the road and look what happened to him. You think the other person was looking for him when they drove headfirst into his car?”
A sudden lump forms in my throat and tears swell to the corners of my eyes.
“I hadn’t... that’s not what I meant.”
“If it wasn’t, then you shouldn’t have said the words in the first place. Two more blocks straight ahead and then you’re going to pull into the parking garage on the left.”
“Oliver...”
He leans back in his seat and looks out the window; he’s not interested in talking anymore. I hadn’t meant what I said; I was just teasing so that I could get through this driving lesson instead of getting frustrated at every mistake. Instead, I ruined the entire mood of the evening.
I put on a stiff upper lip and aim to finally do this right: mirrors checked, indicator on, and I slow to a stop in front of the parking garage entrance.
Three cars come from the opposite direction and, when there’s a gap, I finally pull through and up to the entrance.
I push the red button, take a ticket, and continue forward once the barrier arm goes up.
“I’m sorry, Oliver. You know I didn’t mean it like that,” I try to apologize again, hoping that he’ll accept it this time. I don’t want the rest of the evening to continue on a bad note, not after all the stressful driving practice I’ve been doing.
“I was just trying to make a joke.”
“A bad one.” He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, then offers his arm. “Let’s just forget about that tonight, alright? We’re supposed to be having fun.”
I lean my head against his shoulder as we cross the street to the bar. I mull over his words from earlier, about me being prickly. I don’t think I’ve changed that much... have I? Even Stanley said so the other week. I’m starting to question why they’d think that.
We sit at the bar near the back wall so that we can have a full view of the game as well as dibs on the bartender’s attention.
The stress from earlier slowly melts away with each imbibed drink, leaving me feeling more relaxed and upbeat.
It’s not long before Oliver is smiling with me as we root for our chosen teams, throwing banter back and forth about how the other’s team sucks.
I honestly have no interest in sports, but I can pretend to if it means having fun like this.
“So, what driving lesson are we going to work on tomorrow?” I ask as I toast my glass against his.
“What do you think about parallel parking?” He grumbles when some of his drink spills onto the bar. I apologize and gesture to the bartender to bring him another.
“I hate parallel parking. Your dad was good at it, though. He could squeeze a car into the smallest spots like a glove.” I then snort into my drink. “He was pretty good at squeezing things into tight places.”
Oliver’s face turns beet red and I can’t help but laugh. I toss back the rest of my drink and slide my empty glass back into the space between us.
“Even with all the driving he did, he still had really soft hands. I wonder if he used some brand of lotion to keep them so soft. Do you know what he used?”
“I... have no idea. I never asked.” He takes a quick sip and places his glass down, nodding gratefully to the bartender when they bring the second drink.
“Huh. Did you two not talk much?”
“We called on occasion... Why are you asking me about this now, Maria? We’ve talked about this before?”
“Have we?” I stare into my glass and realize that it’s empty. “Sorry. I’ve just had a lot going on in my mind recently. Work stress.”
“Is that why you lost your job?”
“I didn’t lose my job,” I scowl back at him and order another drink. “I left. This guy was... overstepping boundaries. I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“He sexually harassed you...?” Oliver rests a hand on my shoulder, his body suddenly stiff and alert.
“No, nothing like that. Nothing I didn’t agree to.” Why does it feel like I shouldn’t be talking about this?
“Wait, were you sleeping with your boss...?”
“Consensually.” Shut up, Maria. “It just sort of happened.” I nod a thank you to the bartender and start working on the next drink to smother the words I know are coming next. The words I don’t want Oliver to hear. This is getting out of hand.
“But let’s not talk about that anymore, okay? I want to focus on us. Where we’re going. Do you think this is a serious thing we have going on here?”
Oliver stares down into his drink for a while.
“I’m not sure. Maybe? I mean, I like you, I like how you make me feel, and you’re easy to talk to.”
His voice tapers off in a way that raises red flags in my mind.
“There’s a but, isn’t there?” There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.
“Let’s talk about something else. Actually, maybe we’ve had enough for one night and should head home.”
I glance up at the large clock on the wall. When did two hours pass by so quickly?
“I don’t feel like leaving.” I know very well he’s not going to abandon me here either, which means we both leave or we both stay.
“Then call yourself a cab,” Oliver shoots back. He pulls a small stack of bills out of his wallet and slaps it next to my drink. “I don’t think I want to be around you right now.”
“What the hell, Oliver!” I grab his sleeve before he can get too far. I can feel the other eyes in the room shifting to us. I don’t care, let them watch.
He turns and glances down at my hand. He’s wearing the angriest scowl I’ve ever seen.
“Please let go of me, Maria.”
“Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
“That’s the thing, I have no idea! I don’t know what’s going on here, Maria, but I don’t think this is going to work out.” He scowls at me as he removes his jacket from the stool and pulls it on. I can feel the floor sinking beneath me and all the heat draining from my face.
I don’t understand what’s going on.
“Wh-what? Oliver, talk to me. What did I do?”
“You’re probably too drunk to understand anything I’m about to say, much less remember it tomorrow, but I don’t appreciate you talking about my dead father like this.
I don’t need to know what you did between the sheets, and I don’t need you comparing us like I need to measure up to what he did for you.
But I’m not him. I’m never going to be him, and I’m not going to let you treat me like his replacement. ”
“I would never treat you like his replacement!”
“Really? Is that why you called me by his name during sex?”
I want to puke.
“That’s not fair...” My throat tightens up and I have to grab onto the edge of the bar to stop the room from spinning.
“No? It’s not fair for me to point out the obvious? That the only reason you’re with me is because I look like your dead lover?”
“I’m not!”
“Even if that’s true, I don’t know how much I can believe you. You’ve been keeping small things from me, it’s only a matter of time before they start becoming big ones.”
That’s not true. You don’t know me at all!
“Last chance, Maria. Do you want me to drive you home or do you want to take a cab?”
I drag a hand across my nose and hand the bartender my credit card so that we can close our tab.
“I can—!”
“No. I got this.” I place a hand on his chest and gently push him back. “I don’t want to appear ungrateful or selfish.”
“I didn’t say any of those things...”
“Doesn’t matter now, does it? Let’s just go.”
It feels like forever before I get my card back, especially with the other people in the bar still staring at us. I have the right mind to tell them off and to mind their own business. Knowing Oliver, he’ll probably tell me I’m wrong to do that too.
The late evening air stings my cheeks as we cross the road back to the parking garage. It’s much noisier out here: the blaring of car horns, the loud people mingling on the sidewalk; in the distance, there’s the sound of an ambulance. I can’t tell if it’s going to or from an emergency.
Drake’s face appears in my mind as I get into the car, and I can’t help but let the tears fall. How did I get to this point? How did it all get so bad?
Oliver places his handkerchief on my knee before pulling out of the parking spot. He probably thinks I’m crying over the break-up. If only he knew...
“Where do you want me to drop you off?”
“Who gives a fuck? Leave me on the side of the road somewhere, I don’t care.”
“Maria, don’t be like this. You know I’m not going to do that.”
“I thought you wouldn’t break up with me either! I thought we had a good thing going!”
“For a while, we did. But I think you still have some baggage you haven’t dealt with yet, and that’s not good for either of us. Maybe when you have it figured out...”
“What? I can come crawling back to you and beg you to take me back? No, fuck that.”
I lean the seat back and stare out the window, wishing that I could be anywhere else but here.
“Is there a friend’s place I can bring you to, at least? I don’t think I can let you be home by yourself.”
A friend? Chelsea’s name pops up at the top of the list. At least I can confide in her.
“76 Briar Lane. Big blue house with black shingles. You can’t miss it.”
Oliver seems satisfied with that answer, enough to not ask any more questions. Until we get there, I close my eyes and try not to think about how much of my life is over.
“Maria...”
I jolt awake when I feel a hand jostling me around. My eyes try to adjust to my surroundings: I’m in a car, parked in front of a building, and Oliver is in the seat next to me.
Oh, right. We’re breaking up.
I wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth and adjust myself in the seat.
“Where are we?”
“76 Briar Lane, like you told me. It doesn’t look like a house, though. More like an apartment building. An expensive one, at that.”
Dammit... There’s no way I can explain to him where we are, for fear of things going south again. I’m just going to have to suck it up.
“Thanks.” I unclip the seatbelt and throw the door open. “I’d say have a good night, but that’s been royally fucked, hasn’t it?”
I slam the door before he can respond and head up the pathway to the front door. I close my eyes for a second to recall the code, the heavy fog of alcohol making it difficult.
I know there’s a seven in there...
After about three or four tries, the door finally buzzes and the lock comes undone. Great. I can finally get away from here.
Away from him.