3. Odette
3
ODETTE
When I need it most, restful sleep eludes me. All night long, I toss and turn, wrestling with my thoughts as vague dreams drift in and out of my consciousness. Not just any dreams, but dreams that relentlessly tug at memories I’d rather they stayed buried.
Memories of the family I loved and lost, whose absence I still grieve to this day, despite knowing that they didn’t love me back.
Memories of him .
This is why I hate the holidays. My subconscious uses that as a built-in excuse to dredge all those memories back up — good and bad — even though I’d love nothing more than shove it all back down. Holidays make you nostalgic, and nostalgia makes you vulnerable, which in turn leads to immeasurable pain and hurt. I’d rather skip all that and get to the New Year, where all I’d have to deal with is the one year older but not necessarily wiser crap. I could use that right about now.
As I ruminate in my existential crisis, a light knock sounds on my bedroom door.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!” Chloe’s cheerful voice cuts through the haze.
With a groan, I roll onto my back as the door opens, and she walks in with her usual bright smile plastered on her face. I can’t help the scowl that forms at her cheery disposition, even as the rich aroma of black coffee — just how I like it — fills the room.
“You look like you need this.” She holds out the steaming mug.
I sit up, and she pushes it into my hands. The warmth radiates through the ceramic, and I bring it to my face, breathing in the aroma. The scent is rich and heady, bitter yet comforting — a hint of roasted caramel and dark earth, deep enough to shake off the lingering fog of my bad dreams and pesky memories.
“Thanks,” I mumble before taking a tentative sip. The taste is warm and dark, filling me with something akin to peace.
She leans over and pats my leg. “What’s the point in having a prescription for sleep medication if you won’t take them when you need it?”
I glance at her, saying nothing. She always sees right through me, but I’m not ready for her probing cheerfulness today. Certainly not this early. Instead, I savor the coffee in silence as she sits on the edge of my bed, watching me like a hawk with her sparkling brown eyes and messy bun that somehow looks effortlessly chic.
“I know why you didn’t take them,” she continues, then proceeds to answer her question. “You’re worried Aurora might call and you won’t be awake to answer.”
Sure, that’s the reason. Let’s go with that.
“Just tell her,” she finishes, her voice softening. “And before you?—”
“Tell her what, exactly?” I interject in a half-mumble, half-groan. “That I can’t get my shit together, so medicating my way through the holidays is how I survive it? That’s my cross to bear, not hers.”
Chloe sighs. “Aurora’s a lot smarter than she looks. She’s your daughter, after all.”
“My point exactly.”
“She already knows you have difficulty sleeping. Tell her that you need to take them sometimes. She’ll understand.”
Her phone rings before my brain can formulate a half-hearted denial. She pulls it out of her pocket, and her face lights up when she sees who it is.
“This isn’t over,” she mouths as she stands, then presses the green button. “Carrington. I told you I was busy.” She pauses, and I watch as she listens, then her grin widens as she turns away from me. “In your dreams, old man. Like I’ve said a million times, bestie time is sacred. Interrupting that is a capital offense. And fix your tone before you make this worse for yourself.”
I watch her leave before letting out a weary sigh. Despite her curt, no-nonsense tone, I know she is thrilled to hear from her submissive turned boyfriend. I’m glad she has that too — love, that is — even if it sometimes feels like salt in a wound.
Which makes no sense. I’m not jealous of her or anything. She’s one of my best friends. So, too, is Caleb, who won’t be coming home this year either, in favor of spending the holidays with his girlfriend and her family.
It’s fine. I’m not cut out for love, a lesson I learned after a handful of failed relationships. Granted, I’m not actively looking for love, but I won’t turn it away if it shows up on my doorstep. As long as it doesn’t disrupt my relationship with my daughter, I don’t care when or how it happens.
With that thought, I drag myself out of bed and into the shower.