Intoxicated (14 page)

Surprisingly enough, the traffic wasn’t too
bad until I had almost reached Indianapolis. I still managed to
make relatively good time. It wasn’t yet eight at night when I
pulled into the underground parking garage at Eric’s building. True
to his word, Eric’s BMW occupied his assigned space; I swung the
Honda into the spot next to it. He had made a big deal out of
purchasing two parking spots when he bought the condo. The second
had, on paper, been reserved for me. He had made it sound like it
was a huge step in committing to me, almost on par with buying a
diamond ring. However, when I realized the layout of the garage, I
felt he had ulterior motives. The spaces were sectioned off in
threes, divided by giant concrete walls. Eric’s spot was directly
next to one of those walls, mine was to the left. By purchasing two
spots, he had assured himself that another tenant would never park
directly next to his car. Very convenient.

I popped the trunk and grabbed the small
duffel bag I had brought with me. Considering that I did have a
drawer in Eric’s dresser, I was able to pack fairly light. A
weekend trip didn’t necessitate too much luggage. Although I loved
my hair and makeup products, I didn’t consider myself too
high-maintenance. I could part with most of it to ensure myself an
easy to carry load.

I boarded the elevator and selected the ninth
floor. Though Eric lived in a high rise, his salary didn’t support
a mortgage on one of the higher floors. Still, he had done very
well for himself. The views from his place were impressive. My
stomach lurched with anticipation as the doors closed and I began
my ascent. Within seconds, I had arrived at my destination. The
doors slid open and I exited, turning right and walking down the
hall.

Eric’s unit was all the way at the end. This
provided him with a corner unit and quite arguably one of the best
buys in the complex. As my feet floated across the carpeted floor,
I dug in my purse for the keychain that held only one item: the key
to Eric’s place. As much as I would have preferred to simply knock
at his door to announce myself, Eric insisted that I let myself in.
This was in no uncertain way to remind me that I was welcome to
move right in and call this my home, too.

I squelched the urge to tap on his door and
inserted the key in the lock. He was more than likely sitting on
the couch anyway; he would hear the commotion and realize I was
here. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the door.

The condo was bathed in shadows. Being open
concept, I could see straight through to the downtown Indy skyline.
The lights from the city supplied most of the illumination. The
rest of the lighting came compliments of several candles.

I shut the front door quietly behind me and
set my bag down just inside the threshold. I placed my purse and
keys on top and allowed my eyes to adjust to the dim
conditions.

“Hi, there,” Eric greeted.

Like I suspected, he was seated on the couch.
As expected, he was dressed in his typical weekend uniform, though
in a casual manner for him. His polo shirt was clearly untucked,
the buttons undone. His hair was much too short to look anything
but perfect.

“Hi.”

“Your gourmet dinner awaits,” he smiled,
motioning to the open pizza box on the table. “I found myself
unable to resist, so I may have had a little already.”

I walked over to him, sinking down beside him
on the sofa. Pizza wasn’t the only thing that he had already had a
little of. I moved two empty beer bottles out of the way in order
to grab a slice of pepperoni. He took that as a cue to rise from
his seat, collect the trash and offer me my own beverage. He
returned from the kitchen with a soda for me and two beers for
himself.

Even though I never drank, it didn’t offend
me when others did. I wasn’t about to get bent out of shape when
people around me had a drink or two or ten. As long as they weren’t
driving afterwards, it was all good with me. Eric, of course, had
been around long enough to understand this. Once Gracie had gotten
over her own awkwardness with the situation, she became thankful
that I tagged along as her built-in designated driver. Up until
recently, I had spent the majority of my time with those who knew
my stance on the issue. I hadn’t consciously had to think about it
for ages before addressing it with Blake and Matthew.

To be honest, I was almost happy that Eric
had begun drinking before I arrived. Alcohol had a calming effect
upon him; it helped soften his Type-A personality. Especially
tonight, I didn’t want to fight about anything. I wanted my
boyfriend to myself for a change. We desperately needed some
quality time with one another.

He watched me intently as I ate, asking me
questions about my new job and my new home. I answered eagerly. He
seemed to be genuinely interested in my answers. I debated whether
or not to ask him about Thanksgiving. I wasn’t sure how to approach
it. I didn’t want to ruin the moment by bringing up a touchy
subject. I remembered his words when he learned about Matthew’s
arrest. He had sounded angry enough to drive to Fort Wayne himself
and bring me home. I needed to devise a foolproof plan before I
suggested he spend several hours in Matthew’s company. So I bit my
tongue instead.

By the time we finished off the pizza, Eric
had also finished off the other two beers. In addition to mellowing
him out, his intoxication also made him amorous. Once he returned
from clearing the table, he sat down right next to me. He wrapped
his arm around my shoulders, stroking my cheek with his thumb. A
shiver ran down my spine. I could smell the alcohol on his breath
as he leaned closer.

“I’m so glad that you’re here in the right
area code,” he whispered.

“I’m glad I’m here, too,” I said, really
meaning it, “but since I didn’t change my cell number, I’m always
in the right area code.”

He chuckled as he tucked my bangs behind my
ear. His emerald green eyes sparkled mischievously. “You know what
I mean.”

“I do.”

My words were hushed. I dreaded the direction
in which this conversation was headed. Undoubtedly, he would turn
an innocent admission of loneliness into an all-out appeal to move
back home. That was exactly the last thing I wanted to hear
tonight.

Partially as a stalling tactic, I reached up
and kissed him. The second our lips met, the argument was
forgotten. His fingers laced through my hair, hungrily drawing me
into him. His hands trailed down my back, playing with the hem of
my sweater. Slowly, he worked his way underneath the fabric. The
feel of his skin against my bare abdomen made my breath hitch.

“Come on,” he demanded huskily, rising from
the couch and extending his hand.

There was no need to question where. I
offered my hand to him, and he pulled me up to my feet. Still
holding hands, we walked down the hall to his bedroom. Once inside,
my jeans found their way to the floor. My sweater followed suit
shortly thereafter. Dressed only in my bra and underwear, I climbed
up on his bed.

I turned around to face him, bent at the
knees. Due to our height difference, this was just about the only
way we came close to looking each other in the eye. He stood before
me, fully clothed, his eyes taking me in as if it was the first
time he had ever seen me. A trace of emotion flickered over his
features, gone too quickly for me to recognize. Love? Guilt? I
couldn’t be sure.

His kisses were deep and insistent at this
point. I grabbed his polo shirt, bunching the cotton in my fists as
I drug him to me. He hardened noticeably against my legs. I pulled
his shirt up over his head, our lips breaking contact for just the
briefest of moments. The garment fell to the hardwood floor.

Eric pushed gently on my shoulders, lowering
me to the mattress. I laid on my back, staring up at him as he
crawled on top of me. Although he wasn’t underwear model perfect,
he was still attractive. His frame was more lanky than muscular;
his features not chiseled, but nevertheless pleasing to the eye.
Best of all, he was mine.

Suddenly, nothing mattered except for us
being here together, right here, right now. Our bodies moved in
unison, anticipating each other’s touch. I lost myself in his
embrace, not thinking about our differences in opinion. As much as
we fought, as often as we disagreed, I couldn’t deny that our
chemistry was explosive.

Maybe the reason for our urgency laid in the
fact that I could count on one hand how many times we had been in
the same place in the past three months. The number of those times
we had actually been intimate was even less. Granted, that time had
been filled with many heated discussions about my promotion and
impending move. Still, we had managed to overcome all of that and
continue on as though nothing had happened. Our relationship, when
going well, was like a favorite pair of jeans. Comfortable,
dependable, maybe with a few frayed edges but never something I
could throw away.

Afterwards, I lingered in bed beside him,
savoring his closeness. His arm was wrapped around me. My head
rested against his shoulder; my arm draped possessively across his
chest. I could feel his heart beating under my palm. Its frantic
pace had slowed to a calm, even rhythm. His breathing was leisurely
and deep, almost on the verge of sleep. I raised my head to take a
look at him. Sure enough, his eyes were closed, his lips set in a
small, self-assured smile.

I wondered what he was thinking about. I
could break the silence and ask him, but I chose not to. I didn’t
want to interrupt that blurry moment between consciousness and
sleep, where one could influence their dreams. Whatever he was
considering looked pleasant, peaceful. I hoped that he was
contemplating how good it felt to be together, safe in the arms of
the one that you loved.

I hoped he would dream about me.

I settled back down beside him, eyes wide
open. The lights of downtown Indianapolis shone through his picture
window, casting shadows over his bedroom. For many people, the
night was just getting started. I imagined being amongst the crowds
getting ready to go out for a night on the town, stumbling along
the sidewalk in platform heels that screamed my availability and
willingness to go home with someone new. That life had never
appealed to me. Besides, here I was, curled up in bed at ten on a
Friday night with the only man I had ever been with. We were the
picture of domestic bliss, at least for this moment.

Within minutes, the long drive coupled with
the endless workday caught up with me. My eyelids became heavy and
I too succumbed to sleep.

My dream began much like the one I had wanted
for Eric. My visions were hazy, the images abstract. The one thing
that was clear was that I was overwhelmed with happiness. It
appeared that I was standing in an open field, sunshine and flowers
the only things around for miles. I was spinning, spinning, and I
could hear my own laughter. Instead of getting dizzy, I found
myself only wanting more.

I wasn’t alone. Of course Eric was with me.
Though I couldn’t see him, I knew he was holding my hand. I could
feel his love surrounding me. It was like I could read his mind; I
could hear all the words he wanted to say to me but was afraid to.
They echoed in my head in my own voice, as if they were written
down and I was reading them to myself. How he had loved me ever
since the day we met. How he had known we would end up together.
How he knew that I was the one. How he wanted so badly for me to be
his wife. How he would love me forever and always protect me. How
he hated to see me upset. How he was so thankful that I could
forgive him for everything he had done.

I melted, warmed by his words of endearment.
Rays of sunlight shone down upon my bare shoulders, heating my arms
as well. The spinning quickened. I giggled harder, amazed at the
colors that flashed before my eyes. Blues, greens, pinks, purples
streamed through my thoughts, mixing together in some type of
tie-dyed collage that sounded putrid in theory but was unbelievably
beautiful in my dreamy reality.

The spinning stopped abruptly. I realized I
was falling, but I wasn’t scared. I drifted in the air like a
feather, floating slowly down to my destination. I had landed on a
soft pillowtop mattress, much like the one I had at Blake’s. In
fact, it looked like I had made it back to my bedroom. I recognized
my comforter draped over my legs.

It was like I was hovering above myself,
having some sort of an out-of-body experience. I could picture
myself completely naked in my own bed, wrapped in a tangle of arms
and legs that didn’t belong to me. Instead of being afraid, I was
totally at peace, knowing I was where I belonged. Again, I felt
nothing but warmth and happiness, complete and utter contentment.
From my viewpoint, I couldn’t make out Eric’s face. I watched as I
ran one hand down his muscular chest, tracing his washboard abs
with my fingers. My other hand clutched a fistful of his messy
blond hair.

Shit.

My eyes flew open. The darkness of Eric’s
bedroom greeted me. His drunken arm was slung over me, nothing more
than dead weight at this point. I wiggled out from underneath and
sat up in bed, cradling my head in both hands. Beside me, Eric
muttered something incoherent then rolled over and began snoring
again. I gasped for air as quietly as possible. My heart raced
uncontrollably. I sat for several moments, rocking myself gently
until I felt able to get up and retreat to the bathroom.

I closed the door softly behind me, turning
the lock with trembling fingers. The bright lights above the vanity
made me squint. I stumbled over to the toilet, closed the lid and
perched on top. I attempted to calm myself by looking around the
large master bath, trying to find an imperfection or a trace that
anyone had actually ever used it. Everything shined like brand new.
The fixtures gleamed courtesy of the housekeeper I knew Eric
employed. Not a spot on the mirror, not a trace of hair on the
floor, no toothpaste residue in either of the double sinks. No wet
towels hung from the shower door or were draped over the side of
the jetted tub.