"I just knew something was wrong today. I just knew it." I rubbed the palms of my hands over my eyes. "I don't know what to do anymore."
"You have to talk to her tomorrow. Find out what's going on. She can't keep doing this to you."
I nodded. Not having the energy to think about what I was going to say. I'd hit a wall, and I was exhausted.
"You should get some sleep," Jonathan encouraged, observing my worn face.
"I don't want her throwing up and choking in her sleep." I peered in at my mother, her mouth hanging open, the pillow damp under her wet, dark hair.
"I'll stay with her in her room," he offered. "I'll lay on her floor and keep an eye on her. I'm a light sleeper."
"You don't have to. I can do that."
"You look like you're about to fall over. I have a feeling that when you fall asleep, you won't wake up for a tornado."
I knew he was right. I was so tired, I could barely stand up.
"Thank you again," I told him before shuffling to my room. I didn't bother closing my door, hoping I could help him if needed. I collapsed in my bed and fell asleep instantly.
"Emma." I could hear his voice. "Emma." The side of my bed caved in next to me. "Emma." He ran his cool finger along my cheek, brushing the hair from my face. "Emma, open your eyes."
I pushed them open and Jonathan was above me, sitting on the edge of my bed. "I'm going to leave." I glanced at the clock. It read a little past seven. "I don't think I should be here when she wakes up. She's going to have a pretty miserable day already. Call me later?"
"Okay," I grumbled into my pillow, my eyes barely open. I heard the stairs creak and the glass rattle when he closed front door behind him. I shut my eyes and fell back to sleep.
I opened them again, what felt like a minute later, to the buzzing of my phone rattling on the table next to my bed. I put it to my ear.
"Where are you?" Casey demanded from the other end. I bolted upright and looked at the clock that now read after ten. I was supposed to be at soccer practice. Panic flashed through me, and I whipped back the covers, prepared to rush to the fields, but they were a good half hour away.
"I'm sick," I lied, flopping back down on my pillow. "Sorry."
"That's why you left the party last night, right? That's what Evan said."
"Yeah," I replied, thankful that my lying to Evan was paying off, sort of. "I should have called, but I'm in bed." Which was technically true.
"I'll tell Coach," Casey said. "He's going to yell at me for being on the phone. I should go." Then she added quickly, "If you feel better, you should still come to the game tomorrow. He may still play you."
I knew that was wishful thinking. Missing two practices in a row―I'd be lucky if I started next week, forget about playing tomorrow. I blew out the frustration with a heavy breath and stared at the ceiling. I'd never missed a commitment before, and the thought of making my coach or teammates disappointed in me caused guilt to slither through me. I would go to the game tomorrow, supported by the lie that I was sick, and hope they wouldn't see right through me.
I might as well get up now, I thought and rolled out of bed.
My mother's door was open. She was still asleep when I peeked in on her. The bucket next to her remained empty―which made me think of the porch. I cringed at the thought of what it was going to look like in the daylight.
I shoved my feet in a pair of old sneakers and went downstairs, noticing that the garbage bag was gone. I was prepared to toss it in the trash when I went outside. I dug around in the kitchen and found the acrylic pitchers used for the margaritas and filled them with hot soapy water. Then I braced myself and opened the front door―but there was nothing there.
I stepped out onto the porch to investigate further. There was no trace of the putrid mess other than wet stained boards. I noticed the hose on the side of the garage―of course I found it now. Jonathan must have sprayed off the stairs before he left.
I didn't bother to return to bed, but curled up on the couch, pulling a blanket over me. My phone had a text from Evan and a missed call from Sara. I replied to both of them with a text promising to call them later. I wasn't sure I'd be a very convincing liar at that moment, and I needed time to decide what to tell them. But I wasn't ready to tell them the truth.
I returned Vivian's phone call, since it was time sensitive, and left her a voice message saying that I'd be happy to meet her for brunch in the morning. I could pull myself back together and be presentable by then... I hoped.