Push(64)

“Sorry you had to see that,” I say, offering him a chance to answer my questions without actually having to ask them.

“I didn’t see any of it.”

“Oh.” Perhaps feigning innocence will save me. He looks almost disappointed that I don’t remember more.

“I had a job to finish last night, and I couldn’t walk away. Despite how much I wanted to.” He runs his fingers through his hair and leans forward on the chair. “You were completely fucked up. I should have been watching you more. I should have been paying better attention to how much you were drinking. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“I’m a big girl, David. I should have been watching all that for myself. But I was having so much fun. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you or made things awkward between us. Or between you and your friends.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. Or embarrassed,” he says with a look of confusion on his face. “What do you remember?”

“I remember Matt.” There. I said it. It feels like a confessional.

David stands up and walks over to the bed. He sits on the edge and runs his fingers across my forehead and through my hair.

“Yeah? Well, he’s the one that got to see all your impressive regurgitation. He’s the one that brought you home.”

“What? Why? I don’t understand.” And I don’t. I am so confused. Last night I learned they know each other, but obviously they are better friends than I thought.

He must see how utterly perplexed I am. “Matt is a friend, Emma. He has been for a while. I told you that last night, and I told you why I hadn’t mentioned it before. He’s the only one I could trust to get you home when I couldn’t. I called him, he came, and he took care of you. He told me how completely messed up you were.”

“What else did he tell you?” I can’t look at David’s eyes. It hurts.

“I’m not sure you want to know.” I’m not sure I want to know either.

“Please,” I say. “Before I see him at work, I need to know. That is if they don’t fire me for not calling off today.”

“Matt took care of it, so no worries there.”

“That’s way too nice of him. I don’t deserve it.” I wait a few seconds for David to tell me more about last night, but when he doesn’t offer it up, I ask again. “So, are you going to tell me or not?” He inhales sharply and looks as if he’s collecting his thoughts, deciding what he should, and shouldn’t, tell me. I still can’t look at him.

“Short story is you wiped the floor clean with your pretty ass, and I couldn’t get you back up. Carl was breathing down my neck to finish the game, so I called Matt and asked him to come get you. When he got there, we roused you, put you in the car, and Matt took it from there. I wound up with the rest of Carl’s money, finished my job, packed up the place, and came home at four to find Matt crashed on the couch and you in my bed.” He stops for a minute, pausing just long enough to put his hand on my chin and turn my face toward his. When I look at him I am wincing, scrunching up my face in preparation for the horribleness that is sure to come. I am dreading what he might say next, and my face is not squelching my feelings. I know he can read my worry like a book.

“When I woke Matt up to ask him how you were, he told me about the puking and about how he had to put you in the shower because you were covered in it. He said it was pretty bad.”

“Ugh,” I say, wondering how angry David really is, knowing that Matt put me in the shower and cleaned me up. He’s hiding it pretty well.

“I’m not mad at you, Emma, if that’s what you’re worried about. Everyone gets shit-faced sometimes. I’m not mad at Matt either. I trust that he didn’t do any of the creepy shit that my other asshole friends would have done with a drunk-as-fuck woman. When you see him at work tomorrow, you should thank him.” He is saying all this with a guarded face. I get the distinct feeling that I am missing something.

“There is something you aren’t telling me,” I say. “What is it?”

David sighs and bends down to plant a soft kiss on my lips. I try not to exhale because I don’t want him to smell my foul breath.

“I hated last night,” he says with both sadness and downright resentment. Oh, no. I suddenly want to kick myself for making him feel this way. “I hate that I watched you get so drunk. I hate that I couldn’t be the one to take care of you. I hate knowing that Matt probably saw you naked and now you have to work with him every day. I hate that I had to lie to you about knowing him. And I hate that the night after telling me about your warped-as-fuck stepfather, you were puking your guts out with no one but the douche bag to hold your hair.” Wow.