For Nicky (13 page)

I all but ran home, still feeling the effects of the wine, and barely made it to my bathroom before I vomited all of it back up. I spent the night vomiting and having vivid nightmares which kept flashing images of Audrey and Nate on her couch. Finally, at dawn, with nothing else to bring up, I crashed into bed. I woke a few hours later with a splitting headache and a broken heart.  I made myself some tea and ate some crackers hoping that everything would stay down.  When it did, I took some pain meds for my head. I couldn’t figure out why my whole body felt sore, like I’d been beat up. I sat at my kitchen table, and although I didn’t want to, I replayed the night before in my head over and over and over. I recalled Nate not even wanting to go to Audrey’s, but doing it for me. I recalled needing to go the center to get something off my computer. I remembered feeling lightheaded and sick. Then, and this is the part I had to force myself to pay attention to because all I wanted to do was forget it, I remembered walking up to Audrey’s door and hearing the most God-awful words I’ve ever heard in my life….“Oh God, Nate! It’s even better than last time! Oh, baby, you’re so hard! It’s so good. Yeah, give it to me, Nate! Harder, Nate, harder! Faster! Fuck me, Nate! Oh, Nate, I’m going to come!
Ahhhhh!” I recalled my heart seizing in my chest and my breathing stopping as I opened the door to find Nate on the couch, legs out straight in front of him on the floor, with Audrey straddling him. Audrey held his hands on her breasts. She rode him hard as I watched and then I watched him shudder as he came inside her. Oh, my God. This is the second time that I’ve walked in as the guy I’m dating comes in my sister. What is wrong with me?!? Ugh, before I can even attempt to process all of this, I need to call into work and let them know I won’t be in. I either have the mother of all hangovers from one glass of wine or I must be coming down with something.

Oh, my God, am I dead? Where am I? Is this hell? My head feels like it’s been bashed with several baseball bats. WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT POUNDING SOUND???  My stomach is rolling, and I know there’s no way I’ll survive this if I’m not already dead. I crawl from my bed, with a brief thought about not even remembering HOW I got home or into bed. I drag myself to the bathroom as quickly as I can. My whole body hurts. What the hell happened to me?! I make it the toilet just in time to bring up the remnants of my stomach. There’s not much there, when was the last time I ate? Wait, God if my head would stop pounding for a second I could maybe think straight. It’s not just the pounding in my
head, it’s a pounding in my ears almost like it’s vibrating my apartment. I can’t even string a coherent thought. I hear my name being called. Who is calling me? I must be hallucinating. “Nate!” I jerk my head up from the toilet long enough to see my dad standing at the doorway. “Ahhhh, Dad, I’m not feeling all that great right now. Maybe you could come back later?”

“Nate, damn it, your mom and I have been calling you and texting you for a whole 24 hours. At first we thought you were still with Elizabeth, but after a while we just got worried. I was over here earlier and couldn’t get you to even come to the door. I had to go home and find the spare key and come back. Christ, Nate, your mom has herself convinced that you’re dead or you’ve run off to elope. Now I get to go home and tell her that she’s been worried sick over nothing more serious than a bad hangover?! This isn’t like you, Nate! You get yourself straightened up and then come to the house to talk to your mother. She deserves to see you and you deserve your ass handed to you!”

Dad left and I fell asleep on the bathroom floor. I don’t know how long I slept, but I was able to get a few partially lucent thoughts to stick together in my head even though it was still pounding. I dragged myself to my bed and checked my phone. Fifty-six calls from my parents and 23 texts. I know my brain is rattled right now, I know I feel like a drug addict who is waking from a bad hit, but what I don’t know is why my parents have been desperately trying to reach me and there’s not a single call or text from Libby. A feeling of dread settles in my stomach, but I push it away. If I’m just sick, maybe Libby got the same thing, and she’s in bed sick like me. That would make total sense why she’s not called or texted. I bet she’s wondering why I haven’t called or texted her. I better contact her before I do anything else. I try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail. I text quickly:

ME:
Hey Libby-girl. Sorry I’ve not contacted you. I’m guessing you’re as sick as me. My parents said they’d been trying to get hold of me for over 24 hours, so I guess I was really out of it. I’m awake now, and I feel terrible, but I’m at least among the living again. If you’re feeling up to it, why don’t you come over in a while. We can hang out until our date this evening. I have to go talk to my mom because she’s been scared I died or eloped to Vegas with you!  Text back so I know you’re ok.

I waited a bit for a response from Libby, but nothing comes. That’s not like her, so I start to worry that maybe she’s sicker than I was.  I text her again:

ME
: Hey baby, if you’re still sick, just hit a quick reply and then I’ll let you rest. I’m just worried about you.

I doze a bit on my bed, trying to put together the last 24+ hours. I don’t remember much from the day before yesterday . I went to Audrey’s with Libby, it sucked, but I did it for Libby. Libby had to leave to go to the center. I only had one glass of wine, but I got wasted really quickly. Oh God, here comes more; luckily, I make it to the bathroom in time. After I’ve heaved all I have left into the toilet, I crawl back to bed. I try to clear my mind so that the jagged edges of my thoughts will start to fit together in some semblance of order. Slowly, I start to piece the hellish mystery together. I let the bits and pieces of last night, no, the night before last come creeping back into my mind. As the nightmare plays out, tears come to my eyes. What the hell happened? How did I end up having sex with Audrey?! There’s NO WAY I would have done that at all, especially knowing it would hurt Libby. Wait, I remember thinking that I felt drugged and wondering if there was any way I could get Libby to hear me out. Could I have really been drugged? Would Audrey really stoop that low? FUCK! My sweet Libby walked in on another guy she was dating fucking her sister. She’s got to be devastated. Damn it! Damn you, Audrey! I needed to talk to Libby, but would she even let me near her? I doubt it. No wonder she hasn’t contacted me or replied to my texts! Hell, she shouldn’t let me near her! I hate myself for doing this to her. I know that, if I WAS drugged, it’s not completely my fault, but I still had my dick in her sister, again, and that’s got to be killing her. I need Libby to forgive me, but I also need to seriously think about this relationship (or lack thereof now, thanks to Audrey) because I’m not sure I can date Libby since her sister is a fucking nutcase. Who am I kidding? Dating Libby isn’t even going to be a choice anymore. But, I have to get her to forgive me and understand.

After a shower, I sat on the couch replaying the facts that I knew were true and I kept coming back to my first theory which involved Audrey drugging me. Did she drug Libby too? Is that why Libby was so lightheaded and couldn’t drive my Jeep to the center? Even though I don’t want to think about it, the word rape is flitting through my mind like a cracked-out little butterfly. I’m a grown man. I’m fit and healthy but, if Audrey did what I think she did, I was basically raped. A woman had sex with me and I had no control over my body. I felt a new rush of nausea overtake me and I suddenly had a brand new understanding of the shame and dirtiness a rape victim experiences. I hated that I had no control over what happened. I felt ashamed that my body had reacted to Audrey that way. I didn’t want her, I didn’t want sex, yet my body responded as if I did. I guess it’s a darn good thing that I’d already set up those sessions with my new therapist because it appears that I’m going to need him for more than just anger issues.

A knock on my door brings me out of my contemplations. I open the door and almost fall over in relief when I see Libby on my door step. She looks like death warmed over and I can tell by the look on her face when she sees me that I don’t look any better. My heart and stomach both lurch and drop at the broken hearted look I see on Libby’s face. Aside from being drugged and date raped by Audrey, I’m not sure there’s a more devastating nightmare than knowing I hurt Libby and predicting that this is her goodbye to me.

“Nate, I’m not going to come in, I think I have the flu. I know we were supposed to go out tonight, but based on the fact that I’m sick and you were fucking my sister the last time I saw you, I don’t think another date is a good idea. In fact, as much as I had hoped this thing between us was going somewhere, I think it’s best if we stop seeing each other completely. I was having
a hard time thinking about you having sex with my sister before you knew me; I can’t get over you fucking my sister while you were dating me. Good-bye, Nate.” Libby turned on her heal, with angry tears in her eyes, and started to leave.

Ok, she was pissed. I could work with pissed. “Libby, wait. You don’t have to come in, but I don’t think you have the flu, Libby-girl. Can you hear me out, please? If you’re cold out here, you can come in, wrap up in a blanket, get some tea, and just listen. If, in the end, you don’t believe me, you can leave and we can be over. Please, Libby.”

I saw the wavering look in her eyes. She was mad and she was hurt, but she still wanted this to work, I could tell that she didn’t completely believe that I would have betrayed her that way. “Fine, I’m freezing and tea sounds good. But, Nate, the image of you fucking my sister is burned in my mind so there’s not much chance of you convincing me of anything.” Libby walked through the door and bundled up on the couch with a blanket. I went and got her some hot tea. Five minutes later we were seated in my living room, much farther apart than I would have liked, but I took what I could get.

“Libby, first, I need you to know that I don’t recall 100% of the night, but I do know that I hurt you, albeit it without meaning to, and I want to apologize. Second, I don’t want to be rude, but I can’t stand your sister. I’m not sure hate is even a strong enough word. Seriously, there have been times when I’ve questioned dating you because of Audrey. She’s a mess and I truly don’t know if I can be around her. That said
, I may have screwed this up so badly that it’s not an issue, but I need you to know that there’s no way on God’s green Earth I would have had sex with Audrey again. The first time was bad enough, I would never have done that again even if you weren’t in the picture. But, Libby, you ARE in the picture. You’re in the picture I have for my future. I would have NEVER had sex with her, on her couch, in her house, knowing you’d be coming back any second. You know your sister, you know me, if you think about this enough, you’re going to know that Audrey had something to do with this and that you and I were just innocent victims in her twisted mind games. So, all that being said, my theory is that Audrey slipped something in our drinks. I can barely remember details from that night, but I remember being freaked out that I couldn’t move. I could hardly keep my eyes open, I couldn’t speak clearly. One of the last thoughts in my mind was I felt like I was drugged. I only drank one glass of wine. I think Audrey had put something in both our drinks, mine obviously had more. Heck, she may have had something to do with the phone call you got. I was completely out of it until my dad pounded on my door like a madman this morning. I had missed 56 calls and 23 texts from my parents. I don’t even know how I got home that night.” I stopped talking because I could see Libby shutting down. She was shaking her head and I knew she didn’t believe me. I wasn’t done, but I knew she was going to need some time and would need to come to her own conclusions.

“Libby, I know you’re going to need some time. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I will probably curl up in my room for a while and contemplate what basically constitutes me being raped by a girl I can’t stand in front of a girl I could possibly love.  Think about that night. Think about Audrey and how she’s treated you your whole life. Think of how messed up she is and how she wants to control every situation. If you come to the conclusion that you and I were puppets in her fucked up little power game, please
come talk to me. I don’t know that we can salvage this whole thing. Audrey will always be your sister. You will always have the knowledge and image of her and me together. We’ve both been hurt by her. Can we move on? I don’t know, but I want us to at least move past this part because this part sucks.”

Libby stood, folded the blanket, and started to cry. “I don’t want this to be the end, Nate. You are an amazing guy and I want to move past my crazy sister fucking up my life. But, she’s my sister, Nate. She’s mean and she’s a bitch and she’s a bully, but I don’t think she would actually drug me or anyone else. First, where would Audrey get drugs? Second, she said you drank like three glasses of wine. Third, she’s never physically hurt
me, she’d have to know that drugging someone is dangerous. Audrey is mean, but she’d never do something like this. Never. You’re right, this part sucks, hopefully we can move past this and at least be friends. I can’t imagine not having you in my life, and I’d hate to stop seeing Nicky.” A look of dismay shadowed Libby’s face. “Oh, God, he’s going to be so upset. Nate, let’s take a few days and talk about it later, ok?” Libby walked to me and wrapped her arms around my waist and buried her face in my chest. I felt it then, in that moment, with her arms around me and her face breathing me in, this wasn’t over. However, we had a long road to get over the hurt and betrayal. The first step was for Libby to accept the betrayal of her sister. I knew she was strong enough to do this, my doubts came with knowing Libby would have to accept the type of person her sister was.

Now, my first step, at least for today, is to go apologize to my parents for scaring them. Just how much should I share with them? I don’t want them to think I did that to them over a simple hangover, but I also don’t know if it’s right to involve them in something as crazy as what is happening.