The Hysterics (6 page)

              I hadn’t made it two steps into my apartment before my phone chimed at me with a text. I slid it open and couldn’t help but smile when I read the message.

Dane: I know the answer, but how’re you feeling?

Me: Fine. Seriously. I vow to never order lunch at that Thai place on 5
th
ever again.

Dane: Alright. Well we never got to have our “real” date.

Me: Now whose fault is that, Romeo?

Dane: Yours! You fainted when we were hanging out last night, remember we were supposed to go out after we hung out with the guys.

Me: Alright. I’ll take that one.

Dane: Rain check?

Me: Sure. Sounds like a plan.

Dane: Tomorrow night. I know where you live now so good luck saying no.

Me: Are you a serial killer?

Dane: Do you think you would have made it through last night if I was?

Me: Good point. You didn’t deny it though…

Dane: I am not a serial killer. Promise.

Me: Ok. Good. See you tomorrow night, Romeo.

Dane: It’s a date.

              After a hot shower, a bowl of Campbell’s chicken noodle with the cute little star noodles that I had always loved whenever I was sick as a kid, and lying on my couch for a while watching a few episodes of True Life on MTV, I finally started to feel better. I checked my phone for the time and seeing that it was only seven thirty, I decided to call my best friend. Homesickness was not something that really happened to me. I was used to being on the road with Regicide Assisted, but missing my bandmates was something I wasn’t equipped for, especially Starr, the bassist.

Starr had been my best friend since we were toddlers. Our moms went to college together and raised us to be practically sisters.

              I listened to the line ring a few times and then it went to her voicemail. “Hi, you’ve reached Starr. You know what to do at the beep. Have a killer day.”

              “Tag! You’re it. Miss your face and I hope you’re out spanking the butt of that hot roadie from last summer. Everything is good here. Met a guy. Call me. Love you, Starr.”

              I slipped under the covers and let myself doze off just enough to not care when my phone chimed on the desk with a text message. A few hours later I was woken up to the squawking of a duck—Starr’s designated ringtone on my phone. I threw off the covers and leapt across the room.

              “Starr!”

              “Hey, slut!” she slurred. “Miss you, bestie! How’re you?”

              “Good, just sleeping. You know, like normal people do at five thirty in the morning on a Saturday.”

              “Pish. I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” She cackled into the receiver.

              “Yeah. Well I felt dead today. Get this, I puked in front of my freaking boss!”

              “Gross! Are you prego? Prego peoples do that, ya know.” She started giggling at someone. “Jake, stop it, I’m on the fucking phone!” she yelled, trying to make my band’s former head roadie stop trying to play tonsil hockey with her for a moment.

              “I am not pregnant, Starr. You have to have sex to get pregnant.”

              She ignored my comment and jumped to her next topic without missing a beat. “I saw the slimeball today!”

              “Ew. Where did you run into Rhodes?” Kenneth Rhodes, my ex-boyfriend. I had thought I loved him, and then I realized that I loved getting high with him. I kicked the habit and kicked the guy. Right then all of it came falling onto me like a ton of bricks. “Starr, I need to run. Not feeling great again. Talk soon?”

              “Ok, Fal-uh. Ok, love you, bye!” With that the line went dead and I went to lie in bed for a sleepless night of worrying the crap out of myself.

Chapter eight

positive

FALLON

Those three minutes felt like years while I sat on my toilet, panties around my ankles, praying—I’d never considered myself too religious, but I figured I needed all the help I could get. The egg timer I’d set on the counter buzzed, urging me to look over at the little white stick that was going to tell me my future. Right when I saw that stupid happy face mocking me, I got physically sick. 

Great, I have many more months of this shit to look forward to
.

Starr’s comment from the night before had replayed in my head over and over all morning until I broke down and ran to the drugstore on the corner. Now, here I was wading in the muck of her drunk ass being right.

I could not believe that I’d just found out my entire life was going to be turned upside down again. Only a few months ago, I had moved away from the mess of my past, stupidly thinking I could get away from all of it and finally have a fresh start. Now I was going to have a constant reminder and it was growing inside my own belly.  

I stomped my bare feet in a childlike tantrum in my bathroom—screaming, crying, and damning my rash decision of letting my ex come visit me for one last hurrah. What a joke that was now. I knew he was a deadbeat junkie that cared more about his daily fix, guitars, and tattoos than whether I was alive or dead. He would not even be able to remember this if I tried to call him; the cocaine swimming in his blood would push this terrible thought right into the ‘never calling the bitch again’ file in his brain. I’ve been there a few times before, only being contacted for booty calls at four in the morning.

Before I became the assistant editor of Raging Underground, I was a deadbeat musician just like my ex. I was the drummer in a punk band, partying too hard and not carrying about anything important. The last three months away from all that had been amazing, except for the weekend that Rhodes came with the rest of my stuff a little over a month ago. I needed someone to help me get the junk from my parents’ house into my new apartment and he was the only person I could trust to not blow my cover.  We worked out a deal and now I was neck deep in that terrible mistake. 

Working with writers and creative geniuses had been so inspiring. I was writing again and making good connections, even some friends. For the first time in as long as I could remember, I was really happy. Now I stood with one night’s passions carrying consequences that could threaten all my hard work.

I turned the shower on and was starting to take my pajamas off when my cell vibrated next to my toothbrush. Looking down, my heart sank again, remembering I had promised to go on a date with Dane. I opened the text from him.

Dane: Happy Saturday! I hope you’re feeling better.

Me: Yeah, I’m alright. Thanks for checking in.

Dane: You’re welcome. I’ll pick you up at 7! 

After a moment of hesitation, I responded, explaining that I was not feeling up to going out, using the good old time of the month excuse.

Climbing into the shower, I tried to convince myself that I’d done the right thing. There was no way I was going to be able to hide my new predicament from my sexy, sweet, amazing coworker. I blushed as I thought about the night I went to their show, when Dane kissed me for the first time and how comfortable he made me feel when I’d stayed the night at his apartment. I had made him agree to take me on a date, and here he was trying to hold up his end of the bargain and I was bailing. It felt fucking awful. Not to mention that I actually had started to form real feelings for Dane. I really wanted a friend right then, and I hated lying.

After scrubbing myself harder and longer than usual with my loofa, trying to get clean after how dirty I felt, I climbed out of the tub to see a missed call and voicemail from Dane. I pictured his sensual crooked smile and his brilliant smoky eyes as I listened to his soft, manly voice curl around his message: “There are no rain checks or excuses that will get you out of this one. Too bad for you, I know where you live, remember? See you at seven, if you don’t want to go out, I’ll bring the date to you. Wear sweats, don’t put makeup on, and I’ll bring the ice cream.”

I couldn't help but giggle at how amazingly adorable his gesture was. I got excited with schoolgirl butterflies crashing around in my already fragile stomach. And there it came, the second bout of sickness for this morning. It wasn't even ten.

This is going to be a long pregnancy!

After my giggles and butterflies subsided, I called Dane back. The warm tones of his voice sent goose bumps all over my body while we discussed our new plans for the night. After agreeing to let Dane handle the details and promising to let him into my apartment, we hung up and I did a happy dance around my room.

I need to get a handle on these mood swings.

One minute I was ready to crawl under my bed and hide from the world, and the next the world was full of rainbows and cotton candy colored unicorns.

My Saturday consisted of crying, cleaning, wallowing, and frantically trying to figure out a plan of action. The crying came in spurts as more of the reality settled and marinated in my brain. Being in my twenties and just starting my career was scary enough. On top of that, in about eight months I would not only be taking care of myself but another person. I had just learned how to be responsible enough to not eat ice cream for breakfast, for crying out loud.

While wallowing in my self-pity, I cleaned up from my messy habits. There were no longer clothes all over the floor of my room, the garbage cans were all emptied, the toilet and shower were scrubbed, and the floors were mopped. I even cleaned out my fridge and used some elbow grease on my kitchen counters. 

A terrible sinking feeling came over me right around three in the afternoon when my mother’s name appeared across my phone’s screen. I was not sure if I was even stable enough to talk to her, but I knew it had been a few days since we had spoken and she must have been worried about me. 

To ease her mind, I answered, determined to make the call short and sweet and to not mention her new title as a grandma. 

“Hi, Mom.” I started pacing around my living room.

“Honey! Finally! It’s been days.” Her voice had more worry behind it than normal.

“I’ve been busy.”

“Payton isn’t working you too hard, is he?”

“No. I love the job.”

“Good! How’s the weather?” Typical small talk with mom; she wasn’t too deep of a person. I don’t even think she would be able to remember my favorite color (Kelly green) or where I actually lived in Chicago.

“Fine, getting warmer.”

“Well, honey, that’s great.”

“How’re you?”

“Fine. We started a bridge club in the neighborhood. That’s been entertaining.”

“How sophisticated of you.”

“Well, it’s a nice pastime while Sam is off working all of the time.” I felt bad. I knew my mom was lonely but I hadn’t really been home since I was nineteen. She was used to not having me around anymore by now.

“Gotta run into the office to get some stuff done, love you.”

“Love you, too, honey. Talk soon.”

Click. Good—short and sweet. I sighed with relief and started to work on making the grout in my bathroom white again.

I jumped in the shower once more right at six to get ready for Dane’s arrival. I figured putting in a little effort on my appearance was a good idea for a first date, even if it was as casual as sitting on my couch all night talking. Excitement and butterflies returned as I pulled on my comfortable jeans and a loose-fitting black V-neck. I straightened my hair and put a little makeup on to hide how puffy my eyes were from all my crying episodes throughout the day. As I put on the final touches of mascara, my doorbell rang—there went the flutters again, crashing around in my stomach.

Please, don’t puke in front of him again!

DANE

Standing outside Fallon’s door was making my nerves boil more than I had ever felt before. I still couldn’t freaking figure out what was so different about her, but I knew she was something special. She was more than just hot, insanely talented, and completely mysterious; under it all there was something so much more. 

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself back into my confidence.

Here goes nothing.

I pressed the doorbell and could hear it chime inside Fallon’s apartment. Suddenly, Fallon was standing in the doorway, a slight hint of makeup and perfume making her glow in her own beautiful way. Her smile widened as I held up the bags of Chinese takeout, pints of rocky road, and a bottle of red wine.

“I had to take a guess on what you’d like, and hopefully I’m at least not too far off.” I could feel my face turning hot and had to divert my gaze from her bouncing tits, which were about to pop out of her V-neck. She practically jumped into hugging me around my neck.

“Thanks for this! You’re sweet and rocky road is my favorite!” She took the bags out of my hands and headed into the kitchen while I was still glued to her doorway like a crazy person.

A sigh of relief spread over me as I took in a deep whiff of the incredible scent that lingered in the space she had just left and made my way into her living room.

Her apartment was nothing like I had pictured. I was halfway expecting grunge posters on the walls, a drum set where the couch was, and it to smell more like a bar than lemon Pledge. Surprisingly, Fallon’s apartment was well kept with nice leather and wooden furniture. The only touch of whimsy was the bright green and orange area rug under the coffee table. Even being so clean, there was something cozy about the space and that helped relax me more. 

Come on, man, get a freaking grip! She’s just a broad for crying out loud!

Fallon popped back into the room from the kitchen with two plates, one wine glass, and a water bottle, then sat Indian-style on the floor to divvy up the food. 

I took the seat next to her, eyeing the water bottle on the table. “Am I not allowed to drink or something?” I joked, taking the water bottle and breaking the seal.

She grabbed it from me, smiling shy. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well this morning…” She trailed off and broke eye contact with me before continuing, “I don’t think I will be drinking for a while.”

I took the bottle of wine and glass, getting up from the floor. “Well then we’ll save this for when you’re feeling better.” 

I walked into her kitchen and rummaged in the fridge for another bottle of water, turning around just in time to catch Fallon wiping her cheeks. I was taken aback a little.
Maybe I should have given her that rain check after all.

“Hey, Fae.” I paused halfway into the living room, rubbing the back of my neck, not sure what to say next. “Ugh, you want me to leave? I didn’t mean to force this on you.”

My eyes met hers. They were piercing with sadness, or maybe loneliness, longing for something I couldn’t put my finger on.

She clambered to her feet and got almost toe to toe with me before responding, taking my hand in hers very gently. “To be honest, I didn’t want you to be here, I thought I wanted to be alone…” Stopping to search for words, she stared down at our hands. “But actually, I really don’t want to be alone right now. If I promise not to cry, will you stay and not ask me what’s wrong?”

All I could do was nod and then wrap her small frame in my arms. I had never wanted to run away and stay as still as possible all at once before, and the sensation was completely terrifying.

FALLON

As I stood in my living room, breathing in Dane's T-shirt and begging the tears to stop running down my cheeks, I couldn’t help but be shocked he hadn't bolted yet. I was a complete basket case and could not understand how his arms were still wrapped around me. I knew that if he let go my legs might give out from my mind swimming through this terrible situation, that all of the energy was completely zapped from my body. I could feel my knees balking and my throat tightening while I clung to his blue T-shirt for dear life. It had all just started to be real to me, and the near future completely terrified me.

"Fae, I'm not going to pry, but can I help you get to the couch? You need to sit and relax a bit." His voice was low and sweet, with a slight hint of I-have-no-fucking-clue-what-to-do-right-now. I was lost for words and I stayed paralyzed, scared to move, scared that if I let go of the only source of comfort I had, it would vanish into thin air. 

Bending down and lifting my chin to make sure he made eye contact with me, Dane whispered, "I promise, I will not leave your side until you kick me out." He half-assed a cute grin and I nodded through the sobs.

In one swift motion I was being whisked toward the couch in Dane's strong, tattooed arms. He put me down with my head in his lap and stroked my hair in silence. He fumbled through channels until he found some idiotic grownups-only cartoon with a dumbass dad strangling his smartass son. I chuckled a little at the stupidity of the show and was so thankful that Dane hadn't been completely freaked out by my reaction to something as simple as not drinking a glass of wine. 

I know it's said that pregnant women are allowed one glass every now and then, but in my state I could not be trusted. If that burgundy liquid slid passed my lips once, I was sure to down the entire bottle in one fell swoop. Staying away from it completely was my only hope of not drowning this little problem away and I was not about to do something so selfish. My stomach churned as I thought about the irony of learning abstinence at this stage of the game, but I figured it was better late than never.