Chapter 81
Nick awoke to the delicious smell of coffee. For a moment, he was disoriented; who would
be making coffee? Then his eyes
fluttered open, and he realized with a start that he was not in his own bed or
even his own house at all. In a flash,
some of the previous night’s events came back to him… meeting Leah at the bar,
kissing her in the alleyway, taking her home… sleeping with her?
With a jolt, he jerked upright and looked all around, his eyes
traveling instantly to the space on the other side of the bed. It was empty, but the sheets were wrinkled,
and there was a slight hollow where a sleeping body had recently been.
As his groggy brain became more aware of what was going on, he
realized with a flood of embarrassment that he was stark naked underneath the
single sheet that covered the lower half of his body.
Oh god… so he had slept with her. Leah, the tramp. Leah, the slut. Leah, the cheat.
Leah, the babe.
The alcohol had made a good portion of the night very hazy to
Nick, but never would he forget her passionate kisses, her caressing touch, the
feel of her slender, firm body in his arms… a perfect fit.
He shook his head, refusing to admit that he had enjoyed the
night. He was not going fall under the
witch’s spell yet again. She may have
worked her magic on him while alcohol had left him vulnerable, but it would not
last. Now he was sober (and also very
hungover, he realized, massaging his aching temples), and he was out of
there. He climbed quickly out of bed to
look for his clothes and had just spotted them in a heap across the room when
the door swung open. He immediately
ripped the sheet from the bed to cover himself, but Leah only smiled.
“Why so modest all of a sudden?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at
him.
He swallowed hard, trying to keep himself from staring at her
body. She was dressed in nothing but a
short robe made of thin, white satin that was tied very precariously around the
middle, exposing a lot of leg and a lot of cleavage. Forcing his eyes to stay trained on her face
and not drift downward to the noticeable swell of her breasts, he muttered, “I
gotta get going.”
“Already?” Leah stuck out
her bottom lip, pouting. “At least stay
for some coffee.”
“No,” Nick said stiffly.
“Why not?” she queried, looking at him through wide, innocent
eyes.
“Listen, Leah… whatever happened last night, shouldn’t have. You’ve got a boyfriend, and I… well, I…”
“You enjoyed it,” Leah interrupted with seductive smile. “Don’t tell me you didn’t.”
“I wouldn’t know; I was too drunk to remember it,” Nick shot back
truthfully.
“Well, trust me, you did.”
A smug grin spread slowly across her lips.
“Whatever. I gotta go; I
have a killer headache,” he mumbled.
“You want some aspirin?” she offered, her voice tinged with
sympathy.
“No, I want to go home,” answered Nick firmly. Clutching the sheet tightly to his body, he
crossed the room and picked up his clothes, then brushed past Leah and ducked
into the bathroom, dressing quickly. He
looked like hell, he realized as he caught sight of his reflection in the
vanity mirror. His skin pale, dark
circles underscoring his bloodshot eyes.
He turned on the faucet and splashed some water on his face, then pulled
his hat tightly over his bare head and left the bathroom.
He met up with Leah in the kitchen; she was pouring coffee into
two mugs.
“Here,” she said, handing one to him. “Black coffee. Drink.”
“No thanks.” He set it
promptly back down on the counter and walked swiftly to the door. “See you around,” he remarked flatly and was
out of the apartment before Leah could get another word out. He jogged down the hall, took the stairs to
the bottom level, and went outside. The
bright morning sunlight burned his eyes and made his splitting headache even
worse, but he braved it anyway, desperate to escape.
What the hell was I thinking? he thought,
angry with himself, as he climbed into his Durango and started the engine. He was really going to have to watch himself;
no more binge drinking and then going home with random skanks he met in
bars. Or worse, skanks that he knew,
skanks who had already screwed him over in more ways than one.
So much for his celebration.
Now he felt like shit, both physically and emotionally.
Not to mention, he realized as he got home and set foot in his
kitchen, he had already missed two doses of his new medications.
Good going, Nick, he scolded
himself, way to start off on the right foot with this remission business.
He felt absolutely disgusted with himself. He had been to hell and back in the past few
months, and now that things were finally returning to normal, he was fucking up
again, getting drunk off his ass, having unprotected sex with a cheating whore
of a stripper, and neglecting the medications that would keep him in remission,
if he was lucky.
Sighing, he glanced at the clock.
It was almost eleven, too late for his morning pills. But he had another set to take at noon, and
he vowed he would remember them this time.
He walked slowly out of the kitchen and into the foyer, kicking
off his shoes by the door, the only spot he could ever seem to find them
in. And as he turned to go upstairs, he
caught sight of the picture hanging on the wall. The beautiful ocean scene that he had just
recently reframed and put back up. It
looked good as new, set behind a piece of clear, flawless glass and surrounded
by a handsome frame. The water in the
painting seemed to be beckoning to him, and he thought maybe he’d take his boat
out later that day. The fresh air would
do him good, maybe help to relieve his hangover. And it would definitely help clear his mind.
But first, he needed a shower.
He trudged slowly up the stairs, hoping the hot water would improve his
mood, ease his headache, and cleanse more than just his body. After the shower, he would emerge refreshed
and rejuvenated, ready to take on the rest of the day and do his best to
correct last night’s blunders.
He was bound and determined to get his life back in order. To make himself healthy again, to move
forward with his career, and to reestablish everything else that had been put
on hold while he was sick.
Cancer had struck him down and left him broken. Broken, but not beyond repair. And now that he was convinced the worst was
behind him, he was going to put himself back together.
I, like a rock, sink
Sinking ‘til I hit the bottom
The water is much deeper than I thought
Nothing to swim with
Kicking but I keep sinking
A lesson that no one could have ever thought
‘Cause I can almost breathe the air
Right beyond my finger tips
I’ll turn around and pick up the pieces
One more push and I’ll be there
Back where I belong
I’ll turn around and pick up the pieces
I see the picture
Blurry but now it’s in focus
A fairy tale I purchased on my own
I finally wake up
Everything is better
A chance for me to open up and grow
‘Cause I can almost breathe the air
Right beyond my finger tips
I’ll turn around and pick up the pieces
One more push and I’ll be there
Back where I belong
I’ll turn around and pick up the pieces
- “Pieces” by Hoobastank
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