Page 64 of Loathe at First Sight

twenty-two

Anger Can Eat You Alive

Liz

“Eliza Lawson!” My mother calls as she comes storming into the inn.

Her voice makes my pounding headache even worse. I adjust the sunglasses that are shielding my eyes from the light.

“Mom, could you please keep it down?” I say in a hoarse voice.

“No! I will not keep it down! You and I are going to talk about last night.”

“Alright, but I have a massive hangover, so I’m kind of out of it.”

“Oh, you have a hangover? You poor thing, you.” Her tone suggests that she doesn’t feel bad for me at all. “What the hell were you thinking?”

Before I answer, I ask, “What did you hear?”

“I heard that you drank about a hundred dollars’ worth of booze—which you owe me by the way. I heard that you were dancing on a pool table. Oh, and I heard that you insulted practically everyone in town. Am I forgetting anything?”

I burp as I say, “No, I think that’s about it.”

“Is this funny to you?”

“No, Mom, it’s not funny. I got drunk, and people were being assholes. I just defended myself,” I say, only believing part of that is true.

“Eliza, I didn’t come here to listen to your excuses.”

I interrupt her. “Then, why did you come here, Mom?”

“To tell you to get your head out of your ass! I thought you were finally coming around to being back and starting over, yet here you are acting like a child.”

I’m fully aware that I was an idiot last night…in every sense of the word. I acted completely out of pocket. I wish I could blame it all on the booze, but I know it wasn’t the only contributing factor. I’ve been looking to say a lot of that stuff for a long time, but it shouldn’t have come out that way or at that time.

She points her finger at me. “You’re going to make this right. I’d suggest you start with Jack. You’re lucky he dragged you out of there before you got your ass kicked.”

That’s another thing I’m aware of. Last night, I was mad at him enough to spit nails. But now I see that maybe he did it because he was looking out for me.

Or he was just tired of my shit.

Either way, I’m glad he did it.

I just wish he could have done it before I drank half the bar.

“I plan on going to apologize, Mom. Right after I get off work.”

I expect her to argue and tell me to go do it now, but she doesn’t. Instead, she says, “You better,” and storms out the same way she came in.

I almost wish I got drunk enough last night to forget about everything that happened. But I remember all of it.

Me jumping up on the table.

Arguing with Max and Misty.

And then, asking Jack if he felt anything when he kissed me.

I’m not sure where that last one came from. I don’t give a fuck if he felt anything or not.

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