Page 3 of Missing Pieces

Chapter Three

There was a ringing in my head that would not stop. I start smacking the clock next to my bed, but the ringing keeps going. I must have finally hit the damn thing because eventually it did stop. I roll over in bed and remember I was in a cheap hotel room in bumblefuck Tennessee. The incessant ringing sound begins again and I realize it’s the phone.

I pick it up and don’t even say a word before my mother starts talking, “Sweetheart are you alright? I’ve been trying to reach you for over an hour and the woman at the front desk of the hotel said she could only transfer my call to your room. I thought you may have died or something so I wanted her to check on you but she wouldn’t. I think you should speak to the manager there or maybe I’ll call them. That is not the kind of service you should expect in a nice hotel. Speaking of, I never even heard of the hotel chain. Where are you? Atlanta? Or did you stop in Nash—”

“Mom, please stop. I already have a headache and you are just making it worse,” I groan. I should have just unplugged the phone from the wall.

“Why do you have a headache? I hope you were not out drinking last night. You have been doing that far too much lately and it will not help your already diminishing reputation. Also, you have to drive today, and I do not want you to get into an accident. You need to be more responsible.”

I swear my mother could make a brick wall want to commit suicide. “Mom, I am not driving anywhere today or the next two days for that matter. My—”

“What’s wrong? Did you get into an accident? Are you alright? Maybe your father and I should fly home and –”

“Mom –”

“Or maybe you could call –”

“Mom –”

“I need to know everything th—”

“MOM! Stop, please I am alright. My car broke down. That’s all. I am in a small town and I just need to get my car fixed, but the owner won’t be back until Wednesday. And fly home? Where are you? I thought you were at home.”

“Oh sweetheart, I forgot to tell you. Your father and I decided we needed some time away from our busy lives.” I hold back a snort knowing her busy life consisted of squeezing in a manicure between shopping and lunch dates. “We are in Thailand and it is so beautiful. I actually just got back from the spa –“

“THAILAND!” I yell into the phone. “You cannot be in Thailand. My car broke down and I don’t have money to fix it.”

I hear my mother sigh into the phone, “Well I do not know what you want from us. You got yourself into this mess, you need to get yourself out.”

“I did not intend for my car to break down in the middle of nowhere Tennessee. And you know I have little money from the divo—”

“I wasn’t talking about your car. Your divorce is a mess that never should have happened.”

My face starts to turn red in anger. This was not how I wanted to start my morning. The hangover was one thing, but my mother’s idiocy was a whole other problem I could not handle. “I am not getting into this with you, Mother. But like I said before the divorce was not my fault.”

“Well, you could have dealt with your husband’s indiscretions in a better way. Everyone else does. I don’t see your friends getting divorces like you did.”

“Forget it, Mom. I am not talking about this with you right now. I need some Advil and a large cup of coffee. Not a lesson on dealing with cheating scumbags.”

“Your husband is not a scumbag. He is a respectable businessman.” This lecture was getting out of hand and I wished I could have thrown the phone across the room, but that was an incidental I couldn’t afford. “If you are stuck in a town because of your car maybe you should stay there and get a job. Oh! It would be like a new adventure!”

I was over this conversation. “Fine, Mom. I don’t need your help I’ll get through this just like I get through everything else.”

“Good for you sweetheart.”

What I didn’t tell her was I was going to get through it the same way I got through it last night. Lots of whiskey. Before I let her speak another word, I tell her to send me a postcard and slam the phone on the receiver. Lucky me, the receiver cracked. I roll over and scream into the pillow. And then I do just what I told myself I would do. I take two Advil, slam a glass of water, put on pants and walk straight back to the bar, my new favorite place.

* * *

The bar was surprisingly empty, I thought, until I look at my watch and see it was two-thirty in the afternoon. I really was lowering my standards by the day. I slide into a seat at the end of the bar, opposite from what I could only assume were the town drunks. The bartender walks over to me, I vaguely remembered him from the night before and order a beer and a double shot of whiskey. He grunts and walks away to fill my drink. When he came back, he slams my beer down on the bar, sloshing the glorious hangover cure all over and reluctantly pours my whiskey.

“Would you like me to add this to your running tab here, sweetheart?” he smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Tab?” I asked. Please do not tell me I was so drunk last night I didn’t pay my tab.

“I’ll wait ‘til Trace gets here to discuss that with you. In the meantime, I’ll just add to it.” Before I could ask him who the hell Trace was, he turns and stalks toward the coolers to continue stocking bottles.

Seven beers later I was finally feeling like myself again. Not the girl who lost everything and wanted to cower in a hole but the woman from before. The social butterfly sans hangover. People are slowly starting to flood the bar and a band is setting up in the corner. I look at my watch again, surprised to see it is past eight o’clock, or at least it looks like it is past eight, my vision is starting to blur a bit.

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