Page 76 of Absorbed

Stacey nodded.

“You need to call Bob. You’re in no condition to work today.”

Stacey pushed her fingers into her eyelids and nodded again.

“Are you ready to tell me what’s going on?”

Stacey sat silent. Flashes of the night before crashed into each other in her mind. “Can we eat something first?”

Her mom nodded. She crossed to the kitchen and started putting slices of bread in the toaster.

Stacey grabbed the phone next to the couch and dialed 411 to get Bob’s home number.

“Hello?” Bob answered, chipper as ever.

“Hey Coach…” She attempted to clear her throat. “It’s Stacey.”

“Hey Stace. What’s up? All okay?”

“Not really.” She looked up at her mom who was watching her over her coffee cup. “Sorry, but I’m…I don’t think I can come in today.”

“Oh,” Bob said. After a long silence he exhaled. “I see.”

Stacey wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to say more or not. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

“Well, thanks for letting me know. Give me a call later if I need to figure out your shifts for tomorrow also, okay?”

“K… thanks, Coach.”

Stacey’s mom nodded as she hung up, and turned to butter the toast.

As Stacey sipped her 7-Up, it felt as though needles were piercing her abdomen. She attempted to swallow small bites of bread. Her mouth tasted like an ashtray, but her tongue couldn’t taste the food.

“What did you drink?” Her mother stared across the couch at her, her toast finished and plate set aside. Murphy was curled up between them.

“Gold-slogger? After that…I’m not sure.”

“You meanGoldschläger?”

Stacey shrugged, looking at the crumbs on her lap.

“Planning to do that again?”

Stacey shook her head.

“When did you start smoking?”

Stacey studied her mom’s face.

Her mother shook her head ever so slightly. Stacey knew it was her mother’s most fed-up way of saying “Don’t bother lying anymore.”

“I got them over the weekend. But I don’t want to smoke anymore, either.”

Her mom lifted an eyebrow and nodded. “That’s wise.”

Stacey leaned forward and set her plate on the coffee table. She put her hand on the back of Murphy’s head and rubbed the fur between her fingers.

“You know, I was about your age when I snuck out with a stolen bottle of my parents’ gin.” Her mom sipped from her coffee mug.

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