Page 39 of Don't Fall

I know. But I can’t say it. Can’t even think it. Or all the feelings I just barely shoved back down will come furling back to the surface and this time, I don’t have Drea around to help me get a grip again. So losing it is not an option.

“I’m sorry, Miriam. Just...first week of school...trying to get back into the swing of things. It’s been a little rough.” The understatement of the century.

“Is that why you’re avoiding Meredith too?” she asks.

“Um, sure.” Why not. It could be the reason.

“You need to call her, Tessa. It’s about the condo,” her serious tone makes me want to hang up more than just about anything. “It’s important.”

“I will. When I have time.”

“Make time,” she presses. But, I’ve reached the parking lot. I’m fresh out.

The day drags on in slow motion after I make it to campus. Today is the longest day of my week anyway, which isn’t helping matters any.

I feel like my head is in a fog I can’t escape and no matter how hard I try to shake it off or stomp it out, my knees wobble under me like Jell-O every time I move.

By the time I get to work, I’ve had enough with stewing and I’m ready to be productive. Money. I have a constant need for it, and if Meredith has her way, that need will likely increase in the coming weeks and months.

“You look ready to rip someone’s dick off,” Cara observes as she’s waiting on drinks for her newest table. A bunch of golfers, retired and ready to get hammered. I like the old dudes. They make for a solid, laid back happy hour and they don’t care that I don’t giggle.

“Bad day,” I mumble, dropping two sticks of celery into each Bloody Mary. “But nothing a good dick ripping wouldn’t cure.” I smirk. Cara says some of the weirdest stuff considering she spends all day with toddlers. Weirder still is that it’s always spot on in its crass and blunt way.

“I’ve got a few dicks over in the corner that probably hang limp anyway. Don’t think anyone would mind seeing them go,” she says casually, filling her tray, her eyes lit up in wicked delight.

“You’re nuts.”

“No, their nuts.” She wiggles her brow and grins broadly.

I roll my eyes and laugh. “God, who lets you near their kids?!”

“A lot of people who probably shouldn’t,” she says, straight-faced for all of three seconds. Then she’s grinning again. “Now how about that last bottle of Bud so I can get back over to limp-dick city.”

“I’m on it.”

“Speaking of being on it. Who’d you land on top of last night when all was said and done?”

“Excuse me?” My hand slips and the bottle cap goes flying halfway across the bar.

“Girl, don’t even try me. I was here. I saw you in action. I know you didn’t go home empty-handed last night. Though, that would explain the foul mood you’re in.” She takes the long neck bottle from me and waits for my response.

“For your information, I went home alone. Well, sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I went home alone,” I reiterate, not interested in filling her in on the complicated details of my current life.

“And then?”

I hiss in exasperation. “And then...I went to bed.”

Cara leans in close. “Yeah, but whose bed?” She winks and takes off, leaving me to tend to the three guys who just came and had a seat at the bar. I’m so flustered, the first draft I pour for them is straight foam. I blame it on the frozen glass and move it along. After that, things slowly improve, mostly because I’m too busy to get distracted and screw up any more.

Happy Hour picks up and Cara and I hardly have time to chat after that. Sometime around nine at night, things slow down long enough for us to devour some cold Chinese food Cara’s husband was kind enough to drop off two hours earlier.

I’m slurping up slimy chow mein noodles when she starts in on me again. “Is he the reason you’re all dark and troubled Tessa today?”

“I’m not dark and troubled Tessa,” I grumble, mouth full.

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