Page 64 of I Blame the Alcohol

Cody’s pool-bound confession echoes through my mind and I grasp at it, seeking reassurance in a situation that is anything but reassuring.

“Stella, could you give Cody and me a moment? There are some things we need to discuss.” The underliningman-to-mannearly has me rolling my eyes again, but I refrain, not wanting to steal Lou’s signature reaction.

“Considering I am 50 percent of this situation I feel it’s only fair I get a say in whatever goes on here.”

Mo sighs, “Stella, don’t be difficult. Give me two minutes to talk to Ellsworth and if I’m happy with his response, then he’s all yours.”

“If you’re happy with his responses? Since when do the guys who date me need to pass an interview?”

Cody clears his throat and I blush, realizing the slip-up.

“I mean, the guys who have the potential to date me. The ones who might be interested.” My face is getting hotter the more I stammer, so I change tactics. “Whatever! You both know what I’m trying to say here.”

Not my smoothest comeback, but it broke the cycle.

“Stel.” Cody gives my hand a squeeze, “Give me two minutes with Mo. He deserves an explanation.”

“Does my explanation not count for anything?”

Cody’s mouth quirks up in the smallest smile, “It counts for everything. But right now, this is about me breaking his trust, and that’s something I have to face on my own.”

I huff, “You are both misogynistic idiots.” Turning on my heel, I stomp from the room and throw one last comment over my shoulder.

“Cody better not come back with a black eye.”

Their voices fade as I leave the kitchen, my angry footsteps getting swallowed up by the lush carpet in the corridor. I reach my bedroom door, but my irritation has me feeling restless enough to keep going until I reach Mo’s bedroom on the same floor.

While my bedroom was more Barbie Dreamhouse inspired, Mo’s was inspired by the ocean. His childhood was consumed with weekend sailing trips with my father, and his bedroom walls reflected that.

Pushing open the door, I’m surprised to see sailors and seagulls still gracing the walls. Mo’s bedroom looks identical to the one from my memories, and for a moment, it feels as though I stepped into a time capsule.

“Come on, Stella!” Mo’s grinning face twirls by mine as he follows mother around the dinner table. Mother laughs, swinging her hips to the music pounding through the speakers, cheering on an 8-year-old Mo as he climbs onto the table for a solo.

“No fair!” Immediately racing for a chair to climb up on, I scramble up next to my brother.

“Get down from there.” Father’s deep voice breaks through the music, causing both Mo and I to freeze mid tabletop performance.

Mother laughs, “Let them be, Jonathan. They’re just having fun.” The scowl drops from his face as she shimmies over and loops her arms around his neck.

“Dance with me handsome.”

Father’s entire demeanour changes as he smiles, taking mother’s hand and stepping in time to the music.

“How is it every time I come home from work, you three are always dancing?”

Mother grins and pulls father towards the dinner table. “Everything is better when you’re dancing. That’s just a fact of life.”

Mo and I clap and cheer as mother joins us on the wooden table. Father shakes his head and watches us with a smile.

Sporadic buzzing pulls me from the past, drawing me closer to the nightstand next to Mo’s nautical themed bedspread. Although his décor remains untouched since my mother was alive, the brand-new iPhone and shiny cufflinks strewn across the desk attest to the older version of my brother residing here.

The phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up with a list of notifications. My face is already programmed in Mo’s phone for facial recognition, so with a quick swipe of my finger, I’m in.

CARTER: Thanks for last night, we should do that again sometime ;)

BRIAN: Bash going down next Tuesday, you in?

STEPHANIE: I’m going to be in town next week if you’re interested…

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