Page 62 of Weaponized

I dampen a washcloth with cold water and take it to my bedroom. My eyes are so swollen now, it’s hard to see. I drape the washcloth over my eyes and welcome the darkness. But, it’s hours before I fall into a fitful sleep.

Lying whore.

That’s me.

* * *

When I wake the next day, it’s after noon. I’ve missed my morning class, the one I have with Luca. I wonder if he showed up. Did he look for me?

“Jesus, Gráinne. You don’t get to ignore five phone calls and even more texts,” my brother growls. He’s standing over my bed, and while that would normally scare the hell out of me, I don’t react. “I thought something happened.” He’s annoyed.

Something did happen.

“You look like shit,” he sighs. “Are you sick?”

“Luca broke up with me,” I croak. I hear Rowan’s intake of breath.

“But why?” His voice doesn’t hide his shock.

“I will tell you everything, but not now, Row. I can’t.” And, damn it, the floodgates open again.

“Shit, G. Shit.” He climbs right into bed with me. My big brother holds me, rocks me gently. “I’m so sorry. It’s okay. You’ll be okay, deirfiúr. We’ll figure it out. I’m here.” He’s murmuring to me softly, stroking my back. I don’t know how long I cry, but Rowan stays by my side, whispering words of comfort.

When I next open my eyes, my room is dark and I’m alone. There is a glass of water and a couple Advil on my nightstand.I groan and move to take the pills. Every muscle in my body aches. I roll my neck from side to side. I take another huge gulp of water. I feel dehydrated. My head is pounding.

It suddenly dawns on me that I can hear voices in my apartment. A male and a female having a conversation. I slowly slide out of my bed and tiptoe to my door, listening more closely. I sigh when I recognize who is in my home.

I stop and use the toilet and startle when I see my reflection in the mirror. I splash cold water on my face to try to tame the puffiness, but it doesn’t help. I run a brush through my hair so at least it’s no longer sticking out in all directions. I peel off yesterday’s clothes and put on my robe. I exhale, steady my shoulders, and walk down my hall.

Rowan and my mother are sitting at my counter. My mother is truly a striking woman. She is in her early forties, but she could easily pass for my sister. Her platinum-blond hair is pulled into a low bun and her makeup and clothing are flawless, as always. There is not a wrinkle to be seen on her porcelain skin. She is the epitome of grace and sophistication. Right now, she is talking animatedly, hands moving, but she stops mid-sentence when she sees me.

“Gráinne! Look at you. My darling!” She comes rushing over to hug me. I peer over her shoulder to see my brother shrug at me.

“Look who came to visit,” he says flatly. “I told her you had the flu.”

The flu. Sure.

“Darling, you look dreadful. My poor girl! I’ve ordered some things for you. Ginger tea, eye masks, the extra soft tissues,some chicken soup from that deli I like. I can’t remember the name. Kathleen is taking care of it. Everything will be here within the hour.” She’s fussing over me, brushing my hair back from my face.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” I say dumbly. I have no idea why she is here, but she doesn’t keep me guessing long.

“You haven’t been answering my messages!” she chastises. “I had to stop by to check in!”

“She’s been puking, Mom. It’s not like she took a break to make phone calls,” my brother deadpans, earning “the look” from my mother.

“No need to be crass, Rowan. And, if she’s ill, you should have called me!”

Ah, yes. We should have called her. It’s true. My mother would want to know if I was under the weather. It would allow her to take care of me by doing what she does best: buying me a ton of things to show her love. I think she means well, in her way.

“I also wanted to visit with you both before I leave tomorrow. The girls and I are going to Milan for a spell.”

“Weren’t you just in Milan?” my brother asks. I stopped trying to keep up with my mother’s trips years ago.

“Yes, well, that was for Fashion Week. The wardrobe I was fitted for is finally ready. It may take a week—maybe two—to get everything squared away.” She sighs as if this is a huge burden. Who knows? For her, maybe it is. “Besides, your father has been in a state lately. It’s best to allow some space.”

I can only imagine the state my father has been in. It’s the angry place he goes before someone gets hurt.

“Darling.” My mother turns her attention back to me.“When I return, we’ll go to lunch. I want to make arrangements for winter break. I’ll schedule a chemical peel. That should brighten that complexion right up. We can chat about what else. Maybe a little lipo for the waistline? You’ll have time to recover over the holidays.”

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