Page 37 of Fun Together
“Hmm?”
“Why don’t you want to go home? You clearly feel bad.”
I grab my things and head for the elevators. “Too much to do. And like I said, I feel fine.”
Also, the thought of going home sick to my sad apartment feels worse than pushing through the rest of the day at the office.
The elevator arrives and we both step inside. As soon as it starts its ascension up to the sixth floor, I know I can’t keep lying to Eli—or myself—anymore.
I feel like shit.
I wakeup in an unfamiliar bed.
It’s pitch-dark, and all I can see is the outline of streetlights through the blinds. I panic, rolling over quickly to try to get up, but I’m wrapped in a blanket that I’ve managed to twist around myself in a tight burrito.
The blanket is familiar, though. It may be dark, but I know that it’s plaid and fleece and one I’ve owned for over ten years. And the bed I’m in is only unfamiliar because it’s located in the bedroom I never sleep in.I feel around to see if I can find my phone, but it’s too dark to see. I don’t have a bedside lamp, and I guess Rett was right about needing that nightstand.
The last thing I remember is Eli giving me a ride home from work because he wouldn’t allow me to drive. In hindsight, I’m glad he did. But how did I get in the bedroom? I would have gone straight to the couch.
I hobble out into the living room where a lamp has been left on. There’s a sticky note taped to the lampshade.
Why is this your only light?
Below it is a very bad doodle of a vampire.
“Someone’s never heard of mood lighting,” I grumble.
Just the act of taking the ten steps from the bedroom to the living room has exhausted me, so I sit on the couch and look around for my phone. Not on my coffee table. Not under the couch cushions.
There are two sticky notes on the arm of the couch.
Heading back to office.
Text when you wake up?
I wonder what time it is. If it’s this dark, it has to be pretty late. I get up and flick the light on in the kitchen. See? I have other light sources. I see my phone charging on the counter and see that it’s 9:13 p.m.
I unlock it to text Eli when my eye catches on something else on the linoleum. My “Faye’s Hierarchy of Fun” list. He’s seen it, but it’s one thing to talk about something while you’re tipsy and another to see physical evidence of this silly thing I might be doing.
I thought about throwing it away, but something held me back from getting rid of it. At the very least, it’s a funny keepsake. It’s still incredibly embarrassing that he’s seen it, though.
I text him:Thank you for giving me a ride home!
Eli: Of course. How are you feeling?
Faye: Better. Question though. How did I get in the bed?
Eli: You don’t remember? I tried to carry you, but you kept squirming around. We ended up sort of hobbling together up the stairs and I helped you into bed.
I have vague memories of this, but that must have been some fever I had. This is so embarrassing. He was trying to help me, and I was fighting him all the way?
Faye: I’m so so sorry.
Eli: For what?
Faye: That you had to bring me home and then wrangle me into my apartment.
Eli: No big deal. It was my lunch break.
