Page 49 of Back for More
“Probably. Would it be weirder for your dad to see you this drunk?”
“I’m not that drunk!” she yells—so loud that everyone else in the place looks at her. Then she slouches down and composes herself before pushing herself up out of the booth. “I don’t even remember how much I’ve had to drink.” She loses her balance when she gets up.
“Whoa there.” I steady her with my hand. “A little too much, I’d say.”
“I’m fine.” She widens her eyes, shuts them tight, and then opens them again. “I’m fine.”
I put my arm around her anyway. “Off we go, then.”
I’ve been driving for about five minutes, and Lily has been sitting perfectly still and silent the entire time.
“Are you okay? Do you feel sick?”
She doesn’t shake her head, but she’s holding on to the door handle with both hands. “I never throw up. Ever—Wait. Pull over.” She covers her mouth.
I pull over immediately—fortunately there’s no one driving behind us. She flies out the door and throws up in a bush by a parking lot, holding her own hair back before I even have a chance to get out and do it for her. “Don’t look at me!” she calls out in between retches. I decide she’d probably prefer it if I wait in the truck. She’s a very quiet and elegant barfer. Figures.
I hand her a Kleenex box when she returns.
“Feel better?”
“Mmmhmm. I didn’t throw up.”
“Good.”
“Can I have that water?”
I pick up the water bottle from the cup holder and hand it to her. She takes it, opens the door, and goes outside again. I watch as she gurgles with the water and spits it out into the bush that she hurled into. When she gets back into the truck, I have an open tin of Altoids waiting for her. “Not that you have any reason to freshen your breath, but would you care for a curiously strong mint?”
She laughs and nods her head. “I would indeed, thanks ever so much.” She pops a mint into her mouth and sighs. “Fuck this night.” She punches the passenger door.
“Hey. Don’t punch my truck.”
“Sorry.”
“Why fuck this night? I like this night.” I step on the gas pedal again, driving very slowly.
She covers her face with her hands.
“You feel sick again?”
Her voice is muffled. “I’m embarrassed.”
“Why? Because you got sick?”
“Everything.”
“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”
She nods her head.
“Not with me.”
“Only with you. Because of you.”
I pull over to the side of the road again. Not because I expect her to vomit but because I need to give her my full attention. “Lily.” I touch her hand, the one that’s closest to me, and try to pull it from her face. She resists. “What are you talking about?”
She finally uncovers her face and rests her head back against the headrest, looking up. I can see that those brown eyes are about to spill over.
