He puts the garbage can down. “There. I think I’m done. I feel a little better now.”
“You have vomit on your chin.” I return to the kitchen to get some paper towels. I hand them to him so he can clean himself up, then sit down on the chair beside him. “Why did you come to my place?”
“Dunno. I like pissing you off.”
“I’m aware of that.”
“You’re my best friend.” He holds out his arms as though he wants a hug, but I don’t go to him.
“That’s sad,” I say.
“I know. Pathetic. I’m pathetic.”
“You just need to try a few things until you figure out what you like.”
“Dunno why I’m asking you for help. You always knew what you wanted, and then you did it, and that’s that.”
This is true.
“Alone in a crowd,” he says. “That’s how I feel. I keep thinking if I surround myself with more people, I won’t feel lonely. But it doesn’t work. I’m lonely and bored and you’re my best friend and now I want more tequila, though I’d settle for scotch.”
“No. Drink the water instead.”
He gives me the middle finger before drinking half the glass.
“Do you get drunk often?” I ask, rather afraid of the answer.
“Not this drunk.”
Well, that’s something.
“I’m jealous,” he says. “You got a job. You got a girl.”
“You have lots of girls, too, from the sounds of it.”
He considers this for a moment. “Courtney is yourgirlfriend. It’s different.”
“Is that what you want? A girlfriend?”
“I don’t know. No matter what I do, I’m bored.”
“Much as I hate to say it, you’re a very intelligent person who ran a successful tech company. It’s hardly surprising you’re bored now that you have nothing to challenge you. And it seems like you’re also missing meaningful personal connections.”
He looks at me as though I’m speaking Latin. “Too complicated for my simple brain.”
I roll my eyes. “Okay. We’ll talk when you’re sober.”
“Can I stay the night? I don’t want to go home. We can paint our nails and listen to Katy Perry!”
I sigh. “You can stay the night, but this is not a sleepover party.”
Settling back on the couch, he burps and closes his eyes.
Well, I’ll leave him alone for a bit. I go to the kitchen and grab my phone off the table.
Three missed calls, all from Courtney. A text message that says,Call me, sent fifteen minutes ago. I know she wouldn’t call me three times in twenty minutes unless it was urgent.
Shit.
