The Writer by Rebekah Dodson Page A

was spread tightly across a wide queen size bed, with a nightstand and just held a few empty prescription bottles, Chap Stick, and a glass of water. The wall was decorated with a few posters of purple hued dragons and dolphins and one of Shakespeare quotes – the latter a gift from Elijah on my birthday last year. An ornate Celtic cross above the bed that I'd picked up on my trip to Ireland after graduation. A small TV sat on tall dresser in the corner, a stack of sad DVD's next to it: musicals, romantic comedies, and a few dramas.
    This whole house felt so empty.
    I was tired of feeling so empty.
    The only one who made me feel worthy was Elijah... and he wasn't mine. More than the guilt of what we had done was the depressing thought that it was all just a mistake. Of course, he loved Alicia. He would have never been with me sober... right? It's not like I didn't give him many chances over the years. It's like James had said 14 years ago - who could ever love someone who looked like me?
    I ran into the bathroom across the hall, huge choking sobs flooding my chest. I grabbed the corners of the cream porcelain sink and swallowed hard, my tears dissipating as fast as they have threatened to flow. What had Alex said last night? He wasn't worth the tears. He wasn't, he wasn't. It was over – he wouldn't remember last night. The weight of my lie crushed my heart; I felt the heavy pieces, shattered like so much broken glass. I had a beautiful, fun filled night with my best friend.
    Only, I was the only one that knew about it.
    How could I hide it? How could my face mask what I had known for years? How could last night stay my secret?
    Shakily, I turned on the cool water, and splashed my face. My reflection greeted me in the mirror. Huge, red rimmed gray eyes, red ruddy cheeks, plump pink lips, wide chin and forehead. My bobbed hair hung to my shoulder in a cascade of straight and boring locks, still damp from the shower at Eli's.
    I was a special kind of mess.
    Popping open the spring-loaded glass cabinet mirror, I rummaged past old birth control bottles, anti-anxiety medications, half empty bottles of shampoo, and various hues of nail polish. Finding the bottle I needed, I blew the dust off the lid and slipped off the child-proof cap, knocking one into my hand.
    I filled up a nearby glass of water from the still running sink and heavily swallowed the morning after pill. The last thing the rose and the fern needed was a little root poking up through the bark dust.
    With my hand on my stomach, I went into the bedroom, my bed both a horror and a comfort. I slipped off my boots and climbed into bed fully clothed, my tears my only comfort as I yielded to the sandman.

Chapter Twelve
    "Hey, thanks for driving his truck home the other night," I leaned in to whisper to Alex the next morning. "You're a lifesaver." I nodded as Marion took a seat across the table.
    "Hey, I got your back," Alex whispered. "What happened, that night? Spill the gooey gossip, girly."
    Later, I mouthed to him. Elijah ducked into the room. It was certainly not the place.
    Alex winked. I knew later he would make me spill my guts.
    Work had been... less than comfortable today. Elijah had done his best to avoid me, only speaking to me to tell me that Alicia wouldn't be coming in today.
    When I got coffee this morning, Lucy, our regular barista, asked why Elijah wasn't with me. I told her he wasn't feeling well.
    "That man is never sick," she eyed me, but didn't say anymore. "You want his to go?"
    "No, he's on his own today."
    Lucy eyes widened, but she remained silent – thankfully. My hangover had spilled into day two, but I wasn't entirely convinced it wasn't stressed induced; I certainly didn't feel like explaining anything to the lady who made my coffee. I took my latte and crossed the street to our small office.
    I was a little excited to make it to the office, despite it being Monday. The weekend had been a tumultuous roller coaster ride of emotions, and the