table.
Micah shook his head and gave Twig a little bow. “Goodnight Mister Vanderbilt. Have a safe trip home,” he said.
Zara and Micah walked off together, holding hands. She didn’t bother to look back.
9.
Zara awoke at home to her dad asking her why she was still in bed. She cracked one eye open and looked at the hazy shape of her father.
“Huh?” was the best response she could come up with. She sat up and the motion made her headache flare painfully. She was sore all over. She lay back down and groaned. “What time is it?”
“It’s 5pm. I just got in. Are you sick? What’s going on? Did you go out partying all night?” he said, although with no real anger in his voice, only worry.
“Yes,” Zara mumbled.
“Yes what? You’re sick or you went out partying?”
“Yes. Both. I went to a friend’s house and had too much wine. It’s not going to become a habit,” she said defensively. “I’m sure I’m not the first 21-year-old to celebrate her birthday a bit too much.”
Her father sighed and stood up. He was still wearing his cook’s outfit from work. “Well, I think it’s safe to say your birthday is over. Time to get back to reality, and more importantly your classes. You get this one pass. Shape up kiddo.” He gave her a loving smile.
“You’re right, Dad. I’m gonna buckle down on my schoolwork. Now, could you please for the love of all that is holy bring me a Gatorade? I’m in agony.”
“I’ll get ya one…did you go to this party alone? I hope you knew the people—“
She cut him off, “Twig was there. I think he brought me home.”
Her father groaned, “You think ? Zara…”
“No, he did. I’m just groggy. Everyone there was harmless. It was more of a dinner party than anything. I just overdid it.” She felt guilty for lying, but didn’t feel like telling him she had blacked out and couldn’t remember much of that night, and she had a growing suspicion that she might have been roofied.
“Well, I feel better that you were with Twig. He seems like a good guy.”
“Yeah. He’s okay,” Zara said. She had a hazy memory of her snapping at Twig for something he had said. Had that happened? She suddenly felt very guilty. Did I really drink that much?
Her father sighed and left the room, then reappeared with a Gatorade. “Sleep it off. I gotta go sleep off my job.”
She took the Gatorade from his hands as if it was holy sacrament and guzzled it, spilling a good deal on her bed sheets.
“You do have a drinking problem,” her father said jokingly.
“You stole that joke from Airplane .”
“I stole all my jokes from that movie,” he said, and then patted her on the head lovingly and stood up.
“I know it’s been rough lately with me not being around much and your mom—“
Zara was far too tired for a conversation about her mother, who had always been an exhausting subject. “Dad. It’s fine. She wasn’t really here when she was here anyway. And I do understand you work so much because you want the roof over our head and all. I’m not that naïve.”
Her dad nodded. “I could never accuse you of that. A bit dorky, yeah. A little foolish at times, but never naïve.”
“Thank you, father. That will do,” she said softly. He turned off the light and shut the door. She rolled over and almost immediately fell deep into a dream.
10.
Something was calling her. Pulling at her like an undertow. She felt herself drifting through the apartment. Floating. The room was full of moonlight that draped a silvery gleam over all the furniture. The windows had been left open, letting a warm breeze through, making the curtains flow like living things. She could hear
Micah shook his head and gave Twig a little bow. “Goodnight Mister Vanderbilt. Have a safe trip home,” he said.
Zara and Micah walked off together, holding hands. She didn’t bother to look back.
9.
Zara awoke at home to her dad asking her why she was still in bed. She cracked one eye open and looked at the hazy shape of her father.
“Huh?” was the best response she could come up with. She sat up and the motion made her headache flare painfully. She was sore all over. She lay back down and groaned. “What time is it?”
“It’s 5pm. I just got in. Are you sick? What’s going on? Did you go out partying all night?” he said, although with no real anger in his voice, only worry.
“Yes,” Zara mumbled.
“Yes what? You’re sick or you went out partying?”
“Yes. Both. I went to a friend’s house and had too much wine. It’s not going to become a habit,” she said defensively. “I’m sure I’m not the first 21-year-old to celebrate her birthday a bit too much.”
Her father sighed and stood up. He was still wearing his cook’s outfit from work. “Well, I think it’s safe to say your birthday is over. Time to get back to reality, and more importantly your classes. You get this one pass. Shape up kiddo.” He gave her a loving smile.
“You’re right, Dad. I’m gonna buckle down on my schoolwork. Now, could you please for the love of all that is holy bring me a Gatorade? I’m in agony.”
“I’ll get ya one…did you go to this party alone? I hope you knew the people—“
She cut him off, “Twig was there. I think he brought me home.”
Her father groaned, “You think ? Zara…”
“No, he did. I’m just groggy. Everyone there was harmless. It was more of a dinner party than anything. I just overdid it.” She felt guilty for lying, but didn’t feel like telling him she had blacked out and couldn’t remember much of that night, and she had a growing suspicion that she might have been roofied.
“Well, I feel better that you were with Twig. He seems like a good guy.”
“Yeah. He’s okay,” Zara said. She had a hazy memory of her snapping at Twig for something he had said. Had that happened? She suddenly felt very guilty. Did I really drink that much?
Her father sighed and left the room, then reappeared with a Gatorade. “Sleep it off. I gotta go sleep off my job.”
She took the Gatorade from his hands as if it was holy sacrament and guzzled it, spilling a good deal on her bed sheets.
“You do have a drinking problem,” her father said jokingly.
“You stole that joke from Airplane .”
“I stole all my jokes from that movie,” he said, and then patted her on the head lovingly and stood up.
“I know it’s been rough lately with me not being around much and your mom—“
Zara was far too tired for a conversation about her mother, who had always been an exhausting subject. “Dad. It’s fine. She wasn’t really here when she was here anyway. And I do understand you work so much because you want the roof over our head and all. I’m not that naïve.”
Her dad nodded. “I could never accuse you of that. A bit dorky, yeah. A little foolish at times, but never naïve.”
“Thank you, father. That will do,” she said softly. He turned off the light and shut the door. She rolled over and almost immediately fell deep into a dream.
10.
Something was calling her. Pulling at her like an undertow. She felt herself drifting through the apartment. Floating. The room was full of moonlight that draped a silvery gleam over all the furniture. The windows had been left open, letting a warm breeze through, making the curtains flow like living things. She could hear
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