S A R A

Ch 25

25

Oh God,

I had to babysit Dixie's Dog.

Oh God.

I was in Haden's bed.

Oh my GOD.

He was already gone.

This was what my thought progression looked like the morning after that fateful event.

It all hit me quicker than I wanted to, and in flashes.

The bar, the music, the, ugh shots.

Then him.

Maybe I terrified him to the point that he had to run away from his own house to get away from whatever this is.

Maybe I'll follow suite and do the same.

I stumbled out of the bed, hopeless grabbing my shirt off the floor. Making good progress already, now had to find some sort of pants. Yes. I was completely, stark naked and alone in the bed of the biggest current pop star in the world.

Just then I heard voices and footsteps outside the bedroom door.

What now?? Have I not had enough mortification for this week, month, year, life?!?!

"Great....Great. That sounds good...I'll meet you there." Him. On the phone. It seemed he was just outside the door long enough for me to run back into the bed and, er, cover myself with the sheets. Just then something caught my eye, blood. On the sheets. My virgin blood.

He opened the door but I was sleeping. Pretending to, facing the other side, trying to steady my breath like they teach us in Yoga class. I prayed to God it was working because I truly was not sure how to face him now.

I felt his presence linger over me, as if deciding whether to wake me up or not. Then in a beat he turned towards the drawer and I heard him pull out something and it sounded as if he was writing a note. Then, he came closer to me and I had to hold my breath, continuing to pretend that I was sleeping.

"Sweet creature." He whispered and his hand gently grazed my hair. And just like that he was gone.

I waited for several moments to make sure he wouldn't come back, before I turned over in the bed. I was sad and confused and hurt because I felt something do terribly great and forceful inside me, with no hope for release.

I exhaled what seemed to be the breath that I was holding since last night.

***

I left his house in a fever. I managed to find my pants. I didn't have the time. I clumsy managed to scramble to find my bag. I had to run into his huge ensuite bathroom and try to do what I could. The sheets....should I have tried to wash them myself. No time, I thought. Instead, I decided to leave it as it was and live in mortification for the rest of my life.

"Have a great rest of the summer Sara," Somehow Bruce still managed to find me as I was leaving and he said it with such a smile that I couldn't help but smile back, even though this is not how I felt, necessarily. I was tired, such a tired girl. I needed sun and time and freedom from the insecurity that I felt.

It was only in the cab on the way to Dixie's place that I realized I forgot something, other than my panties, his note. In my fury and ambition to leave that place, I totally overlooked the note on the bedside table, the one I heard him write before he left.

I involuntarily brought my hand up to my forehead and closed my eyes. Not just because of my hungover headache. No, this was me in disbelief of my pure stupidity.

I had just enough cash to cover the taxi ride to Dixie's. There, I found her spare keys in the plant pot hanging next to her door. Most people usually go for the key under the rug, but not Dixie. No, in her case, one must deliberately dig through the pot of dirt to find her key.

This could've been the worst day of my life to date. Because once I finally managed to open the three-lock door, the first thing I felt was the floor as her huge Doberman jumped me.

I thought that this was it. This was how I was to end. I could see it already, 'Sara Clementine, ravaged by savage dog after escaping near death by mortification. Wanna be groupie. At least died not a virgin.'

But instead, my fantasy was broken apart by Bukowski - the Doberman's - kisses. As Dixie explained, "he is a large but kind creature. All he needs is to be fed three times a day and walked twice. But wait, he had surgery because he ate one of my weed pipes so you're going to need to watch him for the day.'

So there I was, on the floor, dehydrated, being attacked (with love) by a Doberman, and most importantly, no longer a virgin.

Rex seemed to lose interest soon enough though, not sure how I felt about that actually, and moved on to go find food in his bowl.

The instruction were clear, I had to feed him his post-surgery drugs with every meal. I got up to find them on the counter with a note from Trixie. What is this the 19th century???

It said,

Thanks Again Love, xx Dix. Ps, I'm taking you out for Margaritas when I get back to repay you.

Oh God, I never wanted to drink again. But maybe I could have a virgin, no pun intended, and make myself feel better by telling her the story. Or at least what was socially acceptable to tell to an older girl currently at a bartender convention in San Clemente.

"Okay Buko," I said, talking more to myself than him to calm me down, "down we go with post-bong-digestion-relief drug Dose #1."

Except when I said it, I must have said a trigger word because then he started barking and running like mad in circles. After approximately 2 minutes I decided to sit on a couch and not do anything, wait of him to calm down.

Then before I could do anything else, the tears started coming by themselves.

The tears that should have come a long time ago. Haden, me, my life. What seemed so right and so wrong, so mine and so not. So close and so far away, as cliche as that might sound!

But that was enough to calm down Bukowski, as he came up and put his head on my lap and only moved his eyes up to look at me. He was somehow still so cute, even if he was a huge dog.

"Okay," I told myself, "get it together."

I must have had such an effect on the dog, that he even willing agreed to partake in the drug ingestions. Good boy.