When I awoke the next day my head was pounding. Opening two bottles in one night was not a usual thing for me. I sat up and rubbed my face, my thoughts going to the previous night. I cursed and grabbed my phone to check the time, which was 1:57 PM.
"Oh no," I moaned, jumping out of bed and getting dressed. I was supposed to get Luke early this morning. I left the house and practically ran down the street, knocking on the Petersons' door. A few seconds went by before the door opened to an irritated Luke. I was extremely relieved to find him there and okay.
"Dude, I'm sorry. I... I guess I didn't set my alarm clock."
The creases in his forehead deepened as he wrinkled his nose. "You reek of alcohol," he said, pushing me back so he could come outside.
"I'm sorry," I repeated, ignoring his comment.
The irritation disappeared from Luke's face, replaced with a strange sympathetic sadness that instantly irritated me.
"Don't look at me like that," I told him. "I don't need your sympathy. I said I'm sorry." I stepped off his porch and went back home.
I said sorry and that's all I needed to do, not stand there and watch him pity me. I plopped down on my couch and stared at the wall. A couple minutes later, my front door opened and Luke stepped inside.
"Yeah, I have sympathy for you. But not in a judgy-condemny way. I don't know what all you went through, but clearly it was a lot. No matter what happened, you have my support and my ear any time you need it. And you are a good person despite what your inner self tells you."
"Yeah, you don't know what happened. So you acting like you know I'm a good person is stupid. I can't be your friend, Luke. Okay? I don't want to be your friend. I don't want to take you to your appointments. I don't want to hang out with you."
He stared at me with a blank expression on his face. I waited for him to say something or do something, but nothing happened. He didn't look mad or hurt. He didn't yell or cry. He just looked at me for a few seconds before turning around and walking out, leaving me suddenly feeling lonelier than I had ever felt.
I leaned back on the couch, my eyes drifting to the wall across from me that held the paint samples. I needed to hurry up and fix the house so I could get out of this place. I sat up. I could get the house done even quicker if I got a job. Sure, I got plenty of money from the military, but I wanted to save up to buy my own place, not spend it all trying to fix this one. If I got a job, all that money could go to fixing the house up.
I smiled. Plus it would give me something to do. Pulling out my phone, I searched jobs in the area and began applying for everything I qualified for.
#
Sighing in exacerbation, I fell onto my bed. After a week, I had only had two interviews—the rest of my applications had been ignored—and neither interviews seemed to have gone that well. How was I going to find a job with no actual job experience? Apparently risking your life for your country wasn't enough to get you hired. I rubbed my face and got back up. I needed a drink. Unfortunately, the closest bar to get plastered at was Luke's, which was walking distance, meaning I wouldn't need to drive or get a Taxi. But would he really want me there? Of course, money was money. And if I went there, I would be supporting Luke in a way.
Making my decision, I headed to his bar. Neither the bouncer nor Sabrina seemed happy to see me. I went up to the bar and sat down, waiting for Sabrina to stop pretending to be busy. Eventually, she came over and looked at me.
"What can I get you to drink?"
"About the other night...." I trailed off awkwardly. I didn't really want to apologize to her, but I also didn't want it to be weird to come to the one bar by my house. Luckily, I didn't have to say anything.
She smiled. "All good."
I ordered my whiskey and waited for her to pour it.
"What have you been up to?" She asked as she handed it to me.
I took a slow slip, trying to pace myself this time. I didn't want another incident. "Unsuccessful job searching."
"You're looking for a job?"
"Yeah, I thought it would help make fixing the house up a quicker process."
Sabrina leaned over the counter and grinned. "Well, it just so happens that we are hiring and I've been put in charge of the hiring process."
I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm pretty sure Luke doesn't want me working here."
"It could just be temporary until you find another job."
"I don't even know how to make drinks."
She showed me a tablet. "You can find recipes in here."
I took another drink and sighed. "I don't know. I'm not really interested in causing problems."
Sabrina frowned, but nodded in understanding. "How about I talk to Luke and see what he says?"
I scoffed. "Okay, you do that." But I already knew the answer. I had hurt him on purpose; he wouldn't want me around much less be on his payroll. Sabrina handed me a piece of paper.
"Fill this out," she told me.
I looked down at the job application and rolled my eyes but did as she wanted. When I handed it back to her, she put it under the counter and went to another customer. After a few more drinks, I cut myself off to make sure I didn't cause any more incidents. I paid for my drinks and left the bar, heading home. I knew what I was risking by cutting myself off, but I didn't feel like causing more problems for Sabrina, or really Luke.
The quiet dark engulfed me as I lay in bed, wanting to fall asleep but afraid to. I could feel myself beginning to panic. I knew what would happen when I fell asleep. The nightmares would begin to haunt me the moment my eyes shut. So, for the longest time I kept them open, staring up at the ceiling. But eventually my eyes began to grow heavy until I could no longer keep them open. Immediately, I fell into a deep, nightmare-filled sleep.
The sounds of gunfire and screaming rattled my sleep as I relived my worst nightmare until 3:00 AM when I awoke. I jerked upright and looked around. My heart was racing and I could feel the beads of sweat rolling down my temple. The images from my nightmare continued to play in my head, torturing me until I couldn't take it anymore. I got out of bed, put my tennis shoes on, and left the house with the hopes that going for a run would help clear my mind since I had no alcohol.
On the third run around the block, I rounded the corner and knocked into someone. I stumbled forward, wrapping my arms around them to prevent them from falling down. After a few steps I was able to regain my balance and looked down, finding a woman staring back up at me.
"I-I'm so sorry," she stammered as she pulled away from me. The street lamp shone brightly down on the woman's curly, red hair and freckled face. She pushed her wire-framed glasses back up her nose. "I wasn't looking where I was running." She looked down at her watch. "This thing is supposed to track my heart rate, but it's not doing anything."
I glanced down at her watch. "May I?"
She raised her wrist up and I gently flipped it so I could adjust her band. "If it's too loose, it can't read your heartbeat. It should be about this tight for it to get a reading."
She looked at the screen on her watch and waited. When it started displaying her heartbeat, she laughed. "I'm such an idiot." She facepalmed and shook her head. "I got it used so there weren't really any instructions... I'm Emily." She offered her hand and I took it.
"Taylor."
"Do you live around here? I don't think I've seen you before."
"I just moved back to my old house. I'm fixing it up to sell."
"Oh! You're Taylor Schofield! Luke has told me about you."
I stared at her in surprise. "You know Luke?"
"Oh yes, he and Will are great!"
"Yeah... okay, well I should probably finish my run now. I'll catch you later." I gave her a nod, then began running down the sidewalk. I had found another good reason to hurry up and sell the house—this town wasn't big enough.
After I finished my run, I knew I wouldn't be going back to sleep, so I sat down in the living room and turned the TV on. Instead of watching whatever was on, however, my eyes were pulled to the paint samples taped above the height of the TV. Maybe a bright orange or blue would look nice with black and white.
My thoughts went to Luke. I had really screwed up. Even if I didn't want to be friends with him, I didn't mean to leave him hanging. He had needed me and I had failed him. Again. I drug my hands over my face and sighed.
I sucked.