by Andrew Weston
Towson’s breathing was loud and snorey as Susan stared blankly past him and out the rain streaked windows at the light mist coming down outside. Restless, bored, and hungover she slowly twirled the auburn locks of her hair between her fingers and wished she could be somewhere far away–far enough away to make her think life was fun again–to finally lift the pounding dread that had shown up in her chest. She almost wished she hadn’t ended up sleeping with him last night. Towson–that’s what he said his name was right? But then she didn’t want to go home early to her apartment either—it was way too familiar to her, too real.
Susan had been the drunk one the night before at the bar and Towson had acted so sweet. He had taken a keen interest in listening to her sob stories—and she had several of them—and he even had some advice. She told him everything–how her husband had run off with that waitress a month earlier, how her best friend was rapidly changing from a weekend drinker to an alcoholic, and how she hated her burgeoning but disastrous career at the firm, and he didn’t seem to mind. He even knew a few good jokes to cheer her up. And his faithful, albeit failing, attempts to get her to stay away from the last few vodka shots, and the wine—how good the wine tasted—were appreciated anyway.
Towson had shown up with some friends to play darts before they started talking, and by the end of the night he had offered to drive her home–an offer she hastily took up. Before she knew it the ride ended with a simple chain of events that landed them both back at his place. And although she hadn’t had a one night stand with anyone for a long time, everything just seemed to fall into place so well she couldn’t help but wonder if these days it was somehow always so easy—so simple and carefree. But in all of it–whatever had happened last night, right now she just really wanted Towson to wake up–to show her in his own way it was ok she was still there and wasn’t crazy—at least as much as a part time lover could. She knew she liked Towson; and even though she was a little nervous about the sex, she was proud of herself for not, in her words, “childishly” deciding to bail at three am, thus forfeiting any chance she had of him of ever calling her back later. Almost like her husband these days.
She sighed loudly. It was actually more like a wearily audible spoken syllable than a sigh. She was really just hoping he would hear her moan and wake up—maybe make coffee or something–anything. She couldn’t lie here awake and alone very much longer—not if she was going to stay sane. But by some miracle he did budge and roll over. But he only licked his chops and stayed sleeping there—like some sort of zombie, she thought.
“Towson,” she finally called out futilely. Men sleep like sacks of lead after sex, she thought. And Towson did not move. She wondered in the silence for a moment if she actually knew his real name. There was no law against lying about your name to a date.
“Towson,” she called again. Finally his green eyes perked open, and he looked up at the ceiling with a frightened, pale stare. She had won.
He blinked his eyes to clear them and weakly muttered, “Hi.”
“Good morning, Towson. I couldn’t sleep,” she said her hangover searing.
“No?” muttered Towson.
“No. Is there any way you could make me a cup of coffee.”
Towson looked over at the alarm clock. It was 6:30. He morbidly knew that if he got up now he would probably never get back to sleep again. And they had been banging until at least 2.
He rubbed his eyes slowly to expel some sleep. “Yeah, I can make you some coffee,” he finally said with a strained voice. He didn’t avert his tired gaze from the ceiling. Then he rolled over and got out of bed, performing a weary style situp, his nude butt emerging slowly from the white linen sheets. He made his way clumsily to a robe hanging on the door which he awkwardly managed to put on. He glanced back at her and motioned swiftly with his hand. “Want a robe?”
“Yes, I would like that,” said Susan not moving. She smiled back at Towson standing there, though she wasn’t nearly as tired. He wondered if he knew her head felt like it had just run into a brick wall.
Towson looked blurrily around the room for a moment before he realized the robe was folded up in the bureau. He walked over, pulling the silk garment out and put it on the bed next to her. “Meet me in the kitchen,” he said politely. He rubbed his eyes again for a moment and then left the room. She lay there for a moment alone before getting up to go downstairs.
When she finally emerged into the kitchen he was throwing a bag of Starbucks on the counter and fishing wildly through the cabinet.
“I can’t find the coffee grinder in here,” he said anxiously.
“Oh,” she blushed, ashamed that she had seen him so disorganized. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s OK,” he stammered. He moved some pans loudly, then took a cheese grater out of the cabinet, and finally pulled a fancy European coffee grinder out, dumping some beans straight into it.
“I hope you’re not too upset I woke you up so early,” she said meekly.
“No.” He pushed down the whirring mechanism on the coffee grinder with a start. “Coffee always thrills me in the morning anyway. Even if I get up early.”
“Mmm. I see,” she said trailing her words. “Sounds so decadent.” She sat down at the kitchen table, careful to politely cross her legs under her robe.
He turned more awake from the counter and leaned back on it a little lanky. She thought he looked sexy in that position—like he was solid – he knew what he was doing. “I know it’s early. You can stay a bit if you don’t feel like leaving.”
“I’d like that,” she said.
He poured the water into the coffeemaker and turned it on. It started making loud gurgling noises like it always did. He turned toward her again. “You were pretty wasted last night,” he said really without scolding. “I didn’t expect you’d want to come over here much in that condition.”
“I needed a ride,” she said. “And anyways I had to leave my car at the bar.” He seemed to understand. His nodded and smiled. She took this to mean that he was kind of fond of her sense of humor. She tried to hold her fleeting surprise at this for the moment. “Things did turn out weird, I’d say, what with you pulling me out of the bar and all like that,” she said. “But still I’m glad you talked to me.”
He nodded. “Talked to you about what?”
“You know. All my problems. Why I was doing so much drinking last night. Why I’m doing my best. You remember, don’t you?” She hoped he’d remember. Her soon to be ex-husband never remembered anything.
“Yeah, I think I remember,” he said. “You made good light of it anyway. Why do you think I invited you over here. You didn’t seem like a total basket case.”
“Oh, well I don’t think I told you about my financial situation,” she said suddenly, almost regretting it as the words came off her lips.
“Yes, you already did,” said Towson.
She blushed and looked down. “Oh.”
“Remember, you said you hate your job and don’t know what to do. You have a terrible deal to cash in on with the divorce and all. And you have absolutely no idea what you’ll be doing six months from now. You told me, all right.” He smirked.
“That doesn’t count as financial,” she said embarrassed.
“Hey, money’s money. Why do you think I work out of the house so much. It’s easy. I get more done that way.”
“Well, I guess we both have a little anyway, for now I mean,” she said.
“I guess we do,” he said not seeming to care. She was relieved. He turned back to open the cabinet, reaching up to get out two mugs for the coffee. With a thud he put them both on the table. One had a cowboy hat on it and the other said Martha’s Vineyard and had a picture of a seagull on it. She eyed them with a fresh eager glaze.
“I went to Martha’s Vineyard with a few friends last year,” he said not seeming to care about the coffee. “Had a good time.”
“I hear the crab’s really good there,” she said.
“The crab’s excellent,” he said smacking his lips. “But we spent way too much money on going out to eat.”
“Well I guess it’s always about the cash,” she said.
“Sort of. That or your drunken head. You can have a good time either way. Seriously.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Well, coffee’s done. Why don’t you get some of it into you so you freshen up.” He took the carafe out of the machine and slowly poured each of them a cup.
“Thanks,” she said forging a sweet smile through her blear. “I promise I’ll get better. Sorry.”
“No worries.” He paused and turned on a small TV set on the counter to watch the news. He came and sat back at the table.
“Towson–can I ask you,” she said obviously relieved at the coffee and not seeing the news. “You know I have a lot going on right now and you seem pretty much like a smart guy. But do you ever have things in your life that you regret?”
“What do you mean?” he asked a little puzzled by the seeming suddenness of her question.
“Regret. You know,” she said slowly. “Do you ever think you get it?” The thick black scent of the coffee permeated the room. It smelled good.
“I guess I try not to,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s another of my problems,” she said.
“Why? Do you think you have it now?”
“Well,” she tossed back her hair. “I know I regret drinking last night for one. I regret most of the things that happened to me in the past six months.”
“You’ll live,” he said. “You will. I mean nothing’s so bad you can’t ever get over it.”
“I know, but sometimes I just feel so…used up.”
He didn’t avert his gaze from the TV. “Shit happens. Then you deal. You know? That’s life, isn’t it? You can’t stop the weather—you can only stay indoors if it rains.” She thought about it absentmindedly for a moment.
“No, I guess you can’t stop the weather.” But she was puzzled. She began to think some things were impossible. Towson was right. She could count the number of times on both hands she had cried over impossible things changing in her life and she hadn’t liked it. Then there was this new “guyfriend” of hers. I mean where was that going? She guessed it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they never saw each other again. Though he did seem nice.
She peered over her coffee mug as she held it up to her lips, anxious for it to cool down a little. It was too hot to drink still but she really wanted the pain in her head, the dread in her heart to go away. She immediately made a silent promise to herself never to get drunk again no matter how miserable she was. Towson was watching the weather forecast. The weatherman was calling for more rain.
“I guess the weatherman doesn’t care I was planning to wash my car today,” he quipped half to himself. She sighed.
“You want to watch the news?” he asked.
“Towson,” she interrupted.
“Yeah.”
She blurted, “I think I’d like to make love with you one more time.” She immediately felt dumb as soon as she said it.
“You’re not just saying that because I did you a favor last night, are you?” Towson was insistent.
“I just…I had a good time last night and want to do it again sober.”
Towson paused as if to think about it. “You know,” he said finally said gently. “I think I’d like that. I mean what have we got to lose.?” They were happy then. And they decided to bring their coffees to the bedroom where they had so lustfully left each other’s company. It would be a good day, Susan thought; staying inside–no matter what happened. And they both glowed happily inward to themselves. Sometimes it was just too late to make a bad first impression.
