Deranged Delusions

10. A Single Life For Me

The first and only time I’ve ever woken up drunk was a few years ago, the morning after Tammy Lou Barker’s graduation party. I was eighteen years old and living in a small town where the legal driving age is younger than Sean Preston. So of course the only plausible thing to do the moment after you graduate is to get shit face drunk. After that terrible ordeal, I promised myself that I wasn’t going to drink to the point of alcohol poisoning and I kept that promise.

Until last night.

The hardest part about waking up drunk is that you can feel the hangover coming but it won’t hit you until at least three hours later when you’re wide awake and feeling like nothing could go wrong. The cottonmouth will come, just like the wooziness and the ear splitting headache will soon follow. All you want to do is take a couple handfuls of ibproferen and hide away in your room until the terrible feeling subsides.

Too bad I’m in a room that I have no recollection of getting in and I’m wearing men’s clothes over the ones I wore to the party. Not a good sign, especially since the last time I checked, Neal hated the Lakers and here I am wearing an enormous jersey.

Its times like these where I hate the fact that I’m a lightweight.

Really, I can’t hold my liquor at all. The last few things I remembered from last night was having Neal give me a few glasses of rum and coke and before I knew it I was grabbing the entire bottle of rum and heading off for the women’s restroom. After that, everything got hazy and yeah, I don’t remember jack shit about how I got in this bed. But it does look familiar.

Getting out of bed, I almost fall over because my sense of balance is so off. Giggling, I reach out and grab the bedside table for support noting the clock set on the top. It’s almost two o’clock in the afternoon. I do believe this is the latest I’ve ever slept in my entire life.

A noise from the doorway and I look up just in time to see Justin standing in the doorway with a passive look on his face. Until he sees me in the middle of his guest room. He turns around so quickly it looks like he’s going to fall on his ass.

“Uhh…” he mutters under his breath and I stumble back to the bed and sit down, trying to stop the world from spinning out of control. “Morning?” he offers and I look up to see that he’s leaning against the doorframe. Looking at him, I notice the huge bruise surrounding his eye. Looks like I wasn’t the only one who had a rough night last night.

“What happened to you?” I question and he flinches before gingerly touching the tender area around his eye.

“N-nothing. Long story.” He’s hiding something, and I hate it when people aren’t being truthful.

“And what am I doing here?”

“Well you were drunk last night, going to drive, and I took you here,” he explains as he tentatively takes a step inside my room. Justin is very apprehensive about something and it’s really killing my slowly fading buzz. And then it hits me and the buzz is close to being nonexistent. I hope he didn’t do what I think he did…

“Wait, you drove? Where’s Bentley?” I get up quickly from the bed and stumble over to the window that overlooks Justin’s driveway. Pulling back the curtains, I peek outside and see my precious car parked in front of his garage with a huge scratch on his plum hood.

“I’m sorry…I really didn’t have a choi-“

“You drove my car?” I ask absolutely flabbergasted.

“Like I said…”

“You drove him?” I move away from the window and rush past Justin, not stopping to listen to his lame ass excuses. I have to get to my car and get out of this house before I give Justin another black eye. You see, there are two lines Justin Randall Timberlake is not allowed to cross. One is to never lay a hand on me that instigates non-platonic contact and the second is to never ever, under any circumstance, is to drive Bentley Lexus. Period. The man is literally hell on wheels and the thought of him driving my baby is enough to make me throw up.

“Lauren!”

“Shut up!” I slur back as I race through his kitchen. I spot my keys on the counter and I snatch them up. I don’t want to listen to his explanations; I don’t want to know how I got haphazardly dressed in boxers and a Lakers jersey over my skirt and blouse. All I want is to get out of this house and see Neal. Knowing that he’ll be there at home for me will make everything better. He always manages to make everything better. He always manages to make everything all right when I’m seriously pissed at my boss.

“Lauren, where are you going?” I’m outside, blinking back the bright sunlight and trying to not yell in pain as the gravel from Justin’s unpaved driveway bites into my bare feet.

“Away form you,” I snarl and he looks hurt for a split second but I’m too busy rubbing my hands over Bentley’s enormous scratch to give a damn.

“You’re still drunk. You can’t drive…”

“Watch me,” I snap while I yank open the car door and throw myself inside.

“Lauren you shouldn’t go see him…” he says softly and I stop my frantic starting of the car to get a good look at him. His face is ashen and the bags under his eyes are enormous. Of course his crowning glory is the huge shiner on his eye. Purples, blues, greens, and a bit of red and yellow are all blended together on his face. Whoever hit him must have been really hit him hard.

“I can go see whoever I damn well please. Don’t come near me and don’t call me.” The car starts and I peel out of his driveway, not caring that I take out half of his outdoor lighting in the process with Bentley’s frantically spinning wheels.

***

It’s times like these that I’m exceedingly happy to see Neal’s house. For a Sunday morning, his street is pretty quiet and very peaceful. I’m guessing the families are all out doing the church thing or some late afternoon meal and here I am parked outside trying my best to freshen up.

It really isn’t going to work very well seeing as I don’t have any shoes, my clothes are wrinkled, my hair is a mess, and the hangover kicked in about twenty minutes ago. Getting out of Bentley, I walk up the path to Neal’s front door and let myself in.

For some odd reason all the blinds are drawn and the house is deathly silent. I know Neal likes to sleep in on days after Justin has parties but he’s never done the whole anti-sunlight a la Dracula routine before.

“Neal?” No answer.

“Neal?” I try again and I hear a slight groan coming from the living room. Heading in that direction, I see a bulky form sprawled out on the couch. “Neal are you alright?” I ask him but he holds up a hand and pulls himself up into a sitting position to face me. His face is taunt and no nonsense and I have a feeling that something absolutely terrible happened to make him look and act this way.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he grumbles and I take a step away from the sofa. It looks like he didn’t sleep at all last night and the look of utmost betrayal and pain slapped across his face is pretty much giving me the huge red flag that something is so not right in the world of Neal Feat.

“Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?” he asks again his blue eyes now emoting a slew of questions. What the hell is he talking about?

“Neal I came to see you…”

“I thought I told him to tell you that I never want to see you again,” he growls and I already know who he’s talking about but I decide to humor him.

“Who?”

“Oh don’t give me that ‘who,’ business. Justin. You were there, you know what you did so you don’t have to play stupid, Lauren.” Of course I’m thrown into complete confusion because I have no idea…he doesn’t want to see…what?

“I don’t understand…”

“Cut the shit Lauren. You two were all over each other last night; you’d have to be blind to not see it. I just can’t believe it took me this long to see that you were cheating on me with that bastard…”

“What the hell are you going on about, Neal? I never touched him! I would never touch him; you’re the only one for me!”

“I don’t need to hear this and you and I both know that we’ve been avoiding this conversation for a long time. I haven’t been in a relationship with you at all. It’s always been Neal the Third Wheel. Our relationship, it isn’t real. It never was…”

“How could you say that? After all we’ve been through…” I ask trying my best to wrap my head around what Neal is talking about.

“Look at all the times we’ve been able to be together over the past three years. Every time it’s because Justin has given his approval for you to take time off or you decided you had enough of his shit and left him. Hell, he’s the reason we became a couple and he’s the reason why we’re done. Tell me which one of us seemed more like a chore than a relationship, and if you dare say Justin ‘s the chore then you’re nothing but a damn liar.”

“You have to believe me Neal, I love you. I didn’t touch him last night,” I whimper completely beside myself with what’s going on. Is this really happening? Did I really get out of bed today to get myself dumped for something I didn’t do?

“Oh right,” Neal starts sarcastically, “which was why Justin took you back to his place and fu…” I don’t want to hear the rest of what I know will become absolutely hurtful words so I interject as quickly as possible.

“I was drunk! I had no idea what I was doing last night. If anything he saved my life.”

“So he’s Mother Theresa now because he kept you from splattering your brains out all over the highway. Christ, Lauren you are so screwed up, maybe if you could adapt…”

And it’s at that point that I’m done with playing stupid. I don’t want to listen to what he has to say anymore so I decide to get mad. Being mad leads to me yelling my head off at him and then maybe we could just make up and forget that this argument ever happened. If I stay mad I can cover up the fact that he’s breaking my heart…

“Adapt? Adapt? The last time I checked our relationship isn’t the fucking Discovery Channel, Neal,” I screech, “Can’t we just talk about this?”

“We’ve spent the three years talking about this relationship and I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” he counters and I know that he’s done arguing with me.

“Neal,” I plead.”

“Lauren.”

“You know I would never intentionally hurt you. I love you, I want to make this work.” He laughs, that huge cynical laugh that no one wants to be on the receiving end of. I give that laugh to Justin at least three times a week and the look on his face always makes me feel better about myself. But listening to his laugh and knowing that what I said caused him to laugh in my face isn’t making me feel better.

“You don’t love me. You love the idea of me. You love the idea that at the end of the day I’ll be here to remind you that there are people out there who aren’t complete jackasses like he is. You say you can’t stand him when he’s all that you can stomach. You keep coming back to me at the end of the day but for some odd reason you always run to the one thing that you claim you can’t stand. And that’s the exact reason why I can honestly say that I hardly know you at all after three years.”

“Stop,” I say, holding up my hand to cease his verbal assault. The tears are threatening to fall and I lean against the wall of his living room to support my weight. Everything is spinning and I begin to think that this is what it likes to feels like to have the world close in around you. Not only do I look like crap while Neal is dumping me, but I feel like shit and I have the worst hangover of my life. But the thing that’s even more horrific – my heart is breaking and there isn’t anything I can do about it.

“Neal,” I plead my voice cracking and I can feel the onslaught of tears stream down my face, “Please, you don’t have to do this…”

“I’m sorry, Lor, but you did this to yourself. Please leave your key on the table and get out of my house,” he says softly and just like that we’re done. I can see the tears starting to fall down his own face before he shakes his head in disappointment and walks out of the living room and away from me. And suddenly a new wave of tears has come upon me and I can feel the wave of panic start to rise up in my stomach.

I start to work Neal’s house key off of my key ring before I walk towards the front door of his house. I unceremoniously drop the key on the steps that lead to the foyer of his house. I’m a huge mess at the moment, choking back sobs and trying my best to not let my voice carry throughout the house. I don’t want to let him know that I’m hurting although I’m sure he has a damn good idea that I’m ready to throw everything away just for a second chance with him.

Once I’m out on his front porch, I slam the door and lean against it, pressing my hands to my hot face. “Shit,” I whimper while my purse drops to the ground. I replay the argument that just happened over and over in my head and the sudden realization that Neal and I are done hits me like a smack in the face.

My legs give out from under me and I’m sitting on my butt outside of my now ex-boyfriend’s house. To top it all off, I’m feeling the need to throw up again, which wouldn’t be a bad start to get revenge on Neal, aside from the fact that I hate to throw up. This day couldn’t get any worse.

“Lauren?” Okay it just got worse, “Are you okay?”

“Does it look like it? I thought I told you to leave me alone,” I mutter into my knees as I bring them closer to my body. I don’t want to look up and see Justin standing in front of me because that would make Neal’s words true; I can’t be an hour without his presence, which is so not true.

“Yeah, but that was when you were still drunk and I had no idea if you were going to…”

“Justin,” I start and my head snaps up from behind the hiding place of my knees. I don’t want to talk to him, I don’t want to talk to anyone right now but when I see that he’s kneeling in front of me, on my eye level and looking at me with eyes that are begging me to tell my life story, I somehow don’t want to stop myself. I want nothing more than to know that he’ll be there for me, to ensure that he can take care of me the way Neal did but I know I won’t be able to go to him for that kind of comfort. I mean, it’s Justin and he’s the one who comes to me for advice, for comfort, for reassurance. It isn’t the other way around and I don’t want it to come full circle. Because then that just proves that I do need Justin and I don’t want to prove Neal right. God that is the last thing I want to do.

“No offense,” I begin, “but why do you care?” I watch through squinted eyes as he leans back on his haunches and looks at me thoughtfully before he reaches forward and grabs my left hand that’s perched on my knee. He squeezes it and that forces me to look him in the eye, which is hard to do when you have tears streaming down your face.

“I care because I can. You’ve been there for me through a bunch of rough patches and now it’s my turn to be there for you. I know this is very uncharacteristic of me…”

“Very,” I mutter to my legs and he smiles before he squeezes my hand again and I look back up.

“But let me make sure you’re alright…”

“Justin,” I interrupt and I look him dead in his lopsided eyes. The swelling on his shiner has definitely gone up since the last time I saw him and I know for a fact that he needs to get some ice on that or else the whole left eye is going to swell shut and then I’ll have to deal with a whiny baby who can’t fathom why his eye has been shot to crap. “We didn’t do anything last night did we?”

“Hate to break it to you Lauren, but the uppity Personal Assistant Ice Queen isn’t exactly my type,” he says with a small laugh and I roll my eyes at him while trying my best to act like this break up is a natural occurrence. I hate it when people see how weak I am. I especially don’t want Justin to see this vulnerability but seeing as he approached me on Neal’s front porch bawling my eyes out, I believe he has the upper hand.

 “So we didn’t do anything? Please, this is very important.” For a split second there’s a flash of uneasiness in his eyes but he winces and grabs his beaten up eye before he shakes his head and stares at the door behind me. I half expect Neal to be standing there but I know he’s somewhere upstairs, no doubt crying or burning things or something monumental to end our relationship.

“Let’s get you out of here,” Justin says quickly. “I called a truck to come and take your car so it can get the scratch taken out of it. You can drive if you want to,” he offers while we get to our feet. I pick up my purse and fluff my disheveled hair. Marching past him I get right into the driver’s seat of his Escalade and he gets in the passenger seat. I would much rather have him drive, but I’m not going to let him see anymore into my feelings of rejection and loneliness. That is the last thing I need right now.

So I drive to the only place I know that will offer me solace and comfort.

***

“Denny’s? Why are we at an Denny’s?” Justin questions as I park the car and turn it off. I’m already out of his car and heading towards the restaurant. I really don’t care if he’s following me. He can sit in the car for all I care, but I need a Grand Slam like you wouldn’t believe.

A few minutes later I’m sitting in a booth and gazing at the menu, not looking up when I see Justin enter with a baseball cap pulled low over his head. I don’t know why he bothers with it right now; no one is going to recognize him with that huge black eye.

“Being in a public place with me looking like this isn’t exactly the best thing for me right now,” he whines as he sits down across from me and grabs another menu, hiding his face behind it. I sniff loudly, trying to break up the stuffiness in my nose before I look up at him and roll my eyes. A waitress comes by and we place our orders and soon we’re bathed in awkward silence. I want to say something because being left in silence is making me think about Neal and how we’re done and now I’m all alone and I messed everything up and…

“Do you need a tissue?” Justin asks softly and I look up at him, his figure a blur due to the tears welling up and falling from my eyes. I shake my head and swipe away the tears while Justin sighs and leans forward to get closer to me. “You know, you don’t have to act so strong about this. You have to be hurting, I mean you were dating for three years, you were practically married and…”

“Shut up, you’re making me feel worse,” I mutter and I rest my forehead on the table so I can avoid his penetrating stare. But even when I’m staring at my wrinkled skirt, the hot tears creating little puddles in my lap, I can still feel his eyes on me and I want nothing more than to reach across the table and blind him, or at least tell him to stop looking at me like I’m some kind of pity-fest.

“You’re a strong person, you’ll get through this and hopefully in a few months you can say ‘Neal who?’ and get on with your life.” I don’t think Justin understands why I’m so upset with this whole breakup. For one, there were the accusations that Neal threw at me and all of them are completely untrue. Another is the fact that I have no feelings for Justin outside of a very complex friendship that always ends up with one of us yelling at the other. And Neal was the only person I could talk to about how much of a prick Justin is being and he’d jump right in there and add his two cents as well.

Now who will I talk to?

I’m about to give him a smart ass comment but all of a sudden Freddie Mercury decides to add his two cents by ringing from my purse. Scrambling for my phone, I have the half-baked notion that it’s Neal calling to take me back. I watch with curiosity as Justin gets up and walks towards the bathroom, no doubt giving me privacy. Picking up the phone, I glance at the Caller ID and try my best to ignore the devastated feeling in my stomach.

“Hi, Mom,” I say sullenly into the phone and I’m hoping to God she doesn’t catch on that I’m a little less excited than usual to talk to her.

“Oh Laurie, darling how are you?”

I feel like shit and I was just dumped by my boyfriend. “I’m fine, how are you?”

“Lovely. Madagascar is magnificent! You should come out here and spend a week or two with us.” I can hear some kind of bird squawking in the background and my father’s voice coming through the receiver.

“Shelly come here! We need a picture of this bird!”

“Not now Dean, I’m talking to our only daughter. Take it yourself, you have the camera,” Mom snaps at Dad before she brings her attention back to our conversation, “So things are going alright? You still aren’t working for that tyrant of a man, are you?”

My parents don’t approve of me working for Justin. They were never ones to believe in the whole selling out to mega-corporations and they think I’m better suited at some indie record label rather than following around a multi-million dollar, egotistical musician. I don’t tell them half the stuff that Justin puts me through because I know for a fact they’ll be on the first flight back to Los Angeles, ready to give Justin a piece of their mind, while taking photos of his dogs in the process.

“Yes,” I mumble into the phone and I roll my eyes when she scoffs in response. It isn’t my fault my boss can’t be a courteous gentleman towards my plights and me. Well he’s being nice right now but I’m sure once I get better and over this newly formed heartache he’ll return to the same asshole he’s always been.

“We aren’t going to get into that topic of conversation because you know how your father and I feel about your boss and etcetera, etcetera,” Mom continues and I want nothing more than to fake bad reception and hang up, but she’s spending an entire plane ticket to call me right now and I have to be thankful that I talk to my parents at least once a month. Some young adults would revel in that freedom but sometimes it gets a little lonely to know your parents are halfway around the world. Kind of discomforting if you ask me. “But I wanted to ask a favor of you.”

“Go ahead.”

“Well if your boss will allow,” she says sarcastically as if getting a pardon from my boss was like going to the king to ask for permission to do something, “could you take a week or two off to go back home and check on the house and make sure it’s in working order and the farm is still running and Clive hasn’t died?”

Me, go back home? Is she crazy? I haven’t been home since college and I really don’t want to go back there with my tail between my legs right after my boyfriend dumped my butt to the curb. Because the thing you need to understand about Worden, Montana is that it’s tiny. Like super tiny. The last time I spent any time there, the population was just reaching five hundred and the city council was debating if a second traffic light should be installed on Main Street. And my mom wants me to go back there after I’ve spent most of my adult life running around the concrete jungles of the world? To make sure our house is in order and that our farmhand isn’t rotting in his cottage?

“Take Neal with you, or Melissa. Just bring one of your friends with you, Lauren. I don’t like the thought of you traveling alone…”

“Says the woman who’s been to more places in the world than my boss,” I state sarcastically. I guess now would be a good point to explain that my parents consider Neal to be like a son to them and now he’s estranged himself from the family for good. Wonderful. And the last time I checked, I didn’t even give my mother an affirmed statement that I would be going.

“I travel with your father, thank you very much. Just take a friend.” Too bad Neal and I are no longer together and Melissa is busy with a new account at work. There really isn’t anyone else to take.

I promise Mom that I’ll head up to Worden in a few days and I’ll take a travel buddy just to make her feel better. Once my phone is secured in my purse, Justin saunters back to the table, trying his best to stay incognito.

“What was that about?” he asks.

“For someone who’s all about keeping his private life private to the media, you certainly are nosey,” I bite at him and my stomach growls. On top of being heartbroken, irked by my mother’s commands, I’m also hungry as hell and I’m wondering why the people are taking so long with my Grand Slam.

“Touché.”

“If you really must know it was my mother. She wants me to go back home for a few days so I’ll need a week and a half off…” I start and I know that he’s going to say no. I can just feel it.

“Okay. Where’s home again.” That was a shocker. Time off with no questions asked? He must be taking pity on me due to the whole Neal thing.

“Worden, Montana. It’s really small…” I begin and he interjects.

“Like Shelby Forest?”

“Think smaller and more dust than rain,” I state and he nods his head thoughtfully.

“Sounds like fun, when do we leave?”

“As soon as, wait,” I pause when the full meaning of his words hit me, “What do you mean, ‘we?’” He shifts forward and leans across the table again, looking at me with a sincere gaze.

“Well do you really think I’ll be able to handle being on my own for almost two weeks? Trace is going to New York to work on the William Rast line and I have no idea how to handle any of my business shit. Besides, I need a vacation before heading down to Miami to finish the rest of the album, so why not go to Montana before then? And the last thing you need is to go up to a town that’s smaller than Shelby Forest all by yourself after that break up. In a place that boring you might start cutting yourself to take away the pain or go cow tipping or some hick shit like that.”

I can’t help myself and I start to laugh at his monologue before I sniff away the tears that were starting to fall.

“What?”

“I haven’t gone cow tipping since the eleventh grade,” I muse and his uninjured eye widens in shock while his jaw falls open.

“Are you serious? I was just kidding.” A spout of mumbled laughter falls out of my mouth and I look down at my lap once more. It’s strange to think that a mere two hours ago I was getting dumped by the man I thought I was going to marry and now I’m sitting in a random Denny’s with my enemy boss turned somewhat confidant. It’s times like this where I need to tell myself that excessive drinking at parties should be avoided. But for some reason, I kind of like this.

***