In the darkness of her drawn curtains, I turn on the light and pull out the comforter. This makes her react in a fraction of a second. She holds her head and stifles a grumble as she sits down.
“Ty, can’t it wait? My head hurts too—”
“Whose fault is that? I won’t be long. Just listen. You brought “that guest” despite my warning. I don’t care what Murphy thinks; I’ll set the rules for the rest of this since my space just got smaller…”
“Can we… can we talk about it later? Please, Ty,” Sophia begs me, completely off.
Obviously distraught too.
“No, now! What I have to tell you is take it or leave it, so you’re going to listen to me carefully…”
When I finish stating the terms of the new “arrangement,” Sophia feels the effect. I’m not convinced that, in her condition, she has assimilated everything. However, I don’t have time to wait for her to sober up, and my nerves won’t last a second longer, so I add, “Last point, Sophia: I have brought forward my trip to Qatar. My jet leaves tonight.”
“But when are you coming back? Are you going to avoid us? Punish me?”
I’m just taking a step back before the James Sexton reception. And I refuse to be destabilized, to let this breach in my filter get bigger. It took me a long time to set it up, damn it! Maybe it’s not just Sophia who’s been pushed around this time, Murphy suspects it, and I don’t like it…
“Ty, please… These new rules… You can’t mess everything up like that; that’s not what we agreed on.”
“What are you afraid of now, Sophia? That I end up having a hard-on for another woman under our roof, a woman you’ve chosen? Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”
“I just want you to reconsider our—”
“The debate is over. You know my position. But did you warn her? Did you think about it yourself before going for it like this?”
“I—”
“Make an appointment with Murphy.”
Despite her pallor and the consequences of too much drink, a familiar glow burns deep in her eyes. The one I have seen shine hundreds of times amid her sighs. Our fluids mixed, our sweaty bodies… Damn, this is getting out of hand. I really need to get away!”
“If I convince Océane, you could have her and me,” she insists.
“Do you hear yourself haggling? Hey, come down, for God’s sake! Do you think you can convince an innocent young lady to enter the intimacy of our couple?”
“Who knows? I might… I miss it, Ty. I miss you.”
Everything is going wrong, damn it! My jaw clenches again, my fingers digging into my hair.
“Get your strength back and call Murphy,” I tell her again. “I’ll be back for that damn gala. Whether the blondie comes with us or not will be your decision. You can still kick her out…”
***
Océane
Argh, damn, my head!
I tap my tousled hair, and it feels like a vice is crushing my temples as soon as I open my eyelids. What time is it? What did I do? Partying too much with my roommates? I close my eyes, the pain pulsing in my skull. I reopen them, moaning.
A refined room with impeccable, bourgeois decor. What’s the big deal?
Where am I?
Shit, shit, shit! I don’t recognize the place at all! I panic and dart up off of the bed. A moan of pain escapes my pasty mouth. I hold my forehead and close my eyes again. I try to connect to something, to find a valid explanation, fragments of memory…
The contract. Yes, I signed a contract! And a confidentiality agreement too.
The Van Damme look-alike! The famous driver in front of the roommate. No, more like my old home. Damn, yes! I accepted Sophia Sexton’s proposal. We went shopping, we did… blank… We did what? And this is her place?
I use my wobbly reserves of energy to get up. My denim shorts are open, and I’m not wearing a top, just a bra. How did I… Blank… Misery! I inspect around me. A basin and a glass of water sit on the bedside table. As well as a box of migraine tablets and a washcloth. Who gave them to me? Sophia? She was as soaked as I was in my loose memory. Note to self: never again abuse this thing that we have not stopped drinking in the showroom. It’s the first day of my au pair stay, and I already feel like a wreck.
My T-shirt, where’s my T-shirt? And my phone? My God, what if I had done something stupid? Sent messages in France or online?
I wince as I move. Let’s not panic; let’s get the facts straight first.
And what the hell, it smells like… I don’t know what’s worse. The gaps in my memory to fill in or the fact that I let myself go so much, with an almost stranger and so far from home? I stare at the room, my eyelids wrinkled. Roses, lilies, and white tulips, that’s where the delicate smell comes from that would almost dissipate the alcohol I’m soaked in. A large, refined crystal vase is filled with these fresh flowers on a chic vintage chic dresser. My Instax and my phone are next to it. Yes! At least two things found!
I grab the phone. No compromising photos or videos. Phew!
Text? No, too much right now; my belly is turning over. And I have to locate myself first. Nothing else belongs to me here. No clothes. But I’m not going to walk around in a bra, am I?
Maybe I already did? Total blur…
I continue my quest and find the adjoining bathroom. Easy, there is only a glass front between it and the bedroom. A gagging heart pushes me to rush in. I fall to my knees facing the toilet, and throw up an excess of liquid. Misery!
I flush the toilet. Above the vanity top, a sophisticated mirror displays the date, time, and weather in one corner. Saturday, seven twenty-six. Still sunny, eighty degrees outside. Have I been sleeping for that long?
Great, Océane. You are off to a good start! Masterful crash!
I discover my tidy toiletries… That’s already a beginning. Might as well brush my teeth and agonize under the shower until I feel less lame. Under the warm jets on my body, my mind looks like a smokescreen. From 11 a.m. to 7:26 p.m., what the fuck did I do? Where did this bruise on my knee come from? No explanation comes to me…
You created a remake of The Hangover, and you screwed everything up?
This possibility is just scary because it is too likely. I put on a bathrobe and go to swallow a tablet of paracetamol. I lay back in bed again, eyes closed… Music. Was there music? Maybe my phone will fill in my memory gaps if I used playlists or something? I go back to grab it near the vase, and suddenly I see something I had missed… A card is slipped in the middle of the floral composition.