Cole
Four months later
Abbey never called me. I still think about her now and then, during drawn out meetings and endless international flights. I can't remember every detail of our time at Helix but I will always remember how amazing that woman smells. The scent has been embedded into my memory. Lilacs and raspberries. I can still remember how that silk blond hair glided through my fingers and how smooth her skin felt against my lips. She was beautiful. It was that genuine type of beauty seldom found in the social circles I'm part of; there was no superficiality about her. In fact, the first thought that crossed my mind when she sat down next to me was how out of place she seemed in that club. Something about her stuck out. She didn't belong there, not in that capacity anyway.
For a second I pictured her back home on Long Island, baking cookies with my mom. It was surreal and entirely too sentimental for me. The solution was drinking more and getting lost in the part of her that didn't count. The fake part that punched the clock at Helix and didn't exist in the real world.
I didn't count on how the rest of that night would go, or how it would affect me going forward.
I've tried to track her down, get a phone number or address, but have come up empty. The owner at Helix is no help. He called Abbey a cheap whore who wasn't worth my time. I cursed him out in an attempt to defend her honor, but it got me nowhere.
My brother, Mitchell, has promised to do some research while I'm away. I'm not sure how much time I'll have to focus on her when I come back though. Recent events have taken over my lifestyle and it's all I can do to stay on top of my priorities.
Take last night for example. The last thing I remember about it is paperwork. Lots of it. Oh, and the wine.
There was lots of that too.
The shrill chirp of my cell phone goes off in my ear. I let it go to voicemail once, then again. Still, the chirping doesn't relent. This caller is persistent.
It's probably my boss.
I let it ring. I never do that.
This week is different. Today is different.
I don't remember falling asleep here. My vision is blurry, I'm extremely dizzy and my head is pounding. No doubt the beginning of a fierce hangover. The desk is a jumbled mess of paperwork I have no time to organize this morning. I spot that bottle of Pinot from last night sitting at the edge, empty. Crazy, I don't have a clue when that happened. The numbness felt amazing once my buzz kicked in and everything else fell away.
Being a sloppy drunk isn't my thing, but I have an excuse this time.
I was alone last night after we got back from the bar. That's not unusual, but last night the emptiness of my apartment put me in a state of despair I couldn't overcome. Not sober anyway. Mitchell offered to come over with some of our friends to lend support but I turned him down. Getting my head together was important and I didn't think I would achieve that surrounded by a group of people. Maybe it was the wrong choice. Every emotion that had been looming inside me seemed to take over the moment I shut myself away from civilization.
It took forty five minutes before I started to cry. I don't cry. When something is bothering me I suck it up and move on.
Last night I couldn't. It made me angry.
That's when I opened the wine.
My phone rings again. I rub my face, feeling the three day old stubble pricking the tips of my fingers. I cough, wheeze. It takes several minutes to catch my breath. This is happening too often.
I'm falling apart.
My phone is discovered moments later, buried underneath the paperwork. It stops ringing and immediately starts over again. Miraculously, I'm able to answer it this time.
"Donner."
"Cole, are you coming out? You're an hour late."
My driver. He's concerned this morning and with good reason. I'm never late. To anything. Alarmed, I glance at the clock on the wall.
Ten past eight.
Fuck.
"I need another hour," I mutter.
"No problem. I'll call ahead and let the flight crew know. I'm out in front," he says.
I toss the phone back on the desk and squeeze my eyes shut, pushing my hands through my hair in an effort to get my head together. It doesn't help. Everything is a fucked up jumbled mess. If I wasn't hungover there's no doubt I would feel exactly the same.
My phone starts to ring again. I groan, anticipating another call from my driver, or the office. Maybe my boss....
Probably my boss.
"Donner."
"Are you still at the apartment?"
My mother.
Shit.
"I'm uh—I was just leaving."
"Cole!"
"Hi Mom."
"Don't hi mom me. Were you out drinking with your brother again?"
"Sort of."
"Damn it. I told him not to—"
"Don't blame Mitchell. We weren't even out that late last night."
"But you were drinking."
"Well—-yeah."
"Cole, we talked about this. You said you were serious. If you're going to be serious, you can't continue to treat your life as a twenty four hour free for all."
"I know. I know that, all right? I just—"
"They're kids. You remember what it was like, don't you?"
I pause. She's right, but she always is. "Yeah, I do."
"There's still time to back out of this. I have plenty of resources and can help you make the phone calls. There are other options."
I pause, rub my face, trying to rid myself of the stress. She means well. She worries, my mother. She doesn't know if I'm up for this.
I don't know if I am.
But I can't turn my back. I just can't.
"Cole?"
"I'm going to get in the shower."
She sighs. "I'm worried. You're used to living your life a certain way, and that's fine. I just don't see how you're going to fit two children into the equation."
I scrunch my lips together, choosing my words carefully. I don't want her to be upset. Not after all of her sacrifice. I can handle this on my own.
"I'll work through it. I can handle this. They deserve better, and I can give it to them."
"I know you can. I just worry about your progress with the firm and your father keeps talking about the projects you're working on as if you're going to come home and get right back to work."
I chuckle. "You know how dad is."
"It's going to take some time for you to get them acclimated. You need a couple of weeks, just you and them. Do you understand that?"
"Of course I do."
"Well it's important. It was different for you. I was home all the time."
"Mom, everything is going to be fine all right? I'll find good help."
"Are you sure you won't change your mind about my offer? I'll make the trip with you, I can be there in an hour."
"I have to do it on my own. I really appreciate the offer though."
She doesn't respond for awhile. That means she's disappointed with me.
"Have a safe flight, Cole. I love you."
"I love you too," I say, gently. "Bye."
I hang up and silence my phone. No more calls until I get on the plane.
The shower feels good on my skin, wakes me up. My mind begins to clear. I bend over and vomit onto the tile a couple of times. Disgusting. My housekeeper is going to curse me straight to hell when she sees the mess.
I'll have to make it up to her.
Putting myself together for the flight is more of a challenge. Shaving is a no go. There's no energy for that. Instead, I put together a decent outfit for my arrival this afternoon and comb my hair out of it's tousled heap, styling it into the normal look. I stare at my reflection, sighing heavily at the sad soul staring back. The fatigue has taken over, leaving eyes surrounded by puffy bags of skin and dark circles. The complexion is a greenish white color, almost alien.
"Get it together, Cole," I tell him. "Suck it up."
I spend another twenty minutes gathering my thoughts before walking out of the building. My driver, Simon, meets me at the curb and takes my bags before opening the door for me. I duck into the limousine, tilt my head back against the soft leather and close my eyes, trying to force a nap.
It doesn't work. Once the limo begins to move my gut twists and turns. Simon has to pull over just before we hit the FDR and I vomit into a nearby garbage can. He offers to cancel the flight so I can go back home.
I consider it, but missing the trip would only make this situation worse. There are no choices. All I can do is push forward and hope I can get through this weekend on my own.
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