Regardless, I’m embarrassed that she heard me and I hope she won’t remember any of this in the morning.
“You gave me a fright.”
She’s not supposed to be up and out of bed and sounding mostly sober; she’s supposed to be passed out so she can’t hear the nervous ramblings of a madman in the dark.
Juliet rubs her eyes sleepily with the back of her palms.
“I gave you a fright? Did we hop back in time while I was sleeping and go back to the eighteen hundreds?”
“Oh—you went to bed drunk and woke up a comedian?” I ignore her, climbing up and off my bed. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
“I have to pee,” she mutters, still sounding drunkish, feeling around the wall for the bathroom door. “Where is the damn light in this god awful place, I can’t see where I’m going.”
God awful place? Does that mean she hates it in here, too? Or is she just pissed she can’t find the toilet?
She grapples, still feeling along. “Where are the lights?”
“Don’t turn the light on.” I sound like an idiot.
“Why?”
Animals.
Murderers.
Creeps in the other cabins who might be trying to look inside.
Wow, I sound paranoid.
Juliet huffs, irritated, and I imagine her hands on her hips. “Well if I can’t turn the light on, how am I supposed to see what I’m doing, Davis?”
Pee without the lights, on so the bears don’t see us?
Duh. “Haven’t you ever had to pee in the dark? How hard can it be for a girl, you don’t have to do it standing up and aim for the toilet.”
“I have to find the toilet first, you shithead.”
So sassy.
“Here, I’ll help you.” I tap the flashlight on my phone so it shines in her direction, a tiny beacon to guide her.
When Juliet shields her eyes with the crook of her arm, the light flashes in her direction and I notice then that she’s not wearing pants anymore.
I avert my eyes even though she can’t see me staring. It just seems like the polite thing to do.
The bathroom light flicks on despite my efforts and grumbling and I groan when she accidentally drops the toilet seat, making way too much noise.
Shh, I want to tell her. Quiet, the bears!
I climb back onto my uncomfortable, too small, one blanket “bed”.
Inside the bathroom, Juliet coughs, gargles mouthwash at the sink and spits.
There is more cumbersome toilet seat banging, toilet flushing, nose blowing and quite honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point if she didn’t decide to take a shower.
From my spot on the bed, I hold the flashlight in the direction of the bathroom door when it opens and Juliet’s head pops out.
“What are you doing over there?” she groggily asks—I can feel her staring in my direction, the only light my phone. “Are you hiding under blankets?”
She’s not supposed to notice that sort of thing; not in her inebriated state.
“No, I’m not hiding under the blankets—I only have one and it’s basically a tissue.” I hesitate. “Why? Does it look like I’m hiding under blankets?”
“Yes, but I’m the one who’s drunk,” she jokes, shuffling toward the little bedroom at the back of the camper, feet dragging across the ground. “Okay buddy, I’m going back to bed.”
The flashlight ray trails along after her.
Slowly she creeps onto the bed, my small light bouncing shadows throughout the unit. The shape of the faucet in the kitchenette. The bathroom door that’s swung back open then crept closed again…
…Juliet’s feet as she climbs forward across the mattress on her hands and knees before collapsing in a heap.
I grin.
She’s an odd one that little Juliet. I feel like I’m finally beginning to figure her out; at first she was as prickly as a little cactus because she thought she had to be on her friend’s behalf. In Juliet’s mind, Mia was obviously wearing rose colored glasses when it comes to her boyfriend.
Juliet feels the need to do it for her—the judging and the watching for red flags.
That’s a loyal friendship.
I would want my friend to do the same; let me know if he thought the woman I was seeing was in it for the wrong reasons. Money, power, or fame—only one of which I have these days. Once I stopped playing ball, the power and the fame went with it and oddly enough, I wouldn’t go back to those days in a million years.
Too many women who didn’t love me.
Too many women who only wanted to be photographed with me in public.
Let’s not talk about Willa, who I moved into my house, who I found out was using me.
In the next room, Juliet emits a loud snore.
She really relaxed this evening and I don’t think it was all due to the alcohol—we’ve known each other for almost eighteen hours now and she’s beginning to thaw toward both Thad and myself—it’s clear she doesn’t see us as the bad guys anymore.