I grab his hand and pull him outside.
“Hey, baby,” he slurs. “I missed you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get in the damn car.”
“Want me to take you out back and rock your world?”
I shake my head. “I’ll pass.”
“Oh, come on.”
“Car. Now.”
He makes a face and trips over his own feet.Thisis the Noah Wilson I remember from our youth. It takes him more than one attempt to buckle himself in. Tired and cranky, I don’t talk on the way home. Noah wobbles his way inside and falls onto the couch.
“Get up and shower. You smell like an ashtray.”
He grumbles in response and doesn’t move. I cross my arms. “Noah, get up!” I tug on his arm. “This is pointless.”
He groans. “I don’t feel good.”
“Of course you don’t.”
“I think I’m gonna puke.”
Oh god. That’s another thing I do not want to deal with. I go to him and help him up, practically dragging him to the bathroom just in time for him to heave into the toilet. He slumps against it, retching. I’m fucking pissed, but I can’t leave him like that, not when he could choke.
It takes great effort, but I get him stripped from his stinky clothes, and drape a blanket around his shoulders. He throws up once more then lays on the bathroom floor. I get into bed but can’t sleep out of worry I’ll wake up and find Noah dead of alcohol poisoning or something.
He’s passed the fuck out when I check on him. Finally feeling he’s okay, I get back into bed for a few hours of sleep.
* * *
“Where is Noah?” Mom asks the next day. People are just starting to arrive for the baby shower that she’s hosting at her house.Ourbaby shower. That Noah isn’t at because I couldn’t get him to wake up this morning. He swatted his hand in the air and mumbled something incoherent. I gave up and left in tears, fixing my eye makeup in the car.
“He’s not feeling well,” I say, feeling like it’s a lie. Noah isn’t feeling well, but it’s because he for some reason got wasted last night. “He said it feels like the flu so he’s staying away and will be here later if he feels better. He’s napping now.” Dammit. I’m a horrible liar. I tend to overcomplicate things.
“Do you think you’re coming down with it? You look a little ragged today. Ragged, but beautiful.” Mom puts her hand on my stomach. “The flu is no fun when you’re pregnant. I got it twice when I was pregnant with Katie.”
“I think I’ll be all right.” I only look ragged because I’m tired. I text Noah to see how he’s doing and to tell him to get his butt over here. His mom will be here soon and I don’t want to lie to her, because she’ll probably know it’s a lie. Noah is her son, after all. She might not have been the best mother, but she knows him.
The shower starts, and I’m temporarily distracted. Then it’s time to open gifts, and I’m missing him. I don’t like sitting in front of people, opening presents. It’s awkward. What if I don’t like what someone got and they can see it on my face?
I send him another text and actually get a reply. He’s waking up and will be on his way. Thank goodness. I just need to stall for about fifteen minutes and I won’t have to open presents alone. How can I buy time? I can spend at least five in the bathroom, maybe? I don’t want people to think I’m pooping. That’s just as awkward as the gifts.
“Are you okay?” Rachel asks me when I sneak away from the living room into the laundry room. “What are you doing in here?”
“Uh, taking a minute.” It’s the truth. I plan to take at least ten of these minutes. “Just feeling overwhelmed with everything.” Another truth, but it feels so wrong to blame my unease on Ella.
“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? Seeing all the baby stuff makes it that much more real, I bet.”
“Yes, that’s it. I just need like five minutes to chill.”
“Take the time you need. I’ll tell Katie and she’ll distract the crowd.”
I smile at my best friend. “Thank you.” She gives me a hug and leaves to find my sister, who’s able to stall for ten minutes. I text Noah again, and he doesn’t reply. Maybe because he’s on his way? I can only hope.
Another ten minutes go by and I can’t get out of presents any longer. I sit on the couch and open them one by one, holding everything up for my guests to see. It takes forever to open everything. And Noah still isn’t here.