The Only Living Boy in New York

ELEVEN

Van

It was the beeping of a car on the street that woke me. My eyes darted open at the noise and after a few seconds, my vision changed from blurry patches to fine lines and details.

I was not in my room.

The walls were too dark and the windows were too large for my house. I looked around nervously, not noticing a thing that looked familiar. My shirt was off but I was still in my jeans. I exhaled as I sat up and pressed my feet into the floor below me. I cradled my head in my hands and rubbed it. My head was pounding and my mouth was heavy with dryness. I reached for a bottle of water that was laying on its side on the floor and wasted no time drinking half of it down, but the lukewarm liquid laid in my stomach unevenly and I wondered if drinking it that fast was a good idea. I groaned at the feeling and rubbed my temples harder, trying to calm the thunder rattling my brain.

I stood up and felt like I immediately needed to sit back down. The room spun counterclockwise for a moment, at least until I got my bearings straight. Across from the bed I was in, my shirt was dangling off a chair and my phone was next to it. I reached for both with a sigh of relief and pushed my arms through the sleeves slowly, trying not to mess my equilibrium up as I moved. I had no idea where I was, what to expect and who I would find on the other side of the door. Ivy's name found it's way into my mind and I froze. For a split second, I worry that I've broken my own rule and I somehow ended up at her place and I didn't make it home. The thought makes me feel unhinged and I begin to worry about what this means, especially for Taylor and I.

I freeze.

Taylor.

Her name puts everything at ease and I let out another sigh and sit back down. Faded memories of last night come rushing in quickly and I nab them when I can, doing my best to piece together moments so I can remember something. I remember walking quickly to her place, and then not knowing what I was going to say when I arrived. She met me outside and let me in, she was nervous, slow moving and tired even, and I felt sorry for intruding this late in the evening. But she brought me in and that's where things became fuzzy. I'm not sure what transpired and what led to me staying the night, but I was definitely in Taylor's house. I relax slightly at the thought, exhaling my way into a smoother state of mind. Being somewhere someone knows me, is better than the alternative of being somewhere where I don't know myself.

I stood up and walked to the bedroom door, opening it slowly and stepping out into her hallway. There's a bathroom across from me and I mutter a silent prayer as I step into it to clean up, splash some water on my face, and use the bathroom. I look better than I expected to, but I still feel like garbage. I step out of the bathroom and walk down the hall slowly, the floor creaking along the way. I spot her when I enter the living room, curled up on a spot on the couch, clutching a mug in her hands. She sees me emerge and smiles softly, that familiar pink hue staining her cheeks. My steps slow and chest tightens, but I push it sideways and try not to focus on the fact that this is the first time I've seen her in the morning like this. She is laid back and easy, unwound and reposed.

I make my way to the chair in her living room and sink into it, wincing and shutting my eyes along the way. It's been too long since I've felt like this. I don't know if I want to ever again. I know I've said it before and I'm immediately displeased with my decisions from the night before. The liquor did me in, as it always did: my vice. My addiction. The problem that led to a million other problems. The problem that I kept a tight latch on, until last night. And judging by the way I felt, that problem turned into a wildfire.

"How you doing?" Taylor's voice cut through the silence and I tilted my head toward her.

"Terrible. And I'm not sure why I'm here."