The Higher We Soar

9. Oh, darling!

When my phone shattered the stillness of the night at a jarring 3 a.m., I immediately had a pretty good idea who was calling even before glancing at the screen. I cursed under my breath, muttering insults at anyone who came to mind. Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I fumbled to find the device amidst the tangle of sheets. For a moment, I hesitated, debating whether to let it ring or pick it up. Curiosity, however, won out.

"Madd?" I mumbled groggily, my voice thick with sleep. "You do realize what time it is, right? What's up?"

"Not m–me..." came his slurred response, punctuated by a weary sigh. "I might've, uh, gone a bit ov–overboard."

"Overboard?" I smiled, slowly sitting upright and attempting to shake off the drowsiness. "You sound pretty messed up."

"Yeah... I shh-shouldn't've had that l–last drink," he slurred, each word a struggle. "But wha' was I s'pposed to do? Zander said I talk too mm–much. I wanted t–"

"Uh-huh. Something tells me you shouldn't have had your last five drinks. It's the middle of the damn night, Madd. Can't this wait until morning? Or until you're sober?"

"I jus'... I jus' wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah, ok. Anything important?" I couldn't help but let out a chuckle, despite trying to maintain composure. "Because if you're calling to just talk to me, I'm hanging up."

"No, wait I– um. I h-have no idea how to get home... I think. But I rem–remember you. That's why I'm calling. 'Cause I remember you. You're one of the Beat-Beatles, right? You're my favorite Beatle."

"Thanks, Madd," I quipped once again. "Is someone with you? Can they take you home? Zander, you've said? What about Katie? You still mad at her?"

"Only my frieeendly bench," he drawled, his words melting into one another. "It didn't mind when I f--fell on it. Now we're, like, y--you know... like, together in our mise– myste– minst– ugh, what's the word..."

"Misery?"

"Mmmisery!" he laughed, then sighed, then laughed once more. "You're a genius. Holy shhhit, you're so smart..."

"Yes, I'm truly amazing. Are you still at the party? I can get you a cab–"

"Oh... no," he gasped. "Th-that was a dis...disaster. I don't think he liked m-my talking. Can you believe it? Mmme? Do I talk too much? 'Cause, like, I don't! But he... he th–thinks I do. Okay, everything's spinnin'... abandon the ship."

"Who?"

"Zander!" he panted. "It's his f–fault."

"Uh-huh." I slowly began to realize I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep. "Focus. So you're not at the party anymore?"

"No... I dunno. S–someone's coming, do you wan'to ask th–them?"

"No! No, do not give your phone to anyone. Don't hang up and work with me, Madd. You were at Molly's, right?" I was trying to confirm as I reluctantly looked around in search of my clothes. "Have you gone far from the pub? Maybe, to my luck, you have a taxi right under your nose?"

He grunted in response, my barrage of words and questions was evidently too much for his drunken head. I couldn't blame him; it seemed like even basic cognitive functions were a challenge at this point.

So I grunted as well, sharing his pain.

"Okay, Golden Boy. I'll come get you, okay? Stay put," I rubbed my temple, trying to ignore my anger that he was dragging me out of bed at this hour. "And don't make a mess in the meantime. Alright? Please confirm you've understood me."