Under Glass

Chapter 9 - Escape

Her motions looked and felt as though she was suspended in water. Dressing took her longer; showering was the worst because she'd actually forgotten if she washed her hair three times or not at all. Traylor had forced her to go through the motions of appearing clean. She really didn't give a fuck about the cigarette smell that permeated her skin and hair.

Fuck this party. Fuck this day. Fuck this year.

This was supposed to be a fun time. She was supposed to be drunk on margaritas. As soon as she thought it, pain exploded throughout her body and she doubled over. James was dead and she was pissed she missed her vacation.

She ambled into the kitchen, putting off getting dressed. Pouring whiskey in a large tumbler was her solution to her pain. Agony filled her mind constantly and she needed to numb her brain. That was the only way to get through tonight. She knew this was Traylor's way to help. It wasn't helping. It wouldn't help.

Her phone buzzed on the counter. "Yep?"

"I'm sorry I'm late."

"No worries, I don't want to go."

The sigh was so loud through the phone Caitlin almost felt bad. Almost. She didn't want to feel anything. She hung up the phone without another word.

She took her drink into the bathroom, humming to herself to break the stabbing silence. The lights amplified her sallow cheeks and dark circles. It's funny how no sleep for a week can change the way you look, the way you think...

"Everything wrong with me is your fault, James," she said out loud to herself. "And I'm the reason you're dead." Her head hung in shame.

Startled, she thought she heard a knock at the door. If Traylor was running late it couldn't be her, she thought. She was walking and slowly re-wrapping her robe just as Chris opened the door and stuck his head in. The whiskey must be working because she didn't even care he'd seen her in her underwear.

"Well, you've made my day. What do I owe you for that?" Chris's grin showed his amusement as he gave her a hug. "How are you doing?"

"You know." Caitlin didn't acknowledge Chris's playful comments and was baffled at him asking her how she was doing. Did people really want her to answer that question honestly?

"Traylor told me 7:00." Chris made himself comfortable by making himself a drink then flopping down on the couch.

"We're running a little late," she yelled from the bedroom. Caitlin welcomed the burning in her gut as she drank. She couldn't remember the last time she ate.

"Cigarette?" Chris called just before he shut the back door.

She pulled on black and white leggings, a white tank top and joined Chris outside. When she sat down he handed her a lit cigarette.

"Thanks." Her voice didn't even sound like her own anymore.

"Not a problem. So is it my duty to make sure you have a good time tonight?"

"I hope not," Caitlin quipped sarcastically blowing smoke in his face. "I'm pretty sure that is an impossible task."

"Somebody's got to do it." Chris grabbed her and lifted her easily in his arms, cradling her. He spun her around. It was a ludicrous thing to do when they both were mourning. She wanted to ask him about the funeral.

"I'm going to puke!" Caitlin felt the alcohol dance around in the cavern that was her empty stomach.

"Okay, I'll put you down, on one condition."

"What? Hurry..." The world spun around her. Pool, door, grill, pool, door, grill. Finally they gelled where she couldn't tell where one began and one ended.

"You try your best to forget yourself tonight." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he put her down then disappeared inside.

Dizziness overcame her so she slumped into the chair. She stared at the floor waiting for it to stop spinning.

"Well, I have something to help us forget about James and all that shit." Chris stood in the doorway smiling at her. The bag of marijuana he pulled from his pocket was half empty, it was clear how he was getting through this situation.

He sat down next to her and rolled a joint. Caitlin closed her eyes while he took a deep drag, the pungent smell made her hope she could forget. She wanted to forget. They smoked on her back porch until they were laughing about anything and everything.

They were still out there when Traylor finally arrived. "Oh God, it smells." Traylor's face was screwed up and she waved her hand exaggeratedly in front of her face.

She looked stunning in a yellow tank top, yellow and white shorts, and wedges. Chris burst into a fit of giggles, which was not very attractive. Men should not giggle. Caitlin glared at him and then gave up, cracking up herself.

"You ready?" Caitlin finally got out.

"You aren't." Traylor gave Caitlin the once over. "You aren't even wearing makeup."

"I look fine, it'll be dark anyway. Right?" She looked at Chris who just responded by laughing harder. "No one will care what I look like."

"What have y'all been doing out here?" Traylor stood up and pulled Caitlin from the chair. Then she pushed Caitlin toward her bedroom.

"Wait I need a drink," Caitlin whined dodging Traylor's grasp with a quick move to the left. She made another drink while Traylor disappeared into her room. Caitlin shuffled inafter her and watched as she rummaged through the disorganized closet. She finally found a red, sleeveless tunic.

"Here, put this on and sit down so I can put some makeup on you." Caitlin sat still long enough for Traylor to put lipstick and mascara on her.

"Guess I'm driving," Traylor commented as they walked out of the apartment.

Caitlin stared out the window and thought of nothing. It was refreshing. She blinked and they pulled into a parking place in front of an apartment with people spilling out the front door. People were laughing, talking. She was underwater.

She felt nothing as she entered the party. Chris handed her a drink. She swallowed it in three large gulps. Then another. Another. She lost count. Her brain was cloudy and she finally felt free.

She danced and talked, but mostly drank. It was such a relief from how she had felt for the past week. The alcohol and other chemicals in her body prevented her from being sad or feeling anything at all. She'd found her escape.

After a few hours, she didn't know what time it was anymore, Chris told her they needed to go. As they made their way to the entrance, a friend of James approached her. For a second she couldn't remember his name. "Lance," she said a little too loud.

He hugged her. "Caitlin, I'm surprised to see you out so soon." His eyes bounced from her to Chris. "You know James really loved you. How you holdin' up?"

"How do you think I'm doing? My boyfriend killed himself, I'm having a fantastic time. I'm actually trying to convince all of my friends to do it." The words spilled out of her. Chris clenched her wrist and tried to pull her out toward the car.

"Shit!" Lance looked around not knowing how to respond, his eyes finally come rest on the ground.

"Let it go," Chris commanded. He took Caitlin by the hand and led her to a sober driver's car.

Chris helped her into the back of the car.

"I'm sorry," Caitlin mumbled as she collapsed in his lap crying.

Chris pulled her hair gently out of her face and rubbed her back until they were back at her apartment. He helped her find the keys to her apartment. Then turned to get back into the car.

"Chris," Caitlin called. "Traylor was suppose to stay with me tonight. Since she is otherwise occupied..."

"Of course I'll stay." Chris waved at the driver signaling him to leave and then he followed Caitlin inside.