Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
7
He was leaning on the balcony, looking at me, and somehow lighting up a joint which he must have carried in with him. He was wearing only pants, his dress shirt somewhere across the room.
"I have a lot to do, and I have to get back," I paused in the doorway to the balcony.
"Want some?" He extended his joint to me.
I hesitated, but took a drag. It was something strong but it kept me feeling down. Though I knew I had to be alert enough to get back home, and I already was a hungover from last night.
"It helps with the hangover," he said as if reading my mind.
I took another drag and gave it back to him.
"Before you go, at least give me your number?" He took it back from me, our fingers touching each other, an electrical show running through me.
For all his confidence, I thought I could sense a little apprehension in his voice, as if he actually thought I wouldn't give him my number after last night.
I grabbed the hotel pen and notepad, jotted it down on the paper and handed it to him.
"Of course," he chucked when he saw it since it was my American number.
"Well," I said, "see you around."
I wasn't quite sure how to make a graceful exit now or if one was even possible.
He put out his smoke, and followed me to the door where he left me with a lingering kiss.
It was as if I'd never see him again.
I was so scared of that.
I walked out of the hotel, and the blaring sun was shocking to my eyes.
I peered out around the street, and walked to the nearest taxi which was easy enough.
But right away I felt a little off , in my last night's dress.
The driver smirked at me from the mirror, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin and into my own bed.
I looked at the little mirror in my purse, trying to assess the damage, and was mortified to see that he left two spots on my neck. One small one on the left and one large on on the right.
A sudden flashback came to me, him kissing my neck. Biting my neck in a way I thought I couldn't handle but he was able to expertly walk the line between flesh and blood.
I wondered how much concealer I would need to cover that, determined that nobody would see this or know about what happened.
I got home early enough though that there was no movement in the house - yet. Sundays were the only days the family slept in and also the only day we all had to be together at brunch: father's rules.
I sneaked in through the garden door, and tiptoed to my room. Thanking the Gods that nobody saw me or my love bites, doing my best to cover it with my hair.
Taking a quick shower, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open until the very moment my head hit the pillow.
I think I only slept no more than 2 or 3 hours because I woke up from the sounds coming downstairs. My mom knocked on my door and came in, something she hasn't done since I was young to wake me up.
"Good morning Clementine," she came up and gently sat at the foot of my bed, petting my legs.
"How did you sleep?" She asked me softly.
"Fine," I lied to her, already, first thing in the morning.
"Good," she put her arms in her lap, "I wanted to say thank you. For behaving...properly last night. Your father really appreciates it, he needed it."
Last night? Oh right, I wasn't sure if she saw the brief confusion that flashed across my eyes but she was right. I did behave so well at that dinner. But she didn't know why.
Then I felt a wave of apprehension about last night, and everything that happened after that dinner.
"Anyway," she said, getting up to go to the door, "get dressed, we'll be waiting for you downstairs."
————
At the breakfast table, in the veranda outside, reserved for weekends and special occasion brunches, it was all Clementine could do to keep quiet and reserve herself from making eye contact with Laticia. Ernesto called in sick that day.
"Clementine," her father spoke in her direction, "you are clearly down today. Your mother and I wanted to thank you for your...behaviour last night," her father said eventually, as id at a loss for words.
The whole family continued eating their eggs in silence, forks clacking against plates.
"To be honest," he continued, "we weren't quite sure what to expect since you arrived," it seemed that he wanted to say more but Clementine's mother interjected:
"What he means, to put it delicately, is that we were worried. For you." She took a moment to peer into her eyes before taking drink of her mimosa.
Clementine than took a sip of her own drink, and wasn't sure if the alcohol was going to make her headache worse or if it was going to make for a smoother come down.
To be fair, she thought, her parents had a point. The letter that the school sent them wasn't exactly a 'light' one. And the meetings with the therapists was also a new adjustment for the family to accept and acknowledge whole-heartedly.
"I'm fine," Clementine produced a forced smile and no more questions were asked.
In reality, Clementine was feeling a lot of things, and fine was not necessarily one them.
Physically, she was tired. Emotionally, she was finding herself to be slightly more caught up in last night's encounter, than she hoped to be. She was finding her own mind drifting to Zico and their little adventure last night a lot during that breakfast.
The first thing she did though, when she got back to her room was let her head hit her pillow and fall into a deep dream-less sleep where nothing could touch her.
