Chapter One

[AnnieMcD]

 

Chapter One

 

            I woke up the morning after my party with my head pounding.  It was going to be a long, long day.  Never in my thirty years had I woken up with a migraine before.  Apparently, 30 is the age at which I get hung-over.  The light was streaming through the windows of the hotel room in which my party had taken place.  I looked around the room, I was alone in the large bed, and Owen was nowhere to be seen.  I climbed out of the bed, quietly, and slowly, so as not to get sick and made my way to the living room of the suite.  There he was, collapsed adorably on the couch, curled up under my midnight blue velvet cloak.  Moving as silently as possible, I went into the kitchen to start a pot of coffee. 

            While the coffee brewed, I remembered the night before.  I was trashed.  I remembered Xander arriving, dressed to the nines as one of the more evil characters in our favorite book series.  The replay of the events that took place on their walk shocked me.  I remembered doing it all, but I couldn't believe I had been such a complete slut.  And with Owen just around the other side of the property! What was I thinking? 

            "You were thinking that he's gorgeous, and he makes you feel pretty and attractive, and Owen hasn't done that for years." A voice inside my head whispered, and I couldn't deny it.  Xander had never had a thing for big girls, and yet he was inexplicably attracted to me.  I had never understood that attraction, but I sure did appreciate it.  The whole thing made me feel special, that this man who was normally seen with Barbie knock-offs was willing to spend any time with me at all.  I thought back to our first kiss, in his truck, on the way back from the lake where we had gone out fishing on his boat.  His long hair had whipped across his face during the drive, and I reached up to remove the hairs from his face.  What happened next was straight out of a cheesy movie.  He looked into my eyes, reached his hand up and caressed my cheek, and brought his lips to mine.   If I hadn't known better I would have thought that the whole world had gone into slow motion. 

            "Brigid?" Owen's voice startled me out of my memories.  His arms wrapped around me from behind, and his mouth came to kiss the side of my neck like he used to.  "You made coffee!  You are a Goddess."  I turned and smiled at him, willing myself to be the chipper ray of sunshine the world is used to. 

            "Of course I did!  My head is killing me, and you had more than a few drinks too didn't you?  I felt that we would both need a jolt this morning.  Especially since your flight leaves this evening, and we still have to clean up here, and get some packing done before you leave." I grinned at him like the mad person I probably am, and handed him a cup of coffee, prepared just as he likes it.  "Let's get this room cleaned up and get home, shall we?"  I kissed his cheek, and went around him so that I could start loading the dishwasher. 

            The rest of the day was just as long as I had feared it would be.  We rushed to get out of the hotel room, and then came home and rushed some more to get him to the airport on time.  He was going to be out of town on business for the next two weeks, maybe more if things went well.  In the haste to get everything together for his trip, I was almost able to forget what a wanton whore I had been the night before.  Almost.  Still, every pang of guilt was preceded by a pleasant memory of Xander.  I would think of the nights we had spent together in his apartment, watching television, and then I would feel his lips touch mine again, and then my heart would rip in two again.  I hoped that I was able to hide this from Owen, but he asked me at least three times before he left if I was ok.

            "YES!" I finally shouted at him.  At the look on his face I softened, however.  "I'm fine.  You're going to be gone for god only knows how long.  I have work and school to worry about, but I'm going to miss you like crazy.  And I'm still feeling the effects of last night, so I'm not all put together right now, but I'll be fine, I promise."

            I spent our last hour together, assuring him that I would be well while he was gone and that his absence wouldn't be a terrible burden.  He kept saying that if his being gone would hurt me so badly, he would gladly stay.  But I simply couldn't allow that.  Between my erratic behavior, my errant thoughts, and the stresses that had existed between us for the last few months, I just needed the break.  At the airport, standing in line at security, I kissed him with more passion than I had for a long time.  I whispered in his ear that I loved him, and that I would talk to him every night.  I told him to be safe, be successful, and have fun.  And then I watched as he walked through the metal detector to board a plane bound for San Francisco. And then I went home and cried.

 

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            The next morning dawned bright and sunny.  My headache was gone, in more ways than one.  I knew that I would be able to go to and from work that day without stressing about what Owen was going to be like that today.  As a man who had both been abused as a child, and who had only recently been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome, Owen's moods could be unpredictable.  I showered and dressed with only the radio for company, and found myself to be singing as I left out the door for work.  I still had Xander nagging at the back of my mind, but I pushed thoughts of him back too, content to just be me for a day.  I am fortunate to work with a group of girls whom I am truly friends with, and we had a good time talking and laughing.  I sang in the car on the way home too, and pulled up to my house smiling, truly feeling like the happy girl that I have to pretend to be so often these days. 

            After dinner I called Owen to make sure he had gotten settled into his hotel ok, and that the business of the day had gone well.  He assured me all was fine, and we talked for a few moments.  But there wasn't much for us to talk about, so we hung up within ten minutes.  That reminded me of my recent conversations with Xander, which sometimes lasted hours.  After all we hadn't seen each other in nearly ten years, and we had a lot of catching up to do.  That thought, in turn, reminded me again of my actions on the night of the party.  Clearly, I wasn't over Xander, which is a bad thing when you're (mostly) happily married.  Should I call and apologize for my drunken emotional outburst?  Should I call, but pretend I didn't remember anything that had happened?  Or maybe I should just never call him again. 

            Never call him again.  That was clearly the correct choice.  After all, if I couldn't control myself around him, then there was no reason at all for me to try to be his friend.  Obviously, I had some marital issues that needed to be resolved before I spent any time at all alone with Xander.  Yes, that was the correct choice, of course it was.  Still... It would be rude to behave like that at not at least apologize.  Wouldn't it?  So I had to call him.  It's the polite thing to do.  I mean, it's not as though he had that courtesy when he disappeared on me, but that's why I had been so mad with him for so long.  I certainly wouldn't sink to that level.  I had to call him, to offer an apology, and an explanation as to why we couldn't be friends after all.   So I dialed the number I had memorized the first time he called me from, out of the blue, six months before.

 

 

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