The Art of Being a F*ck Up

29. The End of the Goddamn World

Just outside my window there are birds singing, peaceful, serene, stupidly unaware that there is no cause for joy when they wake me up. So much of last night is lost, vanished from my mind in a flood of alcohol and missing minutes, but there are still parts that remain. I remember Bill, and Jonah, and I remember why it feels like my head might split in two right now, even though that's not even the worst of it. I had thought what I did to my fiancé—robbing him of his one shot—was the worst thing I could possibly do. I've been hating myself for days because of it, but even that starts to pale when I remember just one more thing from last night.

Maddy.

It's all my fault, the same as everything else, why do I always have to be so fucking stupid? I got careless with her, I didn't see what was happening right under my nose this whole time, and I definitely didn't make it any better by kissing her. That part's a little fuzzy though, and I start to reinvent it, to explain it away or make it not so bad, I tell myself that I didn't kiss her—she kissed me. That makes it okay, right? Well, not okay, but then at least I'm not the one to blame. I'm not really sure what happened after either, but I would've pushed her off, I would've apologized and told her to go home. I wouldn't have betrayed the man I love in the worst way possible. Again.

There was a time where I got so good at lying that I was even able to convince myself to believe those little white lies, and I've almost fooled myself again, but then I hear it. A quiet hum, indistinct almost, one I might just as easily miss if I wasn't so aware now, frozen in a gripped panic as the blankets shift around me. My mind struggles to explain this one away and I can't quite fool myself, but I slowly start to roll over anyway to see just how my night of heavy drinking ended.

"Fuck!" I exclaim quietly, an involuntary squeak that swells up from my throat. When I see Maddy laying in bed beside me I think I might break down in tears all over again. How did she get here? How did I? Even worse than having to wonder what happened is knowing that I haven't the slightest goddamn clue—I can't remember a single thing about last night after that kiss. I mean I know she's pretty, I've always thought that, but I swear to god I'm not attracted to her like that, how would I have even got it up to have sex with her? Watching her in horrifying revelation, sleeping peacefully with her hair in a tangled mess all around her head, I'm reminded that I've managed before.

In a hushed panic I recoil violently, practically falling out of the bed and pushing myself across the floor, all the way until my back is pressed up against the dresser. What am I going to say to her when she wakes up? Does she have any regrets about what we did—if we actually did anything? I'm still trying to find a way to get out of this, but too many of the worst thoughts flood my imagination. What happens now, and were we safe? I don't even have any condoms, it's not like me and Jonah use them. Jonah! How am I ever supposed to explain this? If he finds out it'll be the end—the end of us, and the end of the goddamn world.

All that drinking I did finally comes back for revenge when my stomach heaves uncomfortably, and I scramble to my feet to make a break for the bathroom. I barely fall to my knees in time over the toilet, throwing up what little I have left in me. My whole body shakes and I know none of this is from drinking, but I still wait until I'm sure the worst of it's passed before I get up and go to wipe my mouth at the sink. I still can't stand my reflection in the mirror, but I finally notice the pair of shorts I'm wearing under the same baggy tee from yesterday.

I don't remember putting them on, and if I woke up wearing them then maybe I didn't do anything with Maddy after all. It's a sad and desperate excuse, but it's all I've got. After having puked up my guts I'm still all kinds of panicked, but I try my best to calm down, to think about it sensibly—pragmatically, as Jonah would. I have to talk to Maddy, no matter how much I hate the thought, I need to feel her out to see what all we did. She's smart, sure, and I'm hoping she's smart enough to know that whatever might've happened doesn't mean anything, no matter how small.