say hello wave goodbye

41: maybe a thief stole your heart (1997)

October 1997

Lindsey had not intended to be out this late. Or rather, this early.

He was almost 50. Too old to be doing the walk of shame on a Thursday morning, waking up in an unfamiliar house hungover as fuck and not quite recalling how you got there.

It was just supposed to be one drink. Two, max. That was the whole point of inviting someone to come along with him, to keep himself from getting sloppy. He had done so well at cutting back on drinking over the last year or so- almost too well, he now knows, because he can't hold his liquor like he used to.

He can't keep his mouth shut like he used to either. Even though he can't remember everything he said, he knows he wouldn't have mentioned the baby. He didn't mention Stevie either. Not by name, at least, but it wouldn't take a genius to figure out who his ex who he got back together with and then broke up again with was. So he's not certain on the details, but he knows he talked, and talked, about how miserable he's been in a vague, abstract way. He's kinda horrified, because he doesn't do that. Maybe this is what happens when you go to therapy for a year and then abruptly quit.

His next recollection is of leaving the bar at closing time and having the good sense to hand over the keys. Unfortunately, he used all his functioning brain cells on making that decision and had none left when it came time to remember the name of the hotel he currently called home. She said she was too tired to drive all the way out to his actual house and that he could just crash at her place, and he was in no position to disagree. All he wanted was to sleep.

When they arrived, he kicked off his shoes and laid down on her couch. Things got blurry again after that, to where he could almost believe that the part where he had sex with her was all in his head. He doesn't remember how or why he ended up in her bedroom. The only thing he knows is that in his drunken state- God, she looked like Stevie. The young one he used to live with, who he had big dreams for the future with, the one he had petty fights over laundry and frying pans and lyric changes with but they always found their way back to each other in the end.

So yeah, it would've been easy to believe it was all a dream, a result of too many drinks and old memories. But when he woke up just a couple of hours later, the first slivers of morning sun coming through the blinds scorching his eyeballs, there was no mistaking that it was very real.

He wanted to flee while she was still asleep, but instead he tried to be a gentleman. It'd been so long since he'd had a one-off encounter with someone he wasn't dating that he had forgotten how to act. He apologized for making an ass of himself and thanked her for being willing to listen and put up with his shit, but politely told her that he didn't plan on making a habit of this and so she probably shouldn't expect a call back. That's what you were supposed to do, right? It was called setting boundaries or something like that, that's what his therapist had said when he described all the past girlfriends he just couldn't seem to let go of, or get rid of, depending on how you wanted to look at it.

Christ, he's way too old for this. He switches on the coffeemaker before he heads for the shower, ready to put this awkward mistake behind him and get some rest before he'll have to see Stevie this evening.

-------------------------

Stevie had finally fallen asleep an hour ago, maybe two, when her mother came knocking on the door. "Teedee, phone for you."

"Let Karen handle it," Stevie said, not even interested to know who was on the other end.

"Karen's not here yet."

What, she's slacking now that they're at home? No wonder the dogs are going crazy- no one's let them out yet. "Then take a message."

"You really need to be the one to talk to them," her mother insisted, so she got out of bed, making sure Rebecca was carefully covered up, and opened the door just far enough for her to take the phone while the dogs went flying down the hallway.