A Selfish Moment

2 - Everett - 9:00 AM

A creak from my bedframe jerks me awake, reminding me, as it has done every morning for the past few months, that I need to get a new bed. I open my eyes just enough to see Jubilee tip-toeing around my room, probably looking for her clothes. I hold back a chuckle and keep my body completely still as I watch her sneak out of my bedroom, covering her naked body with a small pillow. Once she is out of my sight, I smile, stretch, and sigh deeply. I have not been this thrilled about a girl in a very long time.

It'll be interesting to hear what was going through Jubilee's mind last night when she took off her clothes and climbed into my bed. She told me she was going to "freshen up", but after ten minutes I went to check on her and found her lying in my bed, naked, under a thin blanket, with a trail of her clothes from the bathroom leading to my bedroom. I threw a comforter over her and laid myself on top of it on the other side of the bed. There was no way she was waking up without me knowing.

Jubilee is...simply amazing. "Let's put all our cards out," she said last night after two hours and several drinks at the bar. "I like you, a lot. And you can ask Sophie, I don't like any guy I meet in a bar, ever. They are conceited, only after sex, and usually extreme liberals." I almost spit out my beer on that last claim. "Your turn," she commanded before taking another sip from her glass, staring me down until I answered.

"Okay," I slurred. "I never stay out late and drink this much. I run every morning at six. You can ask Isaac...every morning. And it's been a long time since I've met a girl who was worth breaking the routine. But you...I want to stay with you as long as you let me." Her coy smile bewitched me and her infectious laughter still echoes in my head.

My chest still aches from the way Jubilee talked about her daughter last night. I swear if I ever see Luke, her ex-husband, Aryana's father, I would beat the crap out of him. How could he leave Aryana's dimples and pigtails in the photo Jubilee showed me last night? Luke must be certifiably insane. I wanted Jubilee to stop talking about him; I wanted to tell her that he wasn't worth her saying his name, but I held back. Her eyes were locked on mine as she gave me details of the breakup, of the way he left her and Aryana alone, never to be heard of again. Her eyes became wet when she spoke about taking care of Aryana alone those first few months. When Jubilee went to the ladies' room, I opened the browser on my phone and searched for Luke Sanchez in Los Angeles. I didn't know exactly what I was going to do if Google had returned a match, but it didn't, so I put my phone back in my pocket before Jubilee came back. One thing is crystal clear to me - Luke is certainly worthy of an ass-kicking.

My mouth went dry when I told Jubilee about Keri. We were being so honest about everything that it only seemed right to tell her about the only serious relationship I had ever had. The amazing thing is, after telling Jubilee about how Keri cheated on me for four of the eight years we were together, since our freshman year at Syracuse University, it felt as if it had never happened, as if it was a dream or a movie, completely unimportant. I couldn't even remember what the bitch looked like.

Every other woman in the bar last night seemed ordinary, typical, and shallow compared to Jubilee, with their tiny outfits and flirty attitudes. Her smile made her eyes squint, and she looked almost exactly like Aryana in the photo, dimples and all. And with those large, deep, penetrating eyes, it was as if she could read my mind. Once she started laughing, I was hooked. That laugh made everyone in the room disappear. I continually got lost in Jubilee's eyes and watched her juicy lips move in slow motion when she spoke. It took every muscle in my body to keep from kissing her at the bar. I can't believe I held out for as long as I did, but when I finally kissed her in the staircase...Man it was so worth it.

I stretch one more time before springing out of bed. I quietly make my way to my living room to find Jubilee wearing nothing but her black rain coat. I watch her silently for a few seconds as she walks barefoot around my apartment, rubbing her head periodically and grunting with each angular movement. When I greet her, she jerks backward against the console and knocks over all my loose change. Her face is bright red and her hair is a lovely, disheveled mess. We both stand there, frozen, until the last penny stops spinning. She crosses one bare, slender leg in front of the other and pulls down on the edge of her rain coat just below her torso. If she was trying to keep me from looking there, she failed miserably. I wonder how I slept above the covers at all last night.

I tell her not to worry about the mess and she turns away. When I offer her some coffee she nods without saying a word. She'll probably feel more at ease once she gets dressed.

My headache starts hammering the instant I walk into the kitchen to make two cups of coffee from my single-cup coffee maker. My alcohol tolerance is pretty good, always has been on the rare occasion I do go out and drink, but last night was unprecedented. I stopped counting after our third shot around midnight, not to mention the dozen or so beers we both shared before then. I hope Jubilee isn't too hung over.

I take inventory of my fridge to see what I could possibly offer Jubilee to eat. From the pungent bile smell in the bathroom I suspect she threw up last night before stripping naked, so she must be starving. When I stroll out to the living room with two coffees, light and sweet, I find Jubilee crouched down to my area rug, looking under the armchair. She looks almost fully dressed, with her shoes in her hand, so I ask her what she's looking for. When I tell her about how she cut up her turtleneck last night she seems annoyed.

"What? Why would I want to cut up my own shirt?" she asks with her eyebrows furrowed.

"It was symbolic, your idea, don't you remember?" I say nervously, doubting my recollection for a second. "We-"

"No. I'm a forgetful drunk. I black out. I don't remember much of anything that happened last night."

For some reason, I apologize. Jubilee glares at me with distrust, so I explain how she decided to cut up her shirt with my scissors to make a statement on female sexuality. I narrow my eyes at her and ask as politely as possible, without being offensive, "What is the last thing you remember?"

Jubilee sits down on my armchair and closes her eyes tightly. "We danced, slowly," she says softly. Her eyes can't seem to focus on anything. "We kissed?" she asks and I lean back onto the couch. She shrugs her shoulders aloofly and my gut wrenches.

"Wow," I whisper. "That's sucks. You don't remember anything."

"I'm sorry. I never drink. Last night was...a mistake. I'm just going to leave and save us a lot of embarrassment, okay?" she says while putting on her shoes.

"No. It's not okay. Last night was not a mistake." My tone is sharp and I try hard not to get upset, giving her the benefit of the doubt. She can't possibly have forgotten everything about last night. "So you were drunk, so what?" Quickly, I repeat a few highlights from our conversations and ask her if she remembers any of them.

She stands slowly and exhales. Her eyes are staring squarely towards the ground, avoiding me. I press my lips into a tight frown as I watch her prepare to leave.

Then she calls me Isaac. She remembers nothing. The bubbly memory that was last night pops, and all I want is for her to get the fuck out.