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“What’s wrong? Were you sick?” she asks, touching my arm. She frowns and pulls her hand back. “Your coat is wet.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you puke on your coat?” she asks, her face disgusted.
I think of the guy leaning over and throwing up river water.
“Yeah,” I mumble.
“Gross. I think you’re done for the night.”
“Me too,” I say eagerly. I nod but it’s more of a convulsion and I practically run for the car.
Cara says a hasty goodbye to her friends who laugh in understanding. Once inside, she cranks the heat and eyes me, watching me shake.
“You sure you’re okay?”
“I just want to go to sleep.”
“That’s a first,” she says, but leaves it at that.
Over the years Cara has learned that I don’t like to talk about half the stuff that goes on when I’m asleep. I’ve seen things and been places that I don’t like to revisit, waking or otherwise.
“What’s that smell?” she asks suddenly.
“My di
“No, you smell like a swimming pool.” She scrunches up her nose and glances sideways at me. “Like chlorine.”
This night is getting weirder by the second. I vow to never drink again.
About the Author
I was born in Eugene, Oregon and studied English Literature at the University of Oregon (Go Ducks!) I’m married to my best friend and an Airman in the United States Air Force, I’m the mother of the greatest little boy on the planet and a rescue dog with more soul than most humans, and I’ll read books in just about any genre as long as the story is good. I started writing when I was a kid and finally decided to self-publish when I read one too many books centered around disturbingly Alpha males and the sniveling women who inexplicably love them. There are strong women and gentle men out there, and a beautiful love story can be woven between them. I want to tell those stories.
Visit my website for more information on upcoming releases, Tracey Ward