They could have set the bed on fire.
Oliver woke in a sweat. Really, he hadn't a clue of the time or day for that matter. His right eye felt like shit, and he had to unwind Izzy's fingers from around his chest before he could stumble out of bed.
There were bits and pieces that came and went, still in his head like a whirlwind about yesterday, last night. All of it. Some of it. A piece of it. He squinted trying to sort, step by step.
1. it was going OK at work behind the circulation desk. he was circulating. nobody had said anything really to him about the eyeliner or anything else for that matter.
2. near the end of the last hour it had happened. somehow, he got dragged into the breakroom for a talk. it was sort of peculiar with Betty, head of circulation aka his supervisor. she was so serious. Oliver busted out laughing at her which was the wrong thing to do.
3. she'd said he was pretty. To pretty to work there. REMEMBER: Do not say this ever again. "So you wanna go out with me?" It was joke. nothing more.
4. she said he was prick and then more came. manhandling stuff or was that womanhandling in her case. she was in his face about everything he'd ever done wrong at circulation. he wasn't serious enough. who did he think he was? who?
5. her fingernails dug deep into his arms. Like needles going deep, almost blood. it was crazy. crazy..crazy shit.
6. Bex was just a little too late. he was shaking. Bex found someone to help. the tech librarian had to get Betty off of him.
Bex wanted him to go to city about what had just happened. He told her, no. But she took him, anyway. It was against his will. Plain and simple. Statements made. Paperwork was filed. The both of them. "Maybe you better not come in tomorrow." The personal director had told him. It was really upsetting. He was going to be fired, wasn't he?
Bex kept telling him that wasn't going to happen. It wasn't. She took him home and she was there. He looked across his room. She'd stood right there next to his bed. Told him it was all going to be all right, but she had to leave. She left. She was gone. She had class or something. He believed her then, but now he didn't think so. She probably went back to him. Oliver was pretty bummed out then.
He crept across the room and turned on the bathroom light. Saw his face in the mirror and cringed. The black eye was hideous. Really disgustingly bad. But Betty hadn't done that. Izzy had. She kind of lost it when he told her he might be losing his job. How could he? And she slugged him hard, knocking him to the floor. Those lefty Mulberrys. Ollie and Izzy Mulberry, he thought. Those misfits. They just can't be quiet right. They were both left handed.
Then came the weed. Then the Valium. Maybe it was the other way around. And then Izzy felt sorry for him. And then there she was. In bed with him. Trying to be the big sister she was suppose to be. Perhaps. Although, a little too close for comfort. God, she was his albatross. His cancer. His child.
He was pretty sure this was the beginning of the end, but there was one last cigarette in his sock drawer. Oliver decided he'd smoke it. Alone.