Rhode Island
Senior Year
Emotional hangovers suck every bit as hard as alcohol hangovers, if not worse. I found that out firsthand when I woke up the next morning feeling like a steamroller had had its way with me. My eyes burned, and without even looking in the mirror, I knew there must have been bags the size of eggs beneath them. My whole body felt heavy and useless, and I had no intention of leaving my cocoon of sheets, let alone my room.
A light knock sounded at my door. “Kelsey?” Miranda called softly.
Great. Unfortunately, sheets weren’t a very effective barrier against nosy little sisters.
My door swung open and Miranda stepped inside in all her bed-headed glory. Only my sister could manage to wake up looking like she’d gone to battle with her pajamas and lost. Though I probably could’ve given her a run for her money on that particular morning.
“I thought you were sleeping at Ryan’s house,” she said suspiciously.
I rolled over to face the wall. “I didn’t.”
“Did something happen?”
“A lot happened. I don’t want to talk about it.”
There was a long stretch of silence, so quiet that I wondered if she’d left the room. But when I turned over again, there she stood, blinking her big eyes at me. “Did you and Ryan break up?”
“Yes.”
She shifted and picked at her cuticle. “Did he figure out that you still love David?”
I shot up in bed. “What?”
Miranda rolled her eyes. “Don’t be dumb. If you and Ryan broke up, it’s either because he figured out you still love David, or you finally did.”
I gaped at her, speechless. A fresh batch of tears seared my eyes. Had I been the only one too stupid to figure it out?
My head slammed against my pillow and a new round of sobs took control. I couldn’t have cried any harder, or any uglier. And my sister couldn’t have been any sweeter. Just as she had the last time I’d made a mess of everything, she climbed onto my bed and stroked my hair until I didn’t have any tears left to cry.
I spent Saturday in sad shape. I wouldn’t leave my room, and I wouldn’t talk to anyone but Candy. She told me Ryan had slept in his room instead of down in the basement with the rest of them, but he’d at least joined them for breakfast. I knew she’d left out any details that would break my heart all over again, and I loved her for it. When I asked about Violet, a long pause followed.
“She’ll get over it,” Candy finally said.
“It’s not like I can help that Steve dropped a bomb on me in the middle of prom. She’s acting like I purposely spoiled her fun.”
“You know Vi. She can’t stand any drama that’s not her own. And it burns her buns that David has such a soft spot for you.”
“Well, she has him. I don’t.”
“That would change in a millisecond if you wanted it to.”
I frowned into the phone. “Not anymore, Can. I blew it. Majorly.”
“You’re majorly a moron if you believe that.”
It was the first time I cracked a smile all day.
When I woke up the next morning to the sound of rain thrumming against the house, I thought it would make me even more of a zombie. Rain always sapped my energy and made me cranky. At least it had, until it became the thing I associated with the best kiss of my life.
The more I thought about it, the more restless my limbs became. I itched to do something productive. I knew there was nothing that could counteract the damage I’d already done, but maybe I could find something that would at least be a step in the right direction.
I threw the covers off me and went into the study. A few minutes later I emerged with a freshly printed chocolate chip cookie recipe. I stuffed it in my purse, and after brushing my teeth and hair, hopped in my car and returned a little while later with all the ingredients. My mother looked completely baffled when I came into the kitchen and plopped my bags on the counter.
“Kelsey? What are you doing?”
“Making cookies,” I replied, grabbing a baking sheet from the cabinet.
“Are you okay? You haven’t made cookies in ages.”
“I’m fine. I promised Mr. Kerrigan I’d make him some and I never did. Better late than never, right?” My mother nodded and visibly relaxed. I raised an eyebrow at her. “Did you think I was going to binge on them or something?”
“No! But you’ve had a rough weekend. I had to ask. Do you want any help?”
I told her I didn’t, and she left me alone in the kitchen after a quick kiss on my forehead. For hours I turned out batch after batch of delectable-smelling cookies. I’d forgotten how much I loved the whole therapeutic process of mixing and measuring and sampling. It made me wonder how many other things I’d forgotten about myself since I moved to Newport. Enough to hurt David, and that was plenty.
With the last batch cooling and the mess cleaned, I hopped in the shower. I wanted nothing more than to throw the cookies into containers and drive over to the Kerrigans’ house, but my mother insisted on feeding me first.
Finally, clean and fed and feeling human for the first time in forty-eight hours, I started down the familiar road to the heart of Newport.