Birth Day
“What the fuck?”Mac’s voice echoes like a sonic boom through my head.
I crack open one eye. It’s morning, I think. I groan; the light feels like it’s trying to crush my skull with its bare hands.
“What the fuck, what?” I croak. My throat is on fire. I guess two bottles of Johnny Walker will do that to you.
“What the fuck was up with Taye Diggs and Fat Joe dropping you at our doorstep at five a.m. this morning?”
I shrug. I’m lying face down on the couch, and I think that’s how I’m going to stay. Forever. I feel like death.
“You smell like a brewery, you have no shirt on, and what are these?” He snaps my G-string.
I jump. “Hey! That hurts!”
“So, let me reiterate. What. The. Fuck?”
I shift my leg. I’m wearing pants. How does he know what’s underneath them? I glance down to find my jeans literally tearing at the seams. I’m still wearing Jimmy’s specially made pants.
“Mac?” I hear Ashley’s voice. “I have to go.”
“Okay, babe,” he replies irritated, and I’m not sure if it’s directed at me or her. “Stay right there. I don’t want you seeing the mess of a man in front of me.”
Ashley giggles.
He walks around the couch, and I hear the front door open. They whisper about something, and then they’re kissing. Like loud, sopping wet kisses.
“Get a room!” I complain.
“Shut the fuck up over there,” Mac snaps. Then the door closes.
“Can you get me some OJ?” I beg, before he launches an FBI-sized interrogation.
I sit up, and I think my head weighs three times more than my body. I’m going to die.
Mac hands me the orange juice, and I take a sip. It does wonders for my throat, but not a damn thing for my stomach.I will not throw up.
Mac sits next to me on the couch and drops his head in his hands.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I ask as the world spins.
“Ashley.”
“What about her?”
“She might be leaving.”
“To go where?”
“California. She applied for a fellowship. She graduates in May.”
“And this upsets you?” I pry. Mac isn’t one to get attached. I don’t think in all the time I’ve known him he’s ever had a steady girlfriend. Ashley is the closest he’s come.
He huffs. “You know when I first met her, she was this mousy girl. She wore glasses and baggy clothes.” The girl he’s describing is definitely not the one who just left this apartment. “But she was cool, you know. I liked talking to her, even if it was just briefly.”
“And now you’re head over heels in love with her, and it’s killing you that you might not be able to keep her.” I feel compelled to communicate to Mac exactly what he’s feeling.
He lifts his head and looks at me. His elbows still resting on his knees. “How the hell did you do it, man? How did you just walk away?”