Unfortunately, today is starting just like every other day this week. The sun is refusing to make an appearance and an unrelenting rain is falling from the sky.

When I attempt to leave for work, Eric’s Civic won’t crank. I try to turn the engine over multiple times, but all I get is a check engine light and low clicking sound. Frustrated, I get out of the car to see if something is stuck under the hood, but then it hits me.

There’s no gas in it.

I haven’t put any gas in it for the entire week.

Sighing, I decide to deal with that after work, and take out my umbrella. I head straight for the bus stop and immediately regret that decision.

My umbrella might as well be made of paper, because I’m getting soaked with every step. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I feel tears welling in my eyes. I can’t deal today.  Just can’t deal.

I stand under the bus shelter and pull out my phone to call the gallery.

“Hamilton Array Gallery, this is Michelle speaking, how may I help you today?”

“Hi, Michelle, this is Mia.”

“Hey, Mia!” Her tone is upbeat as usual. “No worries about being late, if that’s why you’re calling. This weather is awful.”

“I’m...” I stall as the bus pulls in front of me.

The driver opens the door, asking if I’m getting on, but I shake my head no and he pulls away.

“Are you crying, Mia?” Michelle asks, sounding concerned.

“No.” I lie. “But I was calling to let you know that I won’t be coming in today. I can’t, and I’m very sorry.”

There’s a brief silence, and the sniffles I’m holding back start coming out anyway.

“Awww. Whatever it is, it’s okay, Mia.” She assures me. “Half of our showing clients for today have canceled, and I’m sure the rest will call to cancel by lunch. Don’t worry about today, just enjoy your weekend and I’ll see you Monday, okay?”

“Okay.” I tell her thank you once more before ending the call.

I make the trek all the way back to the condo, not even bothering to put up my umbrella, and when I get to the door, I realize I’ve locked the keys in Eric’s car. And not only have I locked the keys in his car, the staff downstairs have taken an “early day” and the second shift won’t be in until nine tonight.

Eric warned me that his shop would be in “beast mode” today, so unless it’s an emergency, he doesn’t want me bothering him. I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t consider this an emergency at all, so I lean against the door and sigh.

The only option left is for me to call Dean, but I refuse. I can wait this out.

I get back onto the elevator and leave the building, walking down a few blocks and straight into a bar.

I know exactly how I’m going to fix this waste of a day...

I take a seat at the edge of the bar and take out my ID before the bartender can ask. I order three beers, two shots of vodka, and a Long Island Iced Tea. And when I’m finished, I order even more.

I don’t care that my head is spinning with every sip I take, or that I can’t seem to keep tears from falling down my face. I just need to keep drinking so I can forget. So I can remember to forget.

As I’m downing a fresh amaretto sour, a memory of when Dean brought me flowers, for no reason, begins to play in my mind. I try my best to stop it, but each attempt at resistance, only makes the picture clearer.

“Are you going to stare at the flowers or are you going to take them?” Dean smiles. “I got them for you.”

I step outside my front door and take a bouquet of roses from his hands. “Thank you. What’s the occasion?”

“Guess.”

“Um...Are they making, ‘Congratulations, you lost your virginity to me’ flowers now?”

He laughs and pulls me into his arms. “No. My apologies for ever asking you to guess. They’re just because.”

“Just because what?”

“Just because I really like you.” He kisses my lips. “I really don’t want this to end.”

I smile. “You just want to have more sex.”

“That, too.” He laughs. “But I’m serious. We’re going to have to find a way to make this work in college.”

“We will,” I say stepping back. “So, you just came by to drop these off, for no reason?”

“Yes.” There’s a sexy gleam in his eyes. “That, and well...Your mom is still out of town, and did you not just send me a text that said, ‘Can you please come over? I would really like to fuck my boyfriend today?’”

I blush and open the door, and he takes me up to my room.

“Hey, Miss!” The bartender’s loud voice lulls me back to reality. “Miss, I’m cutting you off now. You’re done.”

I see that he’s sliding my credit card back to me and still refusing to honor my request for an extra shot of bourbon in my tea.

“You got someone I can call for you?”

“What?” I can barely make him out now. There’s two of him and my head in spinning even faster. “What did you say?”

He groans and I see him get close and become one person again, and then he takes my phone. He taps the screen a few times.

“I’m going to call out the last people you contacted. Let me know who I need to call to get you out of my bar.” He slides me a bottle of water. “Michelle—Hamilton Array Gallery?”

“No! Please, no.”

“Okay...” He unscrews the cap of my bottle, since I can’t seem to get it open myself. “Mom?”

“No, not her either.”

“Eric—Big Brother?”

“Yes.” I slur, sipping the water. “Yes, him.”

He dials the number and holds the phone up to his ear. “May I speak to Eric, please?” There’s a pause. “Eric, I’m the owner of the Beach Bar down on Fifth, and I believe this is your sister in front of me. I need someone to come pick her up. We no longer do calls for cabs here.”

I can hear Eric saying, “Jesus Christ, Mia” over the bar’s music and I know he’ll have a shit ton more to say when I get home, so I wave my hands to get the bartender’s attention.

“It’s just down the street. I stay right across...” I fall forward against the bar and grab a chair before I hit the ground. “Like I was saying...”

The guy next to me helps me back into my chair and the bartender rolls his eyes as he gives me my phone back.

“He’ll be here in ten minutes,” he says. “Drink the rest of that water, and the next time you’re thinking about coming in here to get drunk—Don’t.”

I nod and sip the rest, feeling as if an eternity passes between each and every swig.

When I’m almost finished with the bottle, I feel a tapping on my shoulder and slowly turn around.

“I’m so, so sorry, Eric. I know I—” I stop talking when I see Dean.

He’s dressed in his uniform and he actually looks somewhat concerned.

“Come on,” he says, slipping an arm around me and pulling me up.

“I’ll wait for Eric to come,” I say, hating that my body is reacting to his touch. “I’m not interested in being arrested right now.”

“Who the fuck do you think Eric called?” He rolls his eyes. “And I’m not going to arrest you. I’m giving you a ride home.”

“Down the street?”

“Unfortunately.” He walks me out of the bar and opens the door to his squad car.

He doesn’t wait for me to say anything or protest; he simply picks me up and places me into the seat. He secures my seatbelt and shuts me inside.

Once he slips into the car and pulls into traffic, we don’t say anything. The only sound is the dispatcher on his police radio and the sound of the heavy rain drops falling against his windshield.

At a red light, he looks over at me. “Did you go to work today?”

I don’t answer.

“Mia...” He sighs, turning down his radio. “I’m trying to be cordial with you. I think that’s the best the two of us can possibly do for the rest of this situation.”

I don’t say anything. Not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.

My head is still being pulled in a million directions, and the motion of the car is making me feel sick.