Every Time it Hurts

In an effort to press herself flat against the wall, she ran her funny bone into the corner of an antique brass picture frame. The pain shot through her arm; an uncomfortable tingle bloomed in her hand. She huffed a silent profanity but maintained a smile to the onlookers who cast glances at her over their shoulder.

This was so far from her scene, if she could have it her way she’d be back at home – three twisted teas deep – sprawled out on her carpet floor. But Lydia had insisted, begged even, that she come with her tonight. She said she needed her, and maybe she did. Up until a pretty Korean boy bought her a drink, now Lydia didn’t need anyone or anything beyond his attention. 

And still, she found herself in this underground - above-ground - retro-vintage - hippy-dippy - house party - night club? It was someone's house, that’s for sure. But renovated to be a constant place of partying and tom foolery. Or maybe this was just a frat house, and this was just a frat party, and people were giving it too much credit.

She shook her hand out to throw the tingles off. “Not so funny, is it?” 

That's what her dad would always say. God, she missed her dad. He was probably shaking his head at her disapprovingly down from Heaven. She should be home studying! She has three different exams this week, goddamn midterms! Goddamn brass antique picture frames! And goddamn hitting funny bones!

Enough people had stopped worming their way past, for her to move off the wall and make her way deeper into the house. She didn’t really want to go deeper, but if she didn’t move from the wall now - she’d become one with the gaudy-ass wallpaper. And that was a fate worse than death, she decided.

“Excuse me,” she said- squeezing in behind a couple taking up nearly all of the hallway. “Excuse me-” her elbow met with the chick's back, and the girl recoiled away from her. Vulgarities were thrown at her from the couple, but still she pushed onward. The hallway didn’t seem to end. 

It was so hot. Of summer air and hot breath. 

Some dude's elbow hit her chest, karma maybe, and knocked the breath right out of her lungs. He whipped around, eyes wide and shoulders shuddering with a laugh, “Oh shit – my bad!”

After a heavy intake of breath, she hung her head low and tried squeezing past, but he was too close to simply walk around. He tried pressing against the wall to let her through – the same way she had moments earlier – his elbow met with the corner of a wall-mounted cherub statue with a heavy thud. The drink in his red solo cup splashed out as he went to cradle his arm. The splash hit her in the chest, turning her light gray tank into a dark, damp, charcoal.

“Ow- fuck-!”

His eyes darted between her chest and her face, “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” She sighed, examining the damage, “I was worried I didn’t smell enough like cheap booze - you’re actually doing me a favor.”

“What?” He asked, leaning forward.

House music blared loudly around them, its bass shaking the house. She cursed herself for forgetting where she was, embarrassment tightened in her chest.

“Nothing!” She said, leaning in to be heard – shouting in his ear. He jerked back with a charming smile, nose crinkling as he turned his face away, “Sorry –! I totally just – yelled in your ear.”

“Yeah – We’re even now - don’t worry about it!” He said, loudly.

She pursed her lips, “Actually? I think I owe you one more!”

He turned to face her fully, taking a moment to find where the cherub statue was mounted before leaning back against the wall, “Yeah?”

Never mind, she decided, she didn’t like this. Her eyes looked between his face, his elbow, and the cherub statue - this wasn’t why she came here. She wasn’t Lydia. And she decided that she really didn’t like any of this at all, “I’ll save it for when I see you on campus…Do you know where a bathroom is?”

His brows shot up, “You go here?” he asked.

“That’s kinda what was implied–” she couldn’t contain her smile, “Do you know where there’s a bathroom?” she asked again.

“I’ve never seen you around before–!”

“Bathroom!”

He pushed off the wall and leaned in, looking down the hall of drunken men and women. He stood on his tiptoes to see over the tops of their heads; she found that incredibly endearing. Again – she didn’t like this.

“I’ll just keep looking–” 

He clicked his tongue, “Hang on, hang on - don’t use the one down here.”

“Why?” 

“Because most of the people down here –? Yeah – they’re the line for the bathroom.” He laughs, “You might have better luck with the public ones – on campus–!”

She looked down the hall and noted how most of the people flooding the hall were pressed against one side of the wall mostly, standing around drinking more - smoking more - waiting. Her lips curled in disdain, because while initially she just wanted to dry off her shirt…now she had to pee.

“Come on-” he said, stepping even closer to her.

“What?” she asked.

He misunderstood that she couldn’t hear him, and leaned in so close she could smell the clash of beer and mint on his breath, “Come on. Campus isn’t that far of a walk from here, but it’s dangerous to go alone at this time of night.”

His eyes were a deep brown, nearly black. Like freshly ground coffee, though there wasn’t a hint of bitterness to them. His smile was wide and showed almost all of his teeth. They were bracketed - adult braces. And dimples in his cheeks.

“You’re a stranger - and I have a friend here.” She said, softly since he was close enough to undoubtedly hear her, “I’m worried she’d start to look for me the moment I leave – she’s with some dude we don’t even know! I gotta make sure she’s–”

His laugh was deep, “I’m gonna bring you right back – I mean I gotta come back! This is where I sleep.”

“This is your house?” I ask.

He shrugs, “Yeah.” 

There’s a moment where she doesn’t believe him, because all she’s ever heard about this place is that there’s constant ragers every other night. How can anyone sleep here? But then she looks at his smile again, and it seems to make sense. 

“Okay,” She looks behind her, “How far a walk is it?”

“Not far– again campus is literally like a five-to-seven-minute walk away.” He pulls away from her and she finds herself drunkenly stepping into the empty space he leaves behind.

With a firm shake of the head, she sobers herself enough to see his back as he begins working his way through the crowd towards the entryway. There’s a moment where she considers letting him think he’s leading her, but instead she slips away, disappearing into the crowd. Instead, she finds herself walking after him, following the path he makes in the sea of college students. 

He’s so polite, he excuses himself – loudly, again – and people make room for him. 

The closer they get to the front door, the sparser the crowds of partygoers seem to get, “I can smell night air–!” He says to her, over his shoulder, smiling again.

She hadn’t even realized how the house stunk of weed and sweat until they stepped out the front door and into the night. People still plagued the patio, and the front yard – but the stars were out, and the breeze carried their waft of stink away. Being out of the house made her realize she never wanted to go back in.

“I’m Koda by the way,” her guide says, “just so we’re not strangers anymore – I’m Koda.”

He stops and waits for her, but she pauses just a couple of steps behind him.

“Micky.”

His nose crinkles again when he smiles, “Like the mouse?”

“No, like Mickey Cohen.” She shrugs, “Everyone calls me Mick.”

He nods, “Mick– got it! Now we’re not strangers- to a point,” he laughs, “we’re acquaintances – it’s better than nothing.”

An odd moment of silence passes between them before Mick takes a few steps forward to meet Koda at his side. That was all he was waiting for to start walking again. Koda stuffs his hands into his jean pockets and tilts his head up towards the stars. Out in the night, away from the varied colored strobe lights, she could see his amber hair tied behind his head in a small little ponytail. It makes her chuckle, “What’s even the point of tying your hair back?”

His hand shoots up to pull at his hair behind his head, “What – you don’t like it? I thought all chicks loved long hair on dudes.”

“Is that long?”

“Yeah!” He pulled his hair ‘free’. The shift of it falling over his ears was minimal.

The rest of their walk down the sidewalk was silent, save for Koda’s humming. It was peaceful out here in the – somewhat open.  Mick circled her arms around herself and looked away into the darkness, as that feeling of uneasiness overtook her again. She wasn’t any good at this – the ‘recovering’ thing. When her dad died, something in her died with him – and it kept her from getting laid, which sucked. It also, more importantly, kept her from taking the next step with her now ex-boyfriend of almost two years. Which was probably what made talking to Koda so difficult. Or be around him. Or exist. 

Koda was frustratingly handsome, and charming, and smelled like booze - and mint - and she didn’t like that she wanted him after only having been single for two months. And fatherless for four.

“Hold up!” He shot his hand out in front of her, as she nearly stumbled into the street.

She grabbed his arm to keep herself from staggering, “Sorry- I’m suddenly just...I think the shitty booze just hit.”

Koda bumped the pedestrian crossing button with his elbow, only to recoil again, pulling his arm away from her to cradle his elbow, “Ow - not again!”

“Not so funny, is it?”

He looked at her, “What isn’t?”

She shot her hand out before she even realized it and pressed her palm to his bicep, “Your elbow – or your funny bone…you hit your funny bone?”

“Yeah, for like the umpteenth time tonight.”

“Not so funny, is it,” she tried again, “...funny bone?”

The lights changed – the street was safe to cross – but Koda just stood there, staring at her. Mick decided he was stupid. She was deciding a lot tonight. 

When it seemed to register with Koda, he let out an obnoxious laugh and began crossing the street, arm still in hand, “Very funny - God, I’m drunker than I thought.”

She trailed after him, the fabric of his shirt pinched between her fingers, “Yeah me too, I think…”

He dropped his arm to reach over and take her fingers. And then her hand.

“Don’t worry- I got you.” 

She let him hold her hand across the street, before that tingling sensation from earlier returned to her fingers and she had to pull away. He didn’t say anything, just kept walking in silence. The further they strayed from that house - the colder Mick realized she was, the more alone she realized she was. 

What was Lydia doing right now?

Probably dancing flush against her newfound friend.

“I’m gonna pee in a bush.” Mick says, “And I’m going to head back.”

Koda stopped and turned around with loud laughter, “No - no you are not–”

“Oh yes - yes I am.” she staggered off the sidewalk and into the greenery lining the outskirts of campus, “I don’t give a fuck about drying off… this is too far - I’m too far…I feel wrong.”

He hopped onto the grass and rushed to grab her before she could pop a squat, “Micky? Hey–”

She looked up at him, and frowned, “Who the fuck are you? Who even the fuck are you– Where are we going right now– why- why did I follow you away from the house - to who knows where!” she nearly fell to the ground, but he caught her. 

He squeezed her shoulders, “The bathroom is quite literally right there-” Koda says sternly, she missed his touch when he pulled away - pointing just behind him, “Why don’t you go piss – dry off your shirt – and I call you an uber home or something…”

“My friends at that party.”

“Micky, just come on.”

“My friend is at that party!” She staggered backwards, “And my dad's dead- and I don’t know what the fuck to do because now that he’s gone - I’m alone! I’m so fucking alone - and how the fuck am I supposed to just move on like it’s okay that my dad isn’t around anymore?” She threw her hands up, exasperated.

And he just stared at her, eyes wide and brows furrowed, “...Christ…the booze really did hit you late, huh?”

Micky sputtered, “...And I hurt - my funny bone.” she didn’t even realize she’d been crying

“Well, I hit mine twice.” He stood there before reaching out and taking Mick’s hand a second time, “...But that’ll heal. I mean – hitting your funny bone hurts like hell, but it’s not forever… Kind of like – you know…loss?” – Mick laughed and turned to look away from him – “No - hang on, let me explain. Ah…okay, so– I lost my mom when I was sixteen years old, right?” His smile faltered, “And at the time – for me – it was like I lost everything. My mom was all I had, man. And that shit – was hard! And I was so confused and angry at everything…”

Mick looked to Koda’s feet, “My mom’s also dead.” 

He snickered, “I’m surprised neither of us turned out to be Batman.”

She laughed and pushed at his chest weakly with her open hand, “Shut up…” she let her hand linger there, and didn’t speak again until she could feel his heartbeat in her palm, “how did you ever think to– move on? You know – when they mean that much, I just…” She trailed off, her vision going blurry with tears.

He took a moment, sniffed and shrugged, “I don’t think I ever did? I mean – I’m at peace now… and I still miss her like crazy – and y’know, some nights I still cry, but don’t tell anyone that.” His smile returned, “What I’m trying to say - or at least get to - is that it’s okay to hurt, but you shouldn’t live in that hurt. You hit your funny bone and the moment is bad, but it goes away - and you carry on.”

She bit her bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

“Am I making any sense? I’m drunk but I don’t know how drunk…”

But she laughed, and took her hands away to wipe at her face, “God– fuck – I just… I have to pee… and I want to go home.”

“Well –that can be arranged.” He said, raising his hand to wipe at the tears she didn’t know she was still shedding.

She didn’t really remember what happened after that. She remembers how fast her head was spinning when she woke up in the back of an uber, but she doesn’t remember how she got there – or how Lydia got there. She could hear her - but she couldn’t see her.

Then, Mick woke up at eleven o’clock in the morning on the carpeted floor of her living room, sprawled out and in pain. When she tried to push herself up - she bumped her elbow into the leg of the coffee table. The pain shot through her arm and into her hand. 

And she fell back onto the floor, and she cried.

It hurt.

When she checked her phone, she saw a text from an unknown number that read;

‘I ended up sleeping on the back patio’

Then it stopped.