Origins #13

8 Apr

Morning had arrived. My mouth was dry. My head was sore. My body was tired. The light pushing it’s way in through my window was unwelcome.

brightlightI hoped that the memories of spending the night with my boss’s daughter, Rene Everlong, were the fictitious remnants of a dream.

I rolled back from my right side onto my back and reluctantly looked to my left. There she was. Laid out in my bed, her eyes lightly closed, the hint of a smile gracing her face. Rene looked like a happy little angel, secretly full of mischief.

What have I done?

It wasn’t a dream. I had spent the night with my boss’s daughter.

Fuck.

It’s one of those cardinal rules of life! Everyone knows, you don’t hook up with your boss’s daughter!

oh-god-what-have-i-doneIt’s not like I didn’t like Rene. Of course I did. I’d been interested in her for a long time and had very much wanted to get together with her, but not like this. Not as part of some alcohol fueled night of drama after drama after drama. I wasn’t unhappy that we’d gotten together, but it was just a rough scenario to wake up to.

What’s in a kiss?

I clambered up and sat with my legs off my side of the bed, back to Rene, elbows of knees and head in my hands. incredulousI took a deep breath and let it slowly escape my lungs as I considered the situation I’d woken up to. My internal monologue was interrupted by a gentle, soft touch at the bottom of the back of my neck.

I hadn’t yet made sense of what just happened. I turned to see what was going on, only to catch a glimpse of Rene as she darted off to the bathroom. I realised that delicate sensation I’d felt had been Rene kissing me. A stolen, sneak attack of affection. Just her style.

That simple act undid a lot of the anguish I’d been dealing with. I remember quite clearly that I broke out into a broad, goofy smile because I knew that meant Rene was happy about what happened, and that in itself took a lot of weight off my shoulders. There was something really sweet in that kiss. It’s difficult for me to describe, but in the face of all the chaos of what came before and after it, I still remember that moment very fondly.

How much does a hangover weigh?

As much as I enjoyed that, my hangover was growing exponentially with each passing second. I stumbled my way to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water to help wash down the handful of Panadols I’d grab from the bathroom after waiting patiently for Rene. I remember offering some Panadols to Rene, but being seven years my junior, she laughed at the idea of needing something to help her recover and accused me of being a senior citizen for needing them myself.

too oldShe also chuckled at me for telling her I felt like I needed another shower. Regardless, in attempted to wash the previous night away in an attempt to return to feeling something like a human being.

Y’know, It’s amazing the difference brushing your teeth can make in bringing you back from the dregs of a night of over consumption. I suspect I lingered in the bathroom longer than necessary as I struggled to get my head around the circumstances I found myself in.

“Promise you won’t tell anyone”

Rene was dressed and sitting on the bed. I sat down and asked her how she was holding up. She explained that she was alright and happy about what happened but asked me to promise I wouldn’t tell anyone about it. I thought having to promise not to tell anyone was a bit much, but I wasn’t in any rush for anyone to know about what had happened myself, so I agreed.

Coffee?

As much as Rene had smirked at me about my slow recovery rate, she had suddenly become very keen to get a coffee into her system, ASAP. coffee-ivThe problem was, I had none. No coffee, no tea, basically none of the standard hot morning drinks were on offer at my place. Rene’s solution was for us to go out somewhere to get one.

Unfortunately, my car wasn’t allowed on the road and we’d walked/trollied our way back to my place from the pub and leaving Rene’s car there, so our only remaining option was two feet and a heartbeat. Sure, we were right not to drive the night before, but facing that lengthy, hangover ridden walk back, I began ruing our decision to obey that one law while continuing to go on to break so many other of society’s unwritten rules.

I suggested we walk down to one of the coffee shops near my place, but Rene had her heart set on a specific coffee from a specific place. Rene also pointed out that we’d have to get to her car eventually anyway, at which point I suggested I suggested we get a cab to her car. Rene scoffed, telling me the walk was so short, it wouldn’t be worth the effort of calling a taxi.

Walk on

And with that, we began our journey through the blaring sunlight of a humid, not-quite-ready-to-rain, Saturday morning in semi-urban/semi-suburban Perth. Rene voiced her concerns that we should walk via the back streets rather than the main road in case someone were to see us. It’s a relatively easy walk by the main road because it’s a nice level road with good footpaths. The back streets on the other hand, are more arduous. The back way involves suburban-style streets. If there are footpaths, they’re covered with leaves and honkey nuts and assorted other random shit that ends up between the cracks of the broken cement and the worn bitumen.

I don’t remember much about that walk other than just pushing through the hangover and tiredness and not really feeling very talkative. I don’t think much was said over the course of the trek. Perhaps trudge is more apt? It felt like it lasted two hours but it was probably only about 40 minutes.

Rene was wary that we’d be seen by someone from Everlong because many of us lived around the area, so as we neared the Chesterfield pub, we had to choose between walking an extra block past it and doubling back to minimise time spent on the main road, or walking three quarters of a block up the main street.

I was struggling and doubted the likelihood of anyone from work seeing us. I figured, even if they did, there was much to explain. We were just walking down the street, so who cares?

I didn’t give Rene much choice in the matter. She followed as I started walking down the main street.

As we walked down that main street, we passed all sorts of interesting ethnic places. Restaurants, cafes, whatever, they all seemed to be exotic places down that particular block. It just happened that the few people we passed were all speaking in languages other than English.

For whatever reason, this caused me to remark that sometimes I wonder if I’m even still in Australia when I walk through this patch of road. Rene stopped and with wide eyes said “You really just said that”, as if she was astonished that I could say something so offensive. Rene’s part Asian, so maybe she thought I was being racist, I don’t know. Then again, why would a racist guy hook up with an Asian girl? That’s just one more question I don’t have the answer to. All I meant was that it’s cool to have so many different businesses and people from so many places all available in such a short walk from my place.

Did he see us?

Sometimes life, or the universe, or whichever cosmic comedian is in charge of such things, spots an opportunity they just can’t resist. Rene and I covering that short bit of ground down the main road after avoiding it the rest of the way must have been one such opportunity, and thus, about 100 metres away from Rene’s car, I spot a very familiar and distinct vehicle heading our way.

Trundling towards us at barely a smidge over walking pace is the bright red Fiat of none other than Mike Monarch, a manager at Everlong. Mike had been my direct manager for my first few years at Everlong and had known the Everlong family for about 7 years at that point, so I knew there was no way in hell he wouldn’t recognise Rene and me.

Dammit.

My standard approach to an awkward situation, or any difficult situation really, is to face it head on. That’s why I thought to myself, “Mike’s going to see us? Fine. I’ll bloody wave at him and acknowledge it, so at least we don’t look like we’re hiding anything.”
I wasn’t quite ready for what happened next, though.

Having recognised it was Mike, I began to raise my hand to wave. I was looking directly at Mike and Mike was looking directly at me as he rolled towards us from maybe 50 metres away. I swear I saw his eyes widen when he saw me, at which point I assumed he recognised me… but then turned his whole head to the left in what I can best describe as an “NOPE! I’M NOT SEEING THIS” manoeuvre.

nopeaway

I now refer to this move as the “Nopeaway”

See that gif? It was exactly like that, except he didn’t look back.

And off trundled Mike Monarch in his little red Fiat, leaving me with standing still, frozen mid-stride with an unwaved arm extended as if I was waiting for a high five that was never going to come.

It went exactly like this.

It went exactly like this.

So that was some great timing and an awesome reaction which sure helped to make things a whole heap more bloody confusing.

Rene asked me why I’d stopped. I explain it was because I just saw Mike. She asked me, “Did he see us?”, and I told her I was certain that he’d recognised us. When I told her how he’d reacted, the colour drained out of her face.

We’ve gotta get our story straight!

“Oh my God. We have to figure out what we’re going to tell people. We’ve gotta get our story straight!”, Rene said in a rush of words so fast I could barely take them in.
“Let’s figure it out while you get your coffee”, I said as I let the magnificence of the situation soak into the dense cluster of mud that was thumping mercilessly between my ears.

We jumped into Rene’s fancy pants little black BMW and headed off towards the home of her favourite and walk-all-the-way-back-to-her-car-worthy coffee vendor. We discussed our story on the way.

“OK, so let’s tell everyone that I fell asleep on your couch while we were watching a movie. Laura will believe that. I do it all the time.” Rene told me.
“I’ll say whatever you want me to”, I confirmed.
“OK. OK. Yep. That’s it. No one will know anything. That’s fine. Yep. We’ll just tell everyone that.” Rene stammered with more than a hint of anxiety.

At some point along the trip, Rene did something a bit weird as far as driving goes. I don’t remember exactly what. Maybe she hit a curb, or ran a gear too long, or changed lanes without indicating. I know it wasn’t a huge deal sort of thing but I asked her something like, “Do you always drive like this, or is it just because you’re hungover?” I was genuinely curious but the look she gave me suggested she took that question as an insult. Rene just said something to the effect of knowing she’s not the best driver and that was the end of it.

At long last, the Coffee shop

When Rene told me she wanted to get her favourite coffee from her favourite place, I assumed she meant some fancy coffee shop where they use beans from a place I’ve never heard of and brew it for an hour in front of you while you wait.

coffeeI was wrong.

See, I thought we’d sit in a nice cozy little coffee shop and talk about what had happened and how to deal with the fallout in the future. Maybe we’d figure out this date I’d committed to asking her out on and maybe we’d have a chance to just chill out and enjoy each other’s company, minus the influence of alcohol.

It turns out, however, Rene’s favourite coffee was to be acquired from a drive through stall in the middle of an industrial area.

There goes that idea.

Homeward bound

Once Rene had been handed her takeaway coffee through the open window of her very spiffy, very recent BMW, we began the drive back to my place to drop me off.

I seem to recall that we were a little less anxious on the way back but I was a bit lost because it seemed like we weren’t going to talk about things much at all, and I’d have to face the music at work on Monday with very little more to say other than “She fell asleep on the couch while we were watching a movie.”

It was a strange situation.

We eventually arrived out the front of my apartment. Rene pulled to a stop, we said some mildly awkward goodbyes and, not knowing what else to do, I leaned over and kissed her.

And that was that. I was left to recover from my hangover alone, and try to figure out exactly what I’d gotten myself into and how best to deal with it.

Next time

So that concludes the night my boss’s daughter stayed over, but trust me, the drama is only just getting started. Make sure to come back and read more about how my life slowly exploded into a flaming ball of chaos, confusion and hurt feelings.

Crazy bitch tip: Sometimes covering your own arse isn’t the only important thing.

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2 Responses to “Origins #13”

Trackbacks/Pingbacks

  1. Origins #14 | how not to be a crazy bitch - 2015.04.23

    […] I was in recovery mode after spending the night with my boss’s daughter. […]

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  2. Origins #17 | how not to be a crazy bitch - 2015.06.30

    […] you recall, Rene made me promise not to tell anyone what we’d gotten up to. I had kept my promise. That meant that all of this was being done without anyone else knowing what […]

    Like

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