hair. I’d always wondered what that would feel like, to have someone run their fingers across your scalp when you were sick. My dad took care of me when I’d been ill in the past, but he’s not much of a physically affectionate man. He’s an incredibly compassionate person for sure, but his kindness and care don’t take the form of physical touch, but words and acts of service instead. So Dad never ran his fingers through my hair. In fact, the only person to ever do that was Brian, and the memory of it spikes something in my gut.
The first time I thought I was actually in love with Brian was when I was sprawled across the tile floor, vomiting up a night’s worth of mistakes in the form of regurgitated alcohol. I thought I loved him because of the way he took care of me, the way he held my hair and rubbed my back. But he had been there all night, encouraging me to take another drink, to have just one more shot. In the back of his mind, I’m sure he hoped to get something out of it—out of me being dead to the world in my drunken stupor. But all he got was a vomit-covered sweatshirt and a girlfriend with an angry hangover the next day.
I open my eyes to stop the memory from replaying and look across the bathroom toward Ran and the two near-strangers cuddled up against us. He has absolutely nothing to gain, other than possibly getting infected with whatever Brittany has. While I always thought Brian was being selfless that night, staying up with me while I teetered on the brink of needing medical attention and the edge of unconsciousness, there was absolutely nothing selfless in his act at all. He was obligated to take care of me, to make sure I didn’t end up with alcohol poisoning or worse. He was my boyfriend. I’m sure that duty is written in some relationship handbook somewhere.
“I thought I’d fallen in love in a bathroom before,” I speak after several minutes of calm silence.
Ran’s tired eyes flick open. “What?”
“Back when I was in high school,” I begin, “Brian and I went to some frat party and I got totally wasted. I was up all night, curled around the toilet, and Brian was there. I thought what he showed me was compassion, because it was more than anyone else had ever given me before.”
Hurt pulls at Ran’s eyes and his muddled expression lessens. “Maggie…”
“I thought I loved him because of what he did for me. But he was obligated to. I was his girlfriend and he was pretty much the reason for the condition I was in.” I shake my head at the recollection. “That wasn’t love. With Brian. That was never love.”
Brittany shifts in Ran’s lap and mumbles something inaudible. Ran shushes her softly and she settles back in, her head pressed at the crook of his neck.
“I love you, Ran,” I whisper. I can feel the warmth of Valerie’s drool seeping through my sleeve, and instead of being disgusted, I find it unnaturally endearing.
“I love you too, Maggie.”
“And thank you,” I say, rolling my head to the side against the wall to look right at him. When our eyes meet, my chest tightens.
“For what?” He cocks his head slightly, unsure.
I slink an arm around Valerie and hug her close. “For replacing the memory of that night with this one.” I close my eyes and pull in a long breath through my nostrils, feeling like it’s the first time in the past ten years that I’ve truly been able to gather air. I swallow quietly and continue, “And for replacing my idea of what love really is.”
At some point we all fall asleep, but it’s that hesitant slumber your body won’t fully succumb to. Like when you nod off in the car and your head rolls against the headrest, and every time your neck catches it, you wake up. I’ve been doing that for the past half hour and Ran wakes with my last jolt. I must have startled loudly that time.
“Let’s get them in bed,” Ran whispers, gradually pushing off of the floor. He wraps a hand around Brittany’s waist and she slings her arms around his neck. I pull Valerie off of the ground, but she readily stands and walks with me groggily toward their shared room.
There’s a bed on either side and I’m grateful that Valerie seems to be an