A local woman missing- Mary Kubica

MEREDITH
11 YEARS BEFORE
May
The next morning I’m sore. My whole body aches. I wake to Josh’s
lips teasing mine. My eyes open and there he is, suspended above
me. “You were supposed to wake me up when you got home,” he
razzes me. “We had a date.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. My saliva is thick, my mouth like cotton. It’s hard
to swallow.
“Don’t tell me you forgot.”
“I’ll make it up to you.”
I have trouble getting out of bed. It takes time. The room spins. I
have a headache, one that creeps up the back of my neck.
Josh, watching me, laughs. “Looks like you and Bea had fun after
we left.”
My cheeks flame. Josh doesn’t know the half of it. All he knows is
that Bea and I stayed at the bar and had another drink after he and
Kate left. He thinks I’m hungover.
“What time did you get home? I tried staying up for a while,” he
says, and I tell him that I don’t know, that we lost track of time.
“Bea didn’t want to leave,” I say.
What I wouldn’t give to go back to last night, to go home with Josh
instead of staying with Bea.
I push myself from bed. I think that when Josh looks at me, I must
look different, changed. Last night, after I let myself in, I showered in
our first-floor bathroom. I couldn’t risk waking him or the kids. I went
to bed with my hair still wet. That was only four or five hours ago. If
he looks closely enough, he’ll see it’s still wet.
“You want coffee?” Josh asks, standing at the mirror, fixing his tie.
I say yes, though I’m not sure I can hold anything down. “Just give
me a minute. I’ll brew a fresh pot.”