Through Her Eyes Read Online Free PDF Page A

wineeee.” The chairs start to tilt, or maybe it’s the walls. Rising to stand, I stagger forward, but land back in the seat instead.
    “I think another glass of water would do you some good.”
    “I’m no better than my mom,” I mumble. “She’s a drunk. Hateful bitch. Drunk. God, is she evil.” I laugh. My hands swing forward and almost spill my water.
    “Seriously. Sheee devil.” The bartender walks away.
    “Heeey. Wheeeere d’ya think yeeeeer goin’?”
    “I’m going to call you a cab, love.”

Twenty-eight days since I spoke to Parker
    I WAKE UP EARLY to acidity trying to fight its way up my throat. My body reminds me of how my first night of my adventure played out. Guinness, wine, darts, wine, a second attempt at Guinness, and another wine chaser. Room spinning. Home. How the hell did I get home? Not sure.
    All I remember is hugging the toilet.
    My stomach revolting.
    Knowing this is karma.
    Laying back in the bed, I cover my head with the blanket and curse my life. Never drinking again. My brain pounds as I try to decide how I’ll spend my day.
    Museums?
    Sightseeing?
    Hiding under the covers and pretending last night never happened?
    Bingo .
    That’s how I’ll spend the day. I reach across to the bedside table and dial zero.
    “Good Morning, Miss Bennett. How may I be of service today?”
    “Can I please be connected to room service?”
    “It would be my pleasure.” The phone rings twice.
    “Room service. How may I help you?” his soft British accent pounds on my hungover brain.
    “May I please have eggs, toast . . .” I think for a minute to decide what else would make me feel better. Grease. “Also bacon and orange juice. Oh, and can I also have two Ibuprofen?”
    “But of course, Miss. Bennett. Please give us thirty minutes.”
    “Thank you.” I hang up the phone and walk across the room, picking up the complimentary postcard the hotel has placed on the desk in my room. My hand can barely write from my exhaustion, but I push through the pain.
    Dear Park,
    This trip is off to a rocky start. I can barely get out of bed. I might have gone overboard my first night in London. I’m doing a piss poor job of finding myself. At least I saw a few things yesterday, or this stop would have been a complete waste. Tomorrow, I’m off to Tuscany. I wish you were here with me. Having tea at The English Tea Room doesn’t sound so great without you, nothing sounds that great with you not here. Without you by my side, without you next to me.
    I know you want me to experience life, but it’s just so hard alone. I wish you were here. I miss you.
    All my love,
    Ari
    I drop the pen, and head back to the bed. My body flops down with a loud thud. My eyes flutter shut, and I begin to fade back into my sanctuary waiting for my hangover cure to arrive. I can’t remember the last time I was this sick. Not since high school probably? It must have been the time my parents left me all alone on my sixteenth birthday. God I remember it so clearly. I’d broken into the liquor cabinet and started guzzling an 18-year-old scotch. At the time I’d no idea what the numbers meant. I’d picked it up because the bottle was prettier than the rest. After downing the burning liquid, I stumbled outside to look at the stars. As the night sky twinkled above me, a feeling of nausea wretched through me. Parker had found me there. He held me as my body shook with sobs and my stomach emptied itself. I remember how the grass cushioning me tickled my knees as I kneeled, letting go of everything I’d consumed in my misery. In Parker’s arms I felt safe and when he eventually went and got me a change of clothes . . . loved. After he cleaned me off, he brought me inside my empty house and sat with me while I slept, making sure I was okay. Protecting me from everyone, everything and most importantly protecting me from myself.

Twenty-nine days since I spoke to Parker
    I ’M ABOARD MY PLANE to Florence after a horrible attempt