Suddenly I hear something that sounds like ahey, but I can’t tell if I’m imagining it or not. I’ve never had hallucinations from alcohol before, and I really doubt we have a neighborhood ghost, so I tell myself I’ve imagined it. Until I hear something again, and this time it’s louder and as clear as day, a female voice whispering, “Up here!”
I glance around, searching for the voice, until finally my gaze lands on someone peering down at me from the guest room window upstairs. They are so far away and blurry at first, so I narrow my eyes at them for a few seconds as they come into focus. And it’s her, that girl again, that damn girl with the husky voice. My… No, I’m not saying it. It’s too weird. Has she been watching me this entire time? “What the hell do you want?”
“Are you okay?” she asks, frowning down at me with those full, plump lips of hers, concerned.
No, I’m not okay, I think.I’m drunk and I’m stuck outside.
It hits me then that actually this girl has just become my savior. Thisgirl is going to be the one to let me sleep with my head on a pillow rather than a beer can. “Open the door,” I tell her, then quickly push myself up from the lawn and head toward the front door. I feel as though I could throw up, but that’s stupid. I can handle the alcohol. At least I think I can, but I am desperate to get inside, and this girl certainly isn’t rushing to help me. I stand by the door for a few minutes, focusing on my breathing so that I don’t hurl, until finally I hear the lock turning. The door swings open and there she is. She’s pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, her hair piled into a heap on top of her head, her eyes tired. I can’t remember her name. Emma? Ellie? I know it, I do. It’s on the tip of my tongue. It’s…it’s Eden. That’s it.Eden.
“You took your damn time, huh?” Oh God, I really am going to throw up any second. I clamp my mouth shut and push my way into the house.
Eden wrinkles her nose at me with disgust, then locks the front door behind us again. “Are you drunk?” she asks, although I’m pretty sure she doesn’t even need to ask. Isn’t it obvious?
“No,” I answer, just to tease her. “Is it morning yet?”
“It’s 3:00 a.m.,” she states blankly, her eyebrows furrowed.
Huh. That’s still early. I laugh, but then I feel it again, that sickness rising in the pit of my stomach. I quickly turn for the stairs, fumbling for a grip as I try to climb them, but I fall several times and almost break my damn leg. “When did these get here? They weren’t here before.” I pat the stairs, and I know I’m talking shit, but it’s funny to me. Everything is funny right now.
Eden stares up at me from the bottom of the stairs, chewing her lip as though she doesn’t know what to do. “Do you want water or something?”
I need water, desperately, but I can’t. This girl doesn’t know me, andshe never will, so I’m going to stick with being the Tyler Bruce I am so used to being. “Get me another beer,” I joke over my shoulder, and then I force my way back up the remaining stairs. It’s such a relief to push open the door to my room, to see my bed still unmade from this morning, to see my bathroom.
I leave Eden behind, close my door, and then dive straight for the toilet, only barely reaching it in time before I promptly throw up.
•••
“Unbelievable,” Mom is mumbling under her breath. She’s been walking around my room for at least five minutes, furiously picking up clothes from my floor and emptying my trash. I think she’s doing it on purpose just to torture me, because it’s not even 9:00 a.m. yet. “Unbelievable,” she says again. She moves to my window and yanks open my blinds, allowing the morning sunlight to flood my room and set my eyes on fire.
I groan and bury my head further under my pillow. “Mom,please!” My head is pounding, I’m sweating buckets, and I still feel so damn queasy. I can’t deal with Mom right now. I need more sleep, more water. My throat is so dry, I think I might choke.
“Do you think I’m oblivious, Tyler?” Mom stands by my bed, glaring down at me with her arms folded across her chest. “You thought I wouldn’t know that you were drinking last night? Youstinkof alcohol. Look at you! You’re a mess.” She shakes her head in disgust at me. “Get up. You don’t get to spend the day in bed. Kids who are capable of drinking are also capable of mowing the back lawn.”
“Mom,” I try again, my voice pleading. My body is aching, and I think I would rather die than suffer this hangover. “Please just leave me alone.”
“You know,” Mom says quietly, her forehead creasing with concern as her shoulders relax, “therearebetter ways than this to deal with things, Tyler.” I know exactly what she’s talking about and I know where this conversation is heading, but right now, I just can’t deal with her attempts at promoting more healthy methods of dealing with the past. “You don’t have to be reckless. Bottling everything up isn’t good for you. Maybe you should talk—”
Right then, my phone rings and cuts Mom off. It vibrates wildly on my bedside table, and Mom raises an eyebrow as she snatches it before I do. “It’s Tiffani,” she tells me, then rolls her eyes at the inconvenient interruption and tosses me the phone. I expect her to leave at this point, but she doesn’t budge. She just stares at me, watching in disapproval. She’s never really liked Tiffani all that much, and I wonder if it’s because she knows me well enough to realize that I’m not even in love with the girl I’ve been with for three years. Mom’s not stupid. I bet she knows the relationship doesn’t mean anything.
I roll over so that my back is to her, then I press my phone to my ear. “What?” I mutter. Is Tiffani insane? Why the hell is she calling me at this time of day? Did she even get home last night?
“Wakey wakey, baby,” she says, her voice way too cheerful this early in the morning, and I almost throw up again in my mouth right there and then. Isn’t she hungover too? I can’t remember if she was even drunk last night. I can’t remember anything. “I’m picking you up in half an hour. I need to go shopping, and you’re coming with me. I’m thinking the promenade, and then we can go pick up your car too.”
“Are you kidding me?” I groan again and press my hand to my forehead. My skin is blazing with heat and my hair is damp. A cold shower would be amazing right now. “I’m dying, Tiff.”
“Well, that’s what you get for being an idiot,” she says with a bitterlaugh, then quickly adds, “See you in thirty!” before she hangs up on me. We are back to normal again.
Aggravated, I throw my phone onto the floor and grind my teeth together. If I didn’t have to suck up to her after our argument last night, then I for sure wouldnotbe going anywhere today.
“What now?” Mom asks. I wish she would stop heaving those sighs. It’s all she ever does, and I fucking hate it. It makes me feel like all I do is drive her insane.
“Looks like I’m headed downtown,” I mutter, throwing my sheets off me and sitting up.
“You’re not going anywhere. You’re grounded,” Mom reminds me as firmly as she can, but the threat is empty and she knows it. She can’t handle me. She doesn’t know how to. I hate disappointing her, but I don’t know what else to do either. This is just the way I am these days.
“I’m going to the promenade,” I state slowly, and that’s enough for her to finally give up. She releases another one of her signature sighs, shakes her head at me, and then leaves me alone at last, shutting my door behind her. I like that she has never expected me to be perfect, but I wish that I could be. She deserves that and so much more.
My legs feel weak as I make my way over to my bathroom, and when I see my reflection in the mirror, I realize that I really am a mess. I look like I’ve been through hell and back, and my entire body feels damaged. I fumble around in the cabinet, take my antidepressants, pop a couple painkillers, then I force myself under the cold shower until I physically can’t take it for a second longer. I’m hoping it helps wake me up, and it certainly does, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
