1
The Hangover
I wake up feeling anxious.That’s nothing new. I can’t really imagine the alternative to be honest. Or maybe I can . . .
A light breeze ruffles the curtain and the fireman smiles before opening his eyes. There are birds chirping outside his window. He gets up and parts the curtain, and breathes in the fresh morning air. It’s a new day.
But the reality is, there ain’t no damn birds outside my window, chirping or otherwise. I’m surprised there aren’t any vultures to be honest. I must look half dead sprawled out on top of my duvet, wearing jeans and a half-buttoned up shirt. I must’ve flopped down and just passed out last night. At least I’m not waking up tangled in sweat-drenched sheets as usual, with the remnants of night terrors still floating around in my head. It’s the little things, right?
No, there’s no birds. But there is a dog. An annoying little Pomeranian that my ex saddled me with after she walked out on me and Kailee.
Kailee’s our daughter. Correction: Kailee’smydaughter. You sort of give up the title of ‘mom’ when you vanish without a trace, only to call six months later on Kailee’s birthday, drunk and high from a motel room.
Stella—the dog—has her nose in my face. It’s wet. I push her away. She backs up from my chest onto my stomach.
“Dammit, Stella!” I roll to one side in pain. She got me right in the goods with her little feet.
I reach for my phone on the bedside table and check the time. It’s 7:42 AM.
I gotta get up. I’m taking Kailee to her grandma’s house this morning before I start my shift. I’m a fireman, and I work 24-hour shifts usually. When I do, either my mom or sister takes care of Kailee for me. They’re a godsend, I tell ya.
With a groan, I stand up. Yep, there it is. The hangover headache. It waited for me to get vertical before starting to pound with a steady rhythm as I trudge into the bathroom.
I splash water on my face and gargle with mouthwash. I look in the mirror and ask myself, “Why do you do this to yourself?” My reflection has no answer. He just stares back with lifeless, puffy, bloodshot eyes.
It’s funny, I don’tlookanxious. I look more or less emotionless. The stoic soldier—he feels no pain!
Ha. Yeah right.
Okay, Harper. Time to take deep breaths and get on with your day.
When I enter the kitchen, I see Kailee’s already up. I remember when I was seven-years-old, eager to take on the coming day with enthusiasm.
Actually, not really. Seems like a lifetime ago. Besides, even when I was seven, I don’t think I had half the enthusiasm that Kailee has. She’s just bursting with life. It’s quite amazing.
She’s sitting in the breakfast nook with a half eaten bowl of cereal, drawing intently. She’s quite the artist, and I’m not just saying that ’cause I’m her dad. It’s so cute the way she concentrates when she draws. Her little tongue sticks out and she knits her little brow and, if I was a literary man, I’d describe it better, but you’re just gonna have to take my word for it when I say that watching my little girl draw is like watching all the goodness in the world concentrated down into one moment.
Hey now, that wasn’t too bad. Maybe I’ve got some literary talents after all.
“Hey sweet potato,” I say as I clear my throat. “You’re up early.”
“Daddy!” She smiles big, displaying a gap where she recently lost one of her baby teeth. Her honey-brown hair is tucked behind her big ears. I love her big ears. She’s recently gotten self-conscious about them though ’cause some kid in her class had to say something mean about my baby’s ears. And now it’s a thing, you know? Like, it’s something she sees when she looks in the mirror, but not with her own eyes, but the eyes of that four-foot-tall Kyle Wilkinson—that’s the kid’s name. I tell ya, if I could just have five minutes alone with him, I’d . . .
All right, cool your jets tough guy. It’s too early to come up with scare tactics meant for second-graders.
I pick my daughter up for a good morning hug and then I give her a quick spin, holding onto her arms and letting her legs fly out like a propeller. She loves it. I don’t say anything, and enjoy it somewhat less. In fact, when I put her down, I regret my decision immediately because now I want to puke.
“Are you okay, daddy?”
“Yeah, honey, daddy’s fine. Just got a little dizzy there.” I exhale and get my bearings.
“What are you drawing?”
“Ohjust a leopard and a girl,” Kailee says.
I bend down to take a closer look, trying to ignore how nauseous it makes me. “Wow, honey. I love it. I like how you made the leopard’s spots. So what’s going on here—is the leopard the girl’s friend?”
“No, the leopard is the girl’s pet,” Kailee says, matter of factly, “and she’s taking it for a walk.”
