Page 1 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

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jeanie

O-Face

If my horoscope had warned me I’d be waking up this morning pretzeled with a manly blow-up sex doll as if we’d had a wild night of bumping uglies, I would have laughed. But now that I’m here, I’m ready to cry.

And honestly, I can’t be sure Bobo the Boy Balloon and I haven’t done the deed because his strangely attractive facial features are frozen with an overly happy O-face, like he came and died on impact.

At least he got his. If only I could remember mine. I frown.

His firm vinyl limbs squeak like balloons as I disentangle myself from him with slow movements. Somehow the noise hurts, making my eyeballs itch and my teeth ring like high-pitched bells.

What’s worse? Sitting up causes a new intense pain.

A hangover blooms, igniting a tremor that snakes its tentacles throughout every inch of my body. I wince and squeeze my eyes tight, deciding to feel my way through this unfortunate situation instead.

With my eyes closed, I rise from the bed with stiff, robotic movements. My bedroom floor feels different beneath my feet, but I don’t have the mental bandwidth to figure out why.

On shaky legs, I hobble forward, stub my toe, and stumble several paces until my face slams into a wall where my bathroom door should be. I whimper and stagger backward, rubbing my nose.

Maybe I should open one eye?

One sticky eye cracks open. Through the crusty blur, I discover something epically disturbing. I glance around, but I have no idea where I am. When I scratch my head in confusion, a rainbow clip-on hairpiece falls to the floor near my feet.

The unfamiliar bedroom is strangely quiet, except for the slow, methodical rotation of a highly annoying pulsing disco light. It casts purple-and-pink colored beams across the ceiling.

I navigate a myriad of crap littered across the floor . . . beach balls, unicorn masks, confetti, stuffed animals, pompoms, and too many empty champagne bottles to count.

Too bad I can’t remember the wild soirée a party store clearly sponsored in my honor.

Despite the bizarre items, something even stranger captures my attention.

A brilliant halo of light peeks around the edges of a curtained wall. I know it’s not so weird to the average person, but to me, it’s the brightest sun I’ve seen during a Chicago winter since, ah, never.

Curiosity outweighs my lack of energy, so I yank open the curtains. A blinding death ray pours in, and I crouch into the shadows like a vampire disintegrating to dust. It turns out sunshine mixed with a hangover is unbearable.

I cringe. Stick a wooden stake in me.

After adjusting, I shade my eyes with my palms and investigate. Beyond the window is a bluebird-colored sky, palm trees, and charming pastel-colored lifeguard stands dotting a stretch of majestic beach.

This is not the wintry hellscape of Chicago I’m used to. In fact, this is the opposite of a blustery ice-covered city where people dress like polar bears for half the year to stay alive.

Alarmed and bordering on shock, I place my palms and naked body against the AC-chilled window, desperately scouring the landscape for more details.

Below, beautiful men and women sunbathe at a glistening pool near a tiki-style bar. On the beach, a volleyball game draws a cheering crowd. Rollerbladers and bikers glide along a meandering path, cutting between sand dunes.

Not only am I very far from Chicago, but I can’t account for how I got here.

After wrapping a bedsheet toga-style around my body, I stumble toward the nightstand. Beneath a lamp, I find a brochure for a hotel that confirms my suspicions. On the cover, it reads:

LA FONTAINEBLANC HOTEL

“Miami Beach.” I sink onto the mattress and my eyes glaze over.

Without conjuring them, a collage of memories that most likely led to this moment fill my mind: a difficult promise I made to my son, Dex, the finalized divorce with Roman, my immediate meltdown, the shock of finding out Roman was getting remarried in Miami Beach to my childhood nemesis, and then later, meltdown 2.0 with my mother trying to soothe me.

“The Beefmobile!” I scream and launch myself from the mattress.