You Could Be My Unintended...

So maybe sitting in a pub, in a town I didn’t know, getting absolutely hammered was not the best idea. By the time I stumbled out of the bar, leaving the raucous crowd screaming old songs behind me, it was dark, cold and raining heavily.

Unsteady on my feet, I wandered idly through the town, allowing the freezing winter wind to rustle my clothes and make my hair swirl around my face. After 5 minutes walking the familiar nausea fell upon me. I decided that I would be better off in the seated position, rather than trying to beat the sloshing drink in my stomach that threatened to resurface.

I found a promisingly sturdy wall and plunked down in front of it. It wasn’t long before my eyes started to get particularly heavy and I found myself sinking further and further into that dark abyss of sleep. The abyss was shattered by the shrill ringing of my phone. I cursed constantly as I struggled to pull it out of my jeans pocket to answer it.

My eyes strained as I gazed at the caller ID picture. It was off Matt and me pulling stupid faces. Smiling, I pressed the ‘answer’ button. “Hello Matthew.” My speech was slurred and my tone was sullen.

“Hey buddy. How’s it going?”

“Just fine thank you. I’m going to go get something else to drink now. Night”

I stayed on the line just long enough to hear a small, startled ‘eep’ escape his lips.

I managed to make my way back to the very friendly bar and order myself another few drinks. Somehow the night turned into a game of ‘Smurfs’ where you watch ‘The Smurfs’ and every time someone says ‘Smurf’ you down a drink. After being interrupted at least four times by the shrill sound of Matt’s phone calls, I turned my phone off.

The fellows and I were getting particularly into ‘Living On a Prayer’ when the bartender told us that it was 3 in the morning and that he was, unfortunately, closing shop. I decided that, maybe, it would be a good idea to go back to the hotel.

Once again I noticed I was unsteady on my feet, even more so than before, and I noticed that the world was a lot more shaky than I remembered. After stopping by a trash can at least twice on the way home, I realised I wouldn’t make it all the way to the hotel I was staying at. I had to decide between two people, so I chose the lesser of two evils.

The elevator took longer than normal to get to the sixth story. It seemed to shake a lot more, as though it was threatening to come to a screaming halt, threatening to trap me in there where no one could hear me scream.

Fortunately, the doors opened just as my breathing started to elevate. I made my way to the fifth door. I raised my fist to knock and then lowered it. I raised it again and lowered it again. I was half way through turning to walk away when he opened the door.

His blue eyes showed nothing but concern as he took in the sight I must have been. Unfortunately I was in quite a state of inebriation that, instead of thanking him, I walked straight in and sat on his couch. He sat next to me and held my hand.

“Sarah, what’s wrong?” He pulled the oldest trick in the book, OUR book. The book we had written together. It wasn’t fair. He wasn’t allowed to ask those sorts of questions.

“Nothing.” My slurred speech and the giggles that followed gave me away.

He fixed me with a stern look, the kind you get after years of practice. “Tell me what’s wrong.” It wasn’t a question. It was a demand. A demand I intended to obey.

“Nothing really happened. It was nothing. It was a big fat load of nothing. I knew it was nothing but then this other nothing happened and now there’s a lot of nothing piling up and I don’t like it. Stupid nothing.” I muttered.

“Does this nothing have something to do with a drummer?” He nudged my shoulder, trying to probe deeper into the crumbling ruins of my mind.

“Fine. You win. A couple of days ago Dom and I went out. We had a bit to drink and then we... yeah. And then yesterday you and I walked in on that and so I went and drank away my problems and now I’m drunk.” I nodded at the end of the sentence, trying to emphasise my point.

“I know.” He muttered back to me, squeezing my hand.

“Then why’d you bother asking?” Instead of waiting for a response I pushed myself off the couch and lurched over to his bed, pulling clothes off as I did. After a bit of trouble with my hand eye coordination, I managed to sit, then lift my legs up so that they were actually on the bed. I then managed to get between the sheets and pull them up to cover me sufficiently.

My sleep was plagued with reruns. Reruns and zombies.

Just before the zombie managed to catch me and feed me to the lions that waited outside my window, the sound of someone trying to get out of bed woke me up. Slowly, I opened my eyes and was faced with the piercing light of morning. Matt’s steps seemed extra loud and echoed through my mind as I pulled the pillow over my face to block out both the noise and the light.

Before I got comfortable my stomach lurched. I could feel everything I’d ever eaten managing to rise from the depths of my stomach and make its way back up my oesophagus. The far too familiar taste of bile began to burn in the back of my throat. Way too quickly, I managed to rip the sheets off my half naked body, jump out of bed and run, full throttle, into the only room with a toilet.

Once my stomach had finished emptying itself I rose from the cold tiles, my forehead was lined with sweat and my hair clung to my skin. Matt was sitting cross legged on the couch. He turned his head towards me and then back to the front of the room. He seemed to be staring at nothing in particular as though it was the most interesting thing on the planet.

Upon deciding not to interrupt him I donned my clothes and left. After exiting the elevator I realised my head would explode if I didn’t take at least three paracetamol in the next five seconds. I stopped at the counter and took a breath before speaking to the bleach blonde, large busted, filing her nails, receptionist and asking for a paracetamol. She, kindly, obliged.

My headache eased and I felt free to go and wander the streets.

That feeling of freedom didn’t last long. Far too quickly I bumped into someone I knew. Someone I didn’t want to bump into. Someone I felt the need to pound into the pavement.

His stupid blonde hair shone in the sun and his garish shirt served as a reminder of the contents of my stomach that had already been pumped from my body. His stupid smile annoyed me to no end and his normal black pants made me want to hit him in the face for no particular reason.

He stopped me before I had the chance to run away, apologies escaping his stupidly perfect lips.

‘Hey, Dom, jackass, I hope you die. See you.’ I broke free of his hold on my arm and continued my search for some breakfast, leaving him standing in the middle of the sidewalk, mouth wide open.