About Last Night? Where Do I Begin... - IndieInk Challenge

This is an entry for the IndieInk Writing Challenge. Liz Culver challenged me and her prompt is at the end of the post. I challenged A Lil Irish Lass with a rather long prompt you'll have to go read about at her blog!

About Last Night? Where Do I Begin…

            My head felt like it was floating, full of teddy bear stuffing. The groan I emitted upon trying to sit up out of bed sort of reverberated throughout my skull and jaw. I’m pretty sure my teeth were wearing mittens and my tongue was a scarf.

            The sheets beneath my stark-naked ass were smooth and cool…definitely not my own. The room was light with windows around the entire room painted plain white. As I looked around, alarm began to rise up from my core (or was it vomit?) but I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm down. Where am I? What the HELL did I do?! Oh, GOD, Ryan’s going to kill me. I began to scrutinize my surroundings. There was an old steamer trunk covered in chipped white paint next to the bed being used as a nightstand. On it, an alarm clock displaying the truth that I’d slept until 10:30, my cell phone and car keys (thank GOD), a couple of remotes, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a note.

Unfortunately, there was nothing else around the room except for a few live music fliers and a rack system stereo near the corner. The hardwood floors were scuffed and scratched. There were two four-panel doors on the same wall. Both were closed.

I tried to piece together what had happened the night before. I was pretty good at working the evening backwards, usually. It wasn’t working this time. I flat-out blacked out at some point.

Okay. I met some friends at the diner. I had a BLT with Ruffles and a vanilla Coke. We walked three blocks down to a small, crowded bar – one of those places with pendant lamps and velour upholstery. Ryan suggested that maybe I’d had enough to drink but I disagreed. I remember getting into a small argument with him while our friends Chris and his new girlfriend Elizabeth stood by, helpless, and I went to the bathroom. Elizabeth came in to talk to me but I didn’t want to talk to her – I just met her last night. I remember talking to some other guy at the bar. Ryan came up to us. And then…that’s pretty much all I remember. Fuck. How did I manage to ruin my entire life over the course of a few drinks?

I picked up my cell phone. There were no missed calls and only one text from a friend in another state: “Are you okay? You sent some pretty effed up texts last night! Drunk again?” But no missed calls. Ryan never called. I checked incoming and outgoing calls. Ryan never called. Fuck.

I got up and found my clothes on the floor. I put them back on, tears beginning to well up in my eyes. The bed was nothing but a mattress on the floor, covered in very expensive sheets. I picked up my cell and my car keys. I didn’t even know if my car was outside. I drove last night but there’s no way I could have driven if I was that drunk. Either way, I had to piss like a racehorse and needed to find the bathroom. Do I want to see what’s behind Door #1, or Door #2? I opened the door on the right and walked into the bathroom. It was freakishly clean and empty except for a toothbrush, toothpaste, and toilet paper. At least there was body wash and a poofy thing in the shower. I took a really good look at the nasty, disgusting, shameful reflection of myself – then I remembered the note. Coffee. Good.

            The second door led to one big room with an open kitchen on one end. Again, there were windows all over the living area. Nothing but boxes everywhere, but there were some interesting things on the counter. My purse was on the counter. There was a coffee maker full of hot coffee with four coffee mugs and a barstool. I poured some coffee and peeked in the fridge. There was the sour milk, half a bottle of Dasani, a few Heinekens (eww), and a tub of chocolate cake frosting. I hate black coffee but it looked like that was all I was gonna get.

            There was nothing in the apartment at all to make it look personalized. The boxes made it look like someone was in a transition. There a plain blatantly-Ikea sofa and loveseat combo in, yep, white, but that was the only furniture. The more I realized how generic the room was, the more frightened I became. Maybe if I just focused on my coffee…but I couldn’t. My eye was twitching and the hangover was beginning to set in.

I have to get out of here. I have to get home and…and what? Where do I start? Where do I begin? There’s no way I can lie to Ryan about what happened – especially if I don’t know how much he knows. I have to get home first and then I can evaluate things. Oh, this is going to hurt…He was right; I should have just stopped drinking. He knows it interacts with my medication but I just wouldn’t listen. Why? WHY wouldn’t I listen?!

The dry heaving began, a combination of emotional panic, being hungover (nope, I’m pretty sure I’m still drunk), and the nasty-ass black coffee. I heard a rattle in the front door behind me and it squeaked open. I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t bear to see what I’d done – or, should I say, WHO I’d done.

“Hey, Cheryl! You’re up!”

Oh, shit. It was a female voice. I turned around. It was Elizabeth.

This is about to be a very, very, very bad day.

“Are you okay? Heh. You sure did drink a lot last night. I bet you’re really hung over! I brought some donuts. You want anything to eat, or are you queasy?” Elizabeth’s cheeriness made me feel even worse. I thought I was going to puke.

“Do I even want to know what happened?” I managed to choke out something that sounded a little bit like my voice.

“Oh, Ryan got called in, so Chris took him home to get his car. Ryan didn’t want to take your car so you’d have a way home,” she answered.

“So Ryan was here with me?”

“Of course. I just moved in and we were all pretty buzzed so you all just came here instead of risking the long drive home uptown. We let you and Ryan have the bed,” she chuckled. “It was closer to the bathroom and we figured you’d need it! Heh.”

I almost fainted. But I began thinking about it and I guess that would be why there were no calls from Ryan.

“Well, I have to go back to my old place to pick up some more boxes. Your car’s parked across the street whenever you feel well enough to leave. No rush. Ryan said he was going to your place on his way to work to feed the cats. See ya!” And with that, she went back out the door.

Liz's prompt to me was "Where do I start, where do I begin?" It reminded me of the lyrics from the Chemical Brothers song, "Where Do I Begin," which is where the coffee came in. I'm not sure I tackled this without the ending being disappointing or ridiculous, but I couldn't come up with anything I thought was short enough! LOL! Hope you enjoyed it.

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