Ugh...
I groaned awaken, my slumber interrupted by the sunlight streaming in through the blinds of the big bay window in the bedroom. I rolled over and covered my head with the pillow, willing the sharp point of a headache that was driving into the space between my eyebrows to go away for just a moment.
There had been vodka. So, so many vodkas. Two glasses of wine at dinner with clients had turned into vodka tonics at some trendy bar downtown, which had turned into a stop at 7-11 for more liquor, this time in one of those cheap plastic bottles, and that had lead to vomiting in the Uber. That was really going to kill my rider rating. Whatever, it had been a shitty car anyway. Some bullshit Toyota Camry that was probably made before 2005. The vomit probably improved it.
The headache wasn't going away. Instead, it was now radiating to throb behind my eyes. I needed Advil and a bottle of water. Unfortunately, both of those things were in the kitchen. And the kitchen was very far away.
"Sharon!" I bellowed. If she was going to open the damn blinds, she could have at least brought me some water. I waited a couple of seconds and, getting no response, yelled again "SHARON!"
Nothing. I removed the pillow from my head and sat up in the bed. I reached out to steady myself on a nearby throw pillow as the room swam around me. Wait, the throw pillows shouldn't still be on the bed. Sharon always dutifully removed them from the bed before we went to sleep at night, then replaced them in the morning once we were both up and around.
"Sharon?" I winced as the sound of my own voice worsened my headache. "Where the fuck are you?" I mumbled as I turned and attempted to get out of bed. As I turned, I noticed the dresser. Drawers were flung open and clothes were hanging out of them. There were even clothes piled on the floor. "The fuck...." My brow crinkled in confusion.
Sharon, my wife, was your prototypical neat freak. Every thing had its place and every place had its thing. It had annoyed me when I'd first met her 25 years ago, but now it was such a fact of my life that when clutter and disarray existed in our home it was almost discomforting. It definitely wasn't like here to just leave laundry laying on the floor. "Sharon?" I padded softly across the bedroom toward the door leading out to the living room and, beyond that, the kitchen. It was only then that I realized I was still in my clothes from the night before. What had been a neatly pressed pair of slacks and an equally unwrinkled button-down now were a rumpled mess that looked like...well like they had been slept in. At least I'd managed to kick my loafers off before getting into bed. I wondered, off hand, if I'd done that in the garage. They probably had vomit on them. Christ, if I'd tracked that into my house, I was a dead man.
There was no sign of Sharon in the kitchen either. No sign of anyone really. Shep, our labrador wasn't even there to greet me. It was probably well past time for his walk. Maybe he would come if I called and then something in the world would make sense. "Shep!" I called. Nothing. I tried whistling, but the high pitched sound made me wince even more than my own voice had. Still nothing though. Maybe Sharon had taken Shep on his walk. That would explain why they weren't here, right?
I stumbled into the kitchen, keeping myself balanced by leaning against every piece of furniture between the door to the bedroom and the refrigerator. Throwing open the door to the behemoth fridge, I took a moment to bask in the chilly air radiating from it. It felt so good against my face, especially on my left cheek, which stung rather oddly. I reached up and rubbed it, but felt nothing more than the stubble of my five o'clock shadow. "Hmm," I grunted bemusedly.
I grabbed a bottle of water from one of the shelves and opened it before taking several long swallows. The water felt good, but it wasn't really doing anything for my headache. I reached in and grabbed a second bottle and was about to close the fridge and go in search of some Advil when I was startled by a voice behind me.
"Are you okay?"
So, who are you? Sharon, the wife? The daughter? A neighbor? Someone else entirely? It's up to you!
Submitted October 22, 2017 at 05:42PM by corporealaubergine http://ift.tt/2yBwNoF dirtypenpals
No comments:
Post a Comment