Eliot Strange and the Prince of the Resistance

36) The Morning After

Someone is in my kitchen rattling those pots and pans. I lay in bed a minute because my head is too heavy to lift off the pillow. Only the thought of water and something for my headache gets me up.

When I get to the kitchen, Mr. Perfect Penis is cooking my breakfast. Oh my lord, did I just think that? I would be embarrassed, but I think I'm going to have to go lay down again first because I think I'm still drunk. Fortunately for me, I think Gus remembers less than me about last night.

"Did we?" he asks and then answers his own question. "No, of course not. You are very young. Sorry, about getting us both drunk. I'm making us some eggs."

He has found the MRE with scrambled eggs and sausage and gravy. I am definitely going to be puking later.

"No worries," I tell him. "I'm a grown up, and besides it was me who kept finding more of my mom's stash of wine. I should be apologizing to you."

Gus smiles that one-dimpled smile and offers me a glass of water and some aspirin. "Drink up, you are probably dehydrated. And from what you told me last night about the battle at the football field, you probably have a concussion."

"A concussion?"

"Yes. Your headaches. Your throwing up. You said you were knocked out for a bit."

"Hmmm. I was. You think that's what's wrong with me?"

"Had any trouble concentrating? Been irritable? Sleep problems? Sensitive to light? All signs."

Geez, I've got a concussion. No wonder I've been feeling like shit. That, and almost everybody I love is gone. But still, no wonder.

"I think you are right." I say. "What should I do?"

"Well," he says, "I'm no doctor, and there is no medical care within two hundred miles, so I would recommend, rest and no physical activity. No reading. No staring at a computer screen or watching the telly. Take some headache meds. Hydrate."

"Sounds good," I say. "Especially the rest part." I sip the water and swallow the aspirin.

Gus joins me at the table where I am sitting and says, " You look quite beautiful today, Eliot."

I bet I do, and I bet my breath smells like gopher shit. I try to smile and look appealing, but it is impossible. Gus does not seem affected at all by last night's drinking binge. He smells like cinnamon this morning, like baked apples. He is in a good mood and wants to come out and play, but I don't know if I can.

He leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek and says, "I do remember one curious, odd thing about last night."

"Oh?" Shit, shit, shit. I hope it is not my one sided staring contest that I had with your naked body.

"Yes," he says as he is stirring what looks like thrown up eggs in a bowl. He blushes a little when he says, "I remember kissing you an inordinate amount. My lips feel bruised there was so much kissing. Infinite kisses, really. I could not seem to get enough. Sorry about that."

"No, I'm sorry. I'm sure I demanded it. You know mood swings, concussion. And, I am bossy."

"Yes, that's right. You most certainly should not have been drinking and I, well I, am technically on duty. Definitely a dereliction of duty on my part, but still, I've had no holiday since I arrived, so. But nonetheless, I have to go back to work today. I've got to head back towards Elkin. Meet up with my dad and the prince. Shame I didn't find Jack. No leads."

He really is a nice guy and a cutie and quite honorable with his duties and all. Just when I think I might tell him about the direction Cindy saw Torin (Jack?) go when he left, there is a knock on the door.

Gus reaches to grab his gun, but I say, "No worries. It's probably my neighbor again. He always knocks."

"Again?" he asks.

"Yeah, he was here last night. Mr. Thomas, my neighbor. I'll get rid of him."

"Mr. Thomas?"

"Yeah."

Gus still grabs his gun. "I'll keep this in case."

I go to the door and whose there but Mr. Thomas, the man I promised to shoot when I saw him again.