All or Nothing

Chapter 7

One of the downsides of being self-employed was no holiday pay; if Aimee wanted to take time off then that meant no money coming in, so she rarely did. But the older she got, the worse she got at dealing with hangovers, so wisely she had opted to book the day after Emma's birthday off. She woke up shortly after 10 o'clock to the sun peeking through the blinds and a message from her mum saying Rosie had got to school okay. God her head hurt. She gingerly reached for the now room temperature water on her bedside cabinet and took a huge gulp, she winced, she hated anything but ice-cold water. But fresh water meant moving, and she had no intention of doing that until absolutely necessary, i.e., when it was time to pick Rosie up.

John had never made it to bed, instead Megan found him crashed out on the couch in the morning still wearing his shoes. His jacket was tossed over the back of the sofa., there was an empty plate covered in toast crumbs on the low table the sofas were arranged around, alongside an empty pint glass and an untouched tea with the milk curdled. A wad of used tissues were lying on the floor next to the sofa. Megan shook her head as she surveyed the scene, John was usually a bit of a neat freak but when he had been drinking, he was a nightmare. 

"John!" Megan stood over him and spoke sharply. He didn't stir. "John!" She poked him in the side.

"Ow!" He wined and clutched his side, his eyes flickering open. "What was that for!?" He sat up slowly. His head was banging. 

"You need to get up."

"Nah," he shook his head groggily and rubbed his tired eyes with the palm of his hand. "Day off, remember?" He noticed he was still wearing his shoes and gave a sniff of laughter; he didn't remember being that drunk.

"Uh huh," Megan nodded slowly with her hands on her hips. "Your day off that you promised we were going to spend together; we're going to brunch remember?" 

He did have a vague memory of her telling him she had booked something, he realised she looks rather made up; a dress he hadn't seen before, her blonde hair down in loose waves and a face full of make-up. 

"I feel like shit Megs, do we have to?" He grimaced. Megan raised an eyebrow, that told him all he needed to know, they were going out whether he liked it or not. 

"Shower. Now," she demanded, her hands on her hips. "You stink." 

As he stood up shakily it did not cross his mind that once a command like that from Megan would have been a huge turn on, today he did not have the urge to ask her to join him. 

"Actually, you can tidy up in here first," she nagged. 

He hated when she did that, it made him feel like she was his mother. 

"Leave it eh Megs? It's a living room, it's for living in, it's not a bloody show home." 

He didn't mean to snap; Megan was looking at him like he had slapped her. 

"I'm sorry babe," he kissed her on the top of the head, she flinched out of the way, not wanting him to mess up her hair. "Just knackered."

"It's okay," she sighed; John seemed so snappy these days, it confused her because he was usually so easy going. Now he would get wound up about the smallest things; her making plans without consulting him, the space her beauty products took up in the bathroom, even her buying the wrong kind of yogurt... She wanted them to have a nice day and had no desire to get into yet another fight, "You go get ready, I'll sort this lot out." 

But as he trudged out the room, looking like every bone in his hungover body was aching, it was as though he hadn't heard a word she said.

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