The Healer | Part 3: The Survivors

The Hangover

Edith

I woke up slightly disoriented the following morning. Once I got my bearings, I had an overwhelming sense of déjà vue. I hadn't slept on anyone's sofa in over two years.

I wanted George. That was my favourite place to sleep, next to him. I wasn't sure if I should be angry with him or feel sorry for him. I had been worried sick about him yesterday, but how could I blame him for what happened? How was he supposed to cope with Fred's death on their birthday? He would always share a birthday with him.

It was early, I was used to getting up early to get to the hospital, it was odd to be able to sleep in. But I didn't want to this morning, if I did, I wanted to do it in my own bed.

I swung my legs off the sofa and crept upstairs to check on George. The house was eerily quiet, the sun was only just starting to rise so it was still a bit dark.

I opened the bedroom door as quietly as I could. He was still asleep, and still naked. He was laying face down in his pillow, snoring loudly and taking up nearly the entire bed. I shut the door quietly. I would let him sleep. I knew he was bound to be hungover when he woke up and I wanted to delay that for as long as possible.

I used the toilet and went back downstairs to make myself some breakfast. I had no idea how long George was going to sleep for, he hadn't taken the entire sleeping potion, so I was surprised he was still sound asleep. I would make him something to eat when he woke up. Spud must have heard me get up, she met me down in the kitchen, meowing for her breakfast shortly after.

At least I had two days off to try to talk about what had happened. I felt bad, like this was all partially my fault. Maybe he wouldn't have gone out if I'd have been home. But what would we have done instead? Was his birthday going to be like this every year? Every first of April was no doubt going to be at least a little bit painful, but would it get better as the years went on?

Was he going to be upset with me when he woke up? He had mentioned he would have rather gone out with me, but I don't know how much fun I would have been considering I wasn't allowed to drink.

One thing I knew for sure was that I felt terrible and I was still trying to decide if it was even right for me to or not.

I ate my porridge and drank my tea in silence. The house remained quiet save for the clinking of my spoon against the bowl and Spud lapping up her breakfast.

It was a nice morning. The snow was all gone and had been replaced with mud. Maybe I could go for a walk. I dismissed the thought almost at once. I wanted to be easy to find when George got up.

I didn't know what to do with myself. I had been spending so much time at the hospital that I spent every spare moment with George when I wasn't. I looked around the kitchen and sitting room for inspiration. Maybe I could bake something. There was a patch of wild rhubarb growing just outside in the back garden, unfortunately not much else was in season this time of year.

I pulled on my rain boots and strode outside, still in my dressing gown. I hadn't wanted to rummage around the bedroom searching for clothes while George was trying to sleep. So the dressing gown would have to do until he woke up. I didn't mind, there was no one else out here apart from the wildlife.

Forty-five minutes later, I had muffins mixed and in the oven. I still wasn't great at baking with magic but I still enjoyed doing it without.

I heard footsteps upstairs and froze on my way back to the sofa. He was awake. I listened as the steps headed towards the toilet and then returned several minutes later. I held my breath as I heard him coming down the stairs.

'Oh,' he appeared on the staircase and stopped abruptly when he noticed I was there. He certainly looked hungover. His eyes were red and puffy and his hair was tousled. He was wearing only a pair of old pyjama bottoms, inside out. He averted his gaze and ran a hand through his hair. 'I didn't think you would still be here.'