Constellations

cygnus

My eyes start to open mid-dream. The sleepy haze blankets me in its comfort and warmth. I never wanted to leave my sleep and face the reality of my hangover and far more than that.

Before I could even focus my eyes, the pounding headache sunk in. So this is what a true hangover feels like. How the fuck does my twin brother do this every other weekend without notifying my parents? I feel as if the sounds of my groggy noises of complaint would surely tip them off if they hadn't already seen what got me here.

Fuck I can't even remember last night.

I tilt my head to the other side, feeling the strain on my neck when I do so. Surprisingly, I find my mum in a chair near my bed with a blanket tossed over her body. She looks like she's in a very uncomfortable position.

One would only fall asleep like that if they were really, really tired. Although it shouldn't surprise me. She was always the kind of mother that tended to us on the nights we were sick. I vividly remember my dad having to pry her out of our bedrooms because he didn't want her to catch whatever we had. In his eyes, she was more vulnerable than him. He could take the fall, but he'd do everything in his power to make sure she was never in harm's way.

"Mum," I croak. My voice sounds heavy– my throat even more so. I may not remember what happened while I was at the peak of my drunken state, but I do remember it all ending with my dad tucking me into bed whilst my mum shook with panic. My dad set my inhaler on my nightstand where I always kept it and I could have sworn both of them left the room.

Although, I can't be too sure of that now. My mum soon begins to stir. Before her eyes open fully, she murmurs in a feather-light voice, "Good morning, sweetie, how'd you sleep?" She yawns and that widens her eyes. Even sleep-deprived, she still looks so kind and approachable. Why I didn't open up to her sooner was a huge mistake on my part that I'm willing to admit now.

"Good," I sigh, "really good, actually."

She grins ever so slightly. "Well alcohol does that, doesn't it?" It doesn't shock me that she's playing off last night. She doesn't hold onto her anger for too long, at least most of the time.

"I'm sorry about last night."

"Do you remember what you said?" she asks, more out of curiosity than to condemn me.

"Not really," I shrug weakly, "But I know I probably said some mean things you and Dad didn't deserve and I'm really sorry about that."

Simply nodding, Mum takes in my apology. "You're a teenager, you're bound to say things you don't mean." Instead of lecturing me, which I was almost expecting, she silently reaches for a glass of water and a small napkin on my desk that must have been put there during the night. "Here," she offers me a small pill and the water. "For the headache."

She's lived a lengthy life; I shouldn't be surprised that she knows a thing or two about hangovers, but it is weird to think about how many times your mum has been in the same position you're in right now. At the very same age at that. I couldn't possibly fathom my mum having a splitting hangover that stopped her from going to school.

Shit.

"What time is it?" I ask, too lazy to go looking for my phone.

She takes a look at hers. "A few minutes past eleven. Don't worry, I turned off your alarm. You didn't sleep through it." She must have noted the sheer look of panic on my face.

"You and dad took the day off?"

"Well when you excel at what you do and work your way to the top, you can do basically whatever you want. Dad took the day off. I had my assistant fax some things over for me to look at."