wally's lament.

[ 14 ]

⫸——⫷

You awoke to a stabbing pain in your skull.

Blinking, you sneered because the room was so bright that it made your head pound even worse. You turned over, nestling your head into the cushions. That was when you realized that you were not in your motel's bed; this soft spot felt very different. Your eyes shot open and you sat up, disoriented.

Once you took a moment to collect yourself and the initial pain of your headache subsided, you looked around. You remembered this room, and this couch. This was Wally's living room. It all looked the same as it had during his painting lessons, except that the coffee table was void of painting materials. Someone had placed a glass of water on the table. Gratefully, you took the glass and chugged.

How did you end up here? You thought back to last night, of being drunk and dancing and singing with Wally, Barnaby and Julie. You remembered most of the night, but you did not recall leaving the bar and getting here.

There was so much wrongness about spending the night on Wally's couch, and it made your stomach roil. The newly brewing anxiety was made worse by your hangover. You had unintentionally trusted Wally with your life last night by sleeping here, something that you surely would not have done sober. But he had not hurt you — at least, not that you were aware of — and he did not do anything last night that jeopardized your secrets other than accidentally saying your name once. However, that would require further investigation; Wally might have spouted something to Julie or Barnaby when you were not listening.

Something was clattering in the kitchen, but you did not want to get up, so you laid back down on the couch and yawned. You had no idea what time it was, but you knew that you were scheduled to work with Eddie around noon. Hopefully, it was not that late in the morning yet.

You closed your eyes and thought about Wally again. He said something last night about alcohol washing away his problems or his guilt or something. Was Wally really a murderer? Did he want to kill you, or be your friend? Was this town just some big playground for Wally to play some sick game in?

"Good morning," you heard a voice say from within the kitchen. It sounded like Julie.

"Morning, Ju-Ju," a man that was not Wally said. Probably Barnaby. "I'm making breakfast, are you hungry?"

You kept your eyes shut and remained on the couch. They could not see you from your position in the living room, so you decided to keep listening. "Yes," Julie said, "I'm starving. Oooh, are those pancakes! Yum! I hope they have magical hangover-curing abilities because my head is pounding."

"They don't, unfortunately," Barnaby replied.

"Where's Wally? Is he awake yet? And where's Charlie? Did they sleep here with us, or go home?"

"I think Charlie is still here. They were asleep on the couch last night. I assume Wally's somewhere upstairs. I haven't seen him since last night. I'm sure he's not feeling too great, either."

You decided that it was time to get up. Sitting up again, you drank some more water, then paused for a moment and let yourself adjust to being awake. You then stood and loitered into the kitchen, rubbing your eyes as you walked. "Good morning, guys," you said when you were near them.

"Oh hey, Charlie!" Julie chirped. "Wow, you don't look so good."

Barnaby chuckled. "Be nice, you look just as exhausted as they do," he told Julie.

He was right. Julie's hair was a mess and her eyes looked glassy and bleary. Her dress was wrinkled and her tights were missing. However, she still looked beautiful somehow. You were sure you could not say the same about yourself.