Wish We Never Started

25

The morning sun is beginning to filter through the blinds, casting orange and pink shadows onto the blanket we're underneath. Although I could stay here forever, I'm in desperate need of a shower.

I move softly, trying not to wake Sadie as I slip out of bed and tiptoe to the bathroom. My mouth is so dry that I'm surprised it even opens for me to brush my teeth.

As I'm brushing, my eyes catch an unwelcome glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look even worse than I expected – something only a shower and copious amounts of coffee can fix. The bright side is that the dark bags under my eyes are softening quickly.

With the toothbrush hanging from my mouth, I pull my shirt off and throw it on the floor next to me. My body pivots to turn the shower on next, cold water spattering out before it fixes itself into a stream.

Just as I'm about to take off my sweatpants, the bathroom door flys open.

It's Sadie, seemingly in a panic, almost folded in half as she makes a sprint to the toilet.

"I'm going to puke," she mumbles while covering her mouth.

My reflexes kick in and I open the toilet lid for her, barely stepping out of the way in time. My hands are up like I've been caught in the act, but really I am just trying to narrowly avoid getting puked on.

When she's done, she flushes and collapses into the fetal position. A groan escapes her pale, chapped lips.

"I'm sorry," I crouch down and stroke her hair gently. Laying on the floor wrapped around the toilet is a place nobody wants to be.

"I'll be fine," she whispers hoarsely, "this always happens."

Part of me feels like I should be doing something more, but it could just be how pathetic she looks right now. While Sadie rests, I rinse the toothpaste out of my mouth and check the water temperature of my shower.

"Do you want to shower?" I ask, realizing she looks just as bad – or worse – than I do, but there is no verbal response. Her eyes are closed as she shakes her head.

"Okay, I am getting in the shower then," I tell her, stripping my sweatpants off. Her eyes stay pressed shut, but even if she had them wide open I wouldn't really care.

Then, her frail voice, which I can barely hear over the water.

"I'm not looking. I don't even have energy to move my eyelids."

Before I take my boxers off and step into the shower, I fill up a plastic cup with water from the sink and place it on the floor next to her.

A few minutes into the shower, as I'm scrubbing my hair with shampoo, I hear Sadie get sick again. Another flush is followed, and I peek just to make sure she's okay. Her cheek is pressed to the tile floor now, something that looks incredibly uncomfortable.

When I'm finished showering, I wrap the towel around my waist and open the curtain. This time, Sadie is sitting up, sipping the water I gave her.

"God, I'm more hung over than I thought," she says as her eyes trail my body, which is still dripping with water. While I step out of the tub, Sadie watches every movement.

"Did we have sex?" She bluntly asks, bringing her knees to her stomach. Her arms wrap around next, one hand still holding the cup of water.