Daddy Issues

62 - Fine

When I wake up, there's bright light shining through the windows. We didn't remember to close the curtains last night, so I blink against it and groan, grabbing my throbbing head.

I have a splitting headache. The taste of vomit lingers in my mouth and I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to throw up again if I get up from this bed. I've never felt so horrible in my entire life. Or at least, in the last few months.

My eye falls on Calvin, still sleeping peacefully. But then I look past him, to the clock on his nightstand.

It's 11.45.

'Fuck.'

She'll kill me. She'll actually kill me this time. When I show up looking half-dead, wearing her dress and earrings.

Suddenly terrified, I reach for my ears to check that I still have them. That's a small relief, at least. They're still there.

Not that it matters. She'll be livid. Not just about the clothes and the earrings, but about the cooking too. There's no way I'll get it done in time now.

Bob and Aileen will be there at 3. The earliest I'll be able to get home if I rush out of this bed now would be something like 12.30. I try to do the math with my pounding head. I'll need at least half an hour to make myself look somewhat alive, so I won't be able to start cooking until 1. And that's very optimistic. If everything goes well, I'll still be cooking when they get there and the kitchen will be a mess, just like Mom was afraid of. And it's much more likely that everything won't go well, because I feel like I died and somebody tried to bring me to life again, but it only half-worked and in all this time I've been thinking about how little time I have, I haven't been able to move my body off the bed. Let alone imagine myself cooking a full Christmas dinner.

Waking up was a mistake. Because now my stomach is awake too. At least the very immediate and very undeniable urge to throw up gets me up from the bed. Everything spins when I run across the room to the bathroom and reach the toilet just in time. Nothing much comes out, except for bile that burns my throat. I make a noise of disgust when it's done and force my body to flush before slumping on the floor.

I rest my head back against the wall and close my eyes. I should probably just stay here. Not go home again. Ever. I'm sure she'd be happy with that.

But then where would I live? And I don't really want to let Bob and Aileen down. All they asked for was a nice Christmas this year, when I went over to apologize for the last one. And now it's starting off even worse.

But there's still time. I can get it done. I promised everyone a Christmas dinner, so I'll make them a Christmas dinner. In the aftermath of throwing up, at least everything feels a little less spinny. So I pull myself up and wander past Calvin, who's still sleeping, into the living room to gather my clothes. And my phone. That has 13 missed calls from Mom. There's a string of missed messages as well but I decide to ignore them for now. There won't be anything good in them so they'll only distract me from my mission. To get home as soon as possible.

Having dressed myself, I stumble back to Calvin and shake his shoulder.

'Calvin,' I hiss. 'Can you give me a ride home?'

'What?' he mumbles into his pillow.

'A ride. I need to get home.'

He opens one bloodshot eye to look at me. Then closes it again.

'Shit, I'm still hammered. I'll pay for your Uber, okay?'

I roll my eyes and sigh.

'Fine, whatever.'

I take out my phone to get an Uber and send out a quick prayer that one will be able to get here soon. Thank God, there actually is one pretty close.

'Hey, Emma,' Calvin calls out just before I leave his bedroom. I look back to see him raise his head just a few inches.