The Aftermath Of You

Chapter Ten

The next day I woke with a glaring headache. Whenever I looked towards the bright lights my head thumped and swirled and I prayed that I would just throw up quickly and be done with it. But after half an hour with my finger lodged down my throat and my head lodged down the toilet to no avail (except for the tiny trickle of saliva creeping out) I glumly went through the motions of getting ready for work. I'd only had one sick day in ten years – I'd had my appendix removed - and even though it was a good enough reason as any not to arrive punctually at eight in the morning, I felt I needed the 'pain' and the 'trauma' to be heard in my voice in case my excuse wasn't good enough. So I rang from the bathroom (in order to get that 'echoed' effect) and on the answer machine I whispered (as though on death's door) that I was ill and before hanging up I made some dry retching noises and poured a glass of water into the toilet bowl at exactly the right time. Sophie had been watching from the doorway in horror, 'don't you think you should save that performance for – oh I don't know – a day when you'd like to go to a concert?'

But I'd smiled grimly. 'Practice makes perfect.' Nonetheless, I hadn't ever been brave enough to do it again.

So when my work mate Maria turned up in the driveway honking her horn merrily I staggered to the door took one last spit in the garden and then grimly wrenched the car door open.

"Oh jeez, Toni! You don't look so good!" Maria said cautiously. "You were obviously drinking to celebrate? Did you get good news from the bank?"

"Ugg," I replied adequately, before elaborating with, "crap!"

Maria sniffed me with a horrified look in her eyes. "You're still tanked, aren't you?"

"Am I?" I asked despairingly, watching as she swerved into the traffic (in Arrowtown traffic constitutes a stray dog, three pedestrians and a truck) "I need some Listerine." I rummaged hopefully through her glove box. Great, a shower in a can instead. I applied the deodorant liberally and the scent nearly made me faint. Nausea swirled around my body; I helped myself to her chewing gum before sitting in silence the rest of the ride, murmuring, "Mm," and "Oh!", whenever Maria told me anything new about her and Glen the delivery boy.

I knew that I had a hangover but I didn't realize how bad it was until I was sitting with my knees underneath my desk and my fingers poised above the keyboard. The swirly feeling in my head was increasing and I could hardly think, let alone know what to do with my fingers.

"Psst." It was Helen from accounts.

I stared at her in confusion. "What?"

"I was just asking you ... are you on your last legs?"

I smiled through my tears. "I think so. I can't find the Y key."

"It's up under the number 6. You shouldn't be here Haven't you heard of sick days?"

At that moment she was cut short by my manager approaching. "Toni, I really need to talk to you about your contract."

"Right." I wracked my brains. Last I remembered I hadn't signed anything. It turns out that this was the problem. Ms Manager smiled politely, and offered sunny cheerful references as she encouraged me to pack up my work station and leave.

"A lot of people are being made redundant," she offered.

"Mm." I struggled not to throw up on her desk.

Boss Lady began to look drawn and anxious. "You look terrible. I didn't realize you'd take this so badly. Is there anything we can do for you?"

"Not really," I gurgled.

She wrung her hands. "Maybe I could ring around; find out if anyone I know is looking for an employee ..."

Sweat beaded on my upper lip. "No please don't bother, I really don't care."

"Of course not," she told me in a reassuring tone, reaching out to squeeze my hand. "Of course you don't care. But if you need anyone to talk to ..."

"Yes, yes. I'll call you."

"No! Call this woman. Her name's Josephine and she's a psychologist." Delving into her bag, she pulled a business card out of her wallet and pressed it into my hand. "She saw me through some really - rough times. That, and surfing."

"Right." I smiled weakly. I hurried to the door, my feet speeding me first to the toilet where I lost most of last night's dinner, and then quickly out the door.

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