Tales From the (Not So) Average Mixed Kid

Aftermath

January 2nd, 2014.

I feel like shit.

Not just me, my entire family is dealing with hangover. My dad was buzzed as well last night, but we had to get home, so he drove.

The coffee table looked quite organized, but it felt sad.

A big bottle of Tylenol sat in the middle, four cups surrounding it.

My parents and I all took our pills at the same time. It's quite funny actually, we seemed to be more in sync during hangovers than we would be after a day of sobriety.

"Where's Jared?" I mumble sleepily.

"In the bathroom sweetie, he didn't feel well," My parents replied in unison.

So damn creepy.

Okay, he's in the bathroom.

This can't be good.

I decided to get up and give him something to drink, so I grabbed his cup, and with much effort, lifted myself off the couch, only to flop right back down from light-headedness.

I rubbed my temples gently to ease the pain, and got back up again. This time I made it all the way to the bathroom, but the sight I was greeted with was not pretty.

A helpless-looking Jared sat on the bathroom floor, his head perched above the toilet.

He looked up at me with bloodshot glossy eyes, a painful look of nausea and annoyance on his face.

Kinda how a toddler looks after throwing a tantrum in front of a babysitter who doesn't give a single fuck about it.

I stooped down to his level and sat him against the wall.

"Here," I told him, my voice just barely above a whisper. "Drink this."

"What is it?" he groaned, fumbling with the cup of tea in his two hands.

"Orange tea, your favorite," I reply, digging into the pocket on my pajama shorts.

"I brought you this," I whispered, pulling two Tylenols out of my pocket. I put them in his palm and wrapped his fingers around them.

"Thanks," he croaks.

"No problem. Now, drink something, you look like a wilted flower."

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"I don't. You're lying."

"Do too. I can't lie. It's on my list of resolutions."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not. Now drink the damn tea."

"Fine," he huffs.

He drops the pills into his mouth and downs them with the tea, choking on the last bit of it.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, my throat is still sore from throwing up."

I pause for a second, then grab Jared's arm to pull him up.

"C'mere," I told him.

"Where are we going?"

"To our room, dumbass. Now, let's get you up of the ground," I say before helping him up off of the hard tile floor.

*******************************

I plop Jared's cup down on his nightstand after I help him under the covers.

"You see that? If you get thirsty, it's right there." I tell him before standing up from his bed.

"Lanie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for helping me out. You're a good little sister."

"Anytime, dude. I don't mind."

"Lanie?"

"Yeeees?"

"I love you so much."

I can't help the smile that forms on my lips.

"Love you too, nigga." I say, and we both start giggling.

I talk to Jared a little bit more, then wait until he dozed off before walking to the other side of the room and getting into my bed.

I snuggled under the covers and listened contently to the sound of my brother's soft snores.

My eyelids flutter closed, and sleep soon pulls me down into the darkness.

As if I was putting up a fight.