bunch of oneshots

Mend

    "Are you alright, lady?" 

    I woke up to the sight of a man about my age sitting beside me at the bar table.

    Wait, bar table? How did I get here? I should check my phone...

    Oh, right. My boyfriend of 2 years broke up with me. I felt nauseous and felt vomit crawling up my throat. Slowly. I cupped my left hand over my mouth and run to the bathroom. 

     I threw up. A lot. By the time I was done, there was sweat trickling down my forehead, into my eyes, or just simply into the sink. It smelled terrible in here. I looked up. My makeup was ruined, lipstick smudged, mascara lines down my face. I stopped looking at myself and started splashing water onto my face. 

     I returned to my seat. I wasn't over him yet. I picked up my glass and tipped the liquor into my mouth--before I could down it in one gulp, the man who was beside me grabbed my hand and snatched the wineglass away. 

    "Stop drinking. You don't look too well."

    "I'd advise you to mind your own business," I started, "Give me back my drink." He shook his head and turned to the bartender instead. 

     "Mind getting this beautiful lady here a glass of warm water? Wouldn't want her hauling her guts out again, would we?" He said with a chuckle. I scowled. How rude! Is that how you treat a lady you've never met before?

     The bartender, of course, gave me the glass of water. With my drink taken away, I guess I have no choice. I swallow the liquid, the aftertaste of vomit still lingering in my mouth. I almost gag, but I finish the water anyway. 

     "Good girl." He smiles, and I study his facial features. He looked surprisingly good looking, as much as I despised the smug grin on his face. "What's your name?" He asks, grinning again.

     "What, are you going to hit on me? I have a boy-" I realized I was about to say boyfriend, but no, I don't have one. I had one yesterday, but not now. "Maraleine," I cough out. "Maraleine Dayne." I haven't heard myself say my name for so long. I remember him again. He always only called me "Mara" or just the typical "babe". He never uttered my full name, even once. Not even when he was mad. Not even when we broke up over phone, 3 hours ago. 

     I received his phone call. I was happy; we hadn't seen each other in a week. I was disappointed soon enough. I really thought that we would be together forever, that he was the one for me. But then he said that he was done. In the background, I heard a girl's voice. A voice much more feminine than mine. "Who are you calling, babe?" She said that. I heard it loud and clear. I recognized that voice. 

     It was my sister.

      For the whole week he's been on a business trip, he was cheating on me. With my dear younger sister. I hung up. Immediately. I couldn't even cry from the shock. I grabbed my coat, opened the door--violently. I got in the car and I couldn't think straight. I was ready to drive myself off a cliff, straight into the ocean, wherever. But I didn't. I went to a bar, of all places. Maybe I'll die from alcohol poisoning. That sounds like the perfect headline : "Woman dies from alcohol poisoning after breakup" or something like that.

     I wanted to scream. Shout. Yell at someone. Why did it have to be me? What was so good about my goddamned sister? I couldn't understand. No, this is a dream. It has to be a dream. Wake up, wake up--

     It's warm. Was it a dream after all? The neon lights somehow shook their heads at me and told me that this is reality. The man beside me, whoever he was. I didn't even ask for his name back. He was shaking me. What happened? Did I pass out?