Cantabile [on hold]

09. Syncopation

🎶 🎶 🎶

SYNCOPATION
an interruption of the regular beat or flow

🎶 🎶 🎶

I OPENED MY eyes and found myself in comfortable double bed, dressed still in my clothes from the day before. Light was flooding in through the window, which didn't have its blinds drawn, and I heard myself groan as I turned over away from it.

As to where I was, I didn't care. I felt like complete shit, ready to puke at any moment, and it was far too early to be questioning things like that.

You're at Kyle's, a voice at the back of my mind told me. Oh shit. Everything I'd said to him came rushing back to me, how I'd called him perfect, how we were probably going to kiss before I ran to get the pizza, how I'd been so drunk I could barely walk. So many regrets. Why did I even do it? It had been fun, though. I'd enjoyed myself despite everything, but at that moment I would have taken it all back in a heartbeat. Just so I didn't feel so indescribably disgusting, physically and mentally.

Wait a minute... Hadn't I fallen asleep on the toilet seat? How did I end up here? And where even is here?

I ignored everything I was feeling, and sat up in bed, facing the morning.

Morning. As if. The clock beside me read 11:47. I'd promised my mother I'd be home before 11am. I was truly and utterly fucked.

I jumped out of the bed, grabbing my phone which was lying on the side and trying desperately to find all my discarded things to pick up. And I nearly tripped over him, lying asleep on the floor, with only a blanket and a cushion as a makeshift bed.

He'd given me his bed whilst he slept on the floor.

I had to wake him. "Kyle," I shook him, "Kyle."

"Hmm?" He opened his eyes. "Hey, Melody."

"I need to go now."

"What?" He sat up and glanced around for his clock. "Yeah, shit, maybe. Do you want some breakfast or something? We've got cold pizza."

The thought of eating anything made my stomach churn. "I'm okay. I'd love some water, though."

"Ha, even though you practically drank our tap dry last night?"

I paused. "What? You mean in vodka?"

"No, in water."

"What are you talking about? When was this?"

"Just before we went to bed."

I'd heard about people losing their memory when drinking, in films and books and stuff, but I always thought it was exaggerated. I never thought it could actually happen. The whole idea of forgetting something that happened to me properly scared me. I was terrified of getting dementia when I was older.

"Kyle, I remember lying my head down on the toilet seat, and that's it."

"Oh," Kyle said, climbing up off the floor, "figures. You seemed pretty out of it. Basically, I knocked on the door and you woke up, and came out. I thought maybe you should go to bed, but I made you drink some water first – because that's how you stop yourself from getting a hangover. And then you came upstairs and fell asleep almost instantly."