The Sun is Gone

Facing the Past

The next morning I awoke feeling ill. I don't know if it was from the vodka or from crying so much, but I suspected it was a mixture of both. Kurt wasn't in bed, but I quickly discovered he was getting sick in the bathroom in the hall, which gave me no choice but to bolt to through my dad's old bedroom to his bathroom to be sick myself.

When I was finished, I curled up on the ground, leaning against the bathtub.  My head was throbbing so hard I could barely think.  I wondered if the medicine cabinet had some Tylenol.  Finally, I gathered enough willpower to stand.  I swung open the cabinet door and discovered several pill bottles.  Some were prescription and some were over-the-counter.  There was a bottle of Tylenol, but something else caught my eye.  A prescription bottle labeled MS Contin.  Morphine.  I had no idea my dad was taking morphine.  I had never tried it before.  I'd only ever had some Vicodin a few times when Lisa had it after dental surgery.  But I had enjoyed it.  

I picked up the bottle.  Surely it would help my headache.  It would probably help my emotional pain too.  There were quite a few pills left.  I pressed down and twisted off the lid.  I sat one of the little round pills in my hand and examined it, hesitating to take it. 

I heard the sound of someone moving in the hall.  I quickly swallowed the pill with a gulp of water from the sink and tucked the bottle into the pocket of my sweatpants.  I didn't want to tell Kurt what I'd done.  

He appeared in the doorway a moment later.  

"Are you okay, beautiful?"  His concerned blue eyes made my mind fill with guilt.  

"Yeah.  I'm okay.  I guess I just drank too much last night.  My stomach feels better now.  I just have a killer headache."  

"Maybe there's something here you can take," Kurt suggested.

"I already took some Tylenol," I lied, feeling awful.  

"Hopefully that will help."  Kurt reached out his arms to hug me.  

"Do you feel okay?" I asked, wrapped in his arms.  

"I'll be fine," he answered, pressing a kiss on my forehead.  "There's not much for us to do today anyway.  I think we should just get some rest.  Especially you.  Tomorrow is going to be tough."  

"Yes, it is," I agreed.  I didn't even want to think about the funeral.  

"Let's go grab some water and lay down again.  We'll get your head feeling better."  I smiled.  Kurt was so sweet to me.  I didn't know why I couldn't tell him about the morphine.  He definitely wasn't the type who would mind.  But for some reason I just felt embarrassed about it.  

A few minutes after lying down, the warm, fuzzy sensation of the morphine hit me and my headache faded away.  I felt a little dizzy, but in a good way.  This was better than the Vicodin.  I felt really fucked up.  Kurt was going to know something was up.  Why did it really matter though?  Everything felt so good.  The ball of emotional pain that I'd been holding inside became more distant.  It was there, but it wasn't at the forefront of my thoughts.  I felt so much better.  Kurt would like to feel this way too.  I knew it.  I should tell him, I thought.  He could have some too.  We could both be happy.  

"Kurt?" I asked.  

"Yeah?" he answered, gazing at me.  "Is everything alright?"

"I have to tell you something," I replied, realizing that my voice sounded off.  Kurt leaned over on his side and leaned on his elbow, looking concerned.  

"What is it, sweetheart?"  I reached for my pocket and pulled out the bottle.  

"I found this in Dad's medicine cabinet this morning."  I held up the bottle.  "And I took one.  It's morphine.  I've never done it before, but I thought it would help my head."  I paused as Kurt processed what I'd said, afraid he'd be angry.  He took the bottle from me and looked at the label.