Incomplete

Chapter 9, Alexander

I awake with a killer headache on Saturday morning. It literally feels like someone is hammering my skull. What a great start to this beautiful day. You would guess that your body would get used to alcohol after a while so that you don't need to wake up like a fucking zombie every time you drink, but unfortunately that's not the case and never will be.

My blue quilt is laying on the floor next to me and apparently I decided to puke on it at some point yesterday. Fresh.

I know I really should get up and drink some water if I want to accomplish anything sensible today. I close my eyes one last time before standing up and walking downstairs where the kitchen is located.

Our kitchen is pretty modern as the rest of our house. White walls, light wooden parquet as the floor, white furniture. Everything is just plain white. We have a small table made of marble with four seats in the middle of the kitchen. We usually eat there. Only when we have guests over, which we by the way never do, we eat in the overly big dining room.

As I take a step to enter the kitchen, I notice Jonathan chewing on an apple. He is wearing his checkered pyjamas. My dad is probably still asleep. I walk past Jonathan to fill a glass of water that will hopefully ease my stupid headache.

"You had fun last night?" Jonathan asks, not looking up from his phone that he's holding.

"It was the same as always. Nothing new exactly," I answer and take a big gulp of the cold water.

"Huh," Jonathan puts his phone aside and looks straight at me. "Any reason for pouring that much vodka into your stomach and destroying your liver at such a young age?" I blink a few times, leaning against the counter.

"No, why would there be?" I turn away to face the window and drink the rest of the water in my glass. An old couple is walking down the street with their hand intertwined. They look so happy and peaceful.

"Just wondering. You were pretty out of it last night," Jonathan states. "You know, if you need to talk, I'm ready to listen."

"There isn't anything to talk about," I say, still staring out of the kitchen window, annoyed at my little brother.

"If you say so," Jonathan sighs, picks up his phone and heads out of the kitchen. The room is filled by a wonderful silence.

I finally move my eyes away from the window.

"Good morning Alexander," my dad greets as he enters the kitchen. "Haven't seen you a lot lately."

"Yeah, I've been... busy," I reply. It's not that I don't like my dad, I have just wanted some alone time. That's understandable right? It's possible for a guy to just want to be alone sometimes, isn't it?

"You teenagers are always busy," my dad lets out a small laugh, pouring himself some coffee in a mug that Jonathan got him four years ago on fathers day. "I was ones a teeanager too." I lift the left corner of my mouth into a tiny smile.

Both Jonathan and I have inherited a lot of features from this old man standing in front of me. Almost everything in fact. Just our sparkling blue eyes are from our mother.

Mom.

I haven't seen her in years. I often wonder if my dad feels some kind of pain when he looks me in the eyes. If I remind him of her. But if that's the case he doesn't show it. Sometimes I think of her and sometimes I even miss her. No, fuck no, that's not what I meant. I don't miss her, I miss the memories and how she used to be.

***

Later that night I receive a text message from Isabelle. I haven't heard from her all week. Not that I've been waiting or expecting to. I mean, she's just another basic girl from school.

I open the message, it says: Hey, up to something? -Isabelle

Nothing special, why?

Meet me at the beach.

That's it? That's all she has to say? Does she mean like right now? Curious to find out, I put my bomber jacket on, jump in my white vans sneakers and head out of the wooden door.

When I reach the beach, the first thing I notice is the girl standing in front of me. She has her black shiny hair in a high ponytail. A gray tank top underneath a light blue denim jacket. As she sees me she waves and starts walking towards me.

"You came," Isabelle utters with a smile on her lips and hugs me.

"And you told me to," I say, hugging her back, still extremely confused why she wanted to meet me here in the first place.

"How's that pretty head of yours?" She asks. I tilt my head to the side, raising my left eyebrow. "I mean, do you have a hangover?" Isabelle giggles.

"It has seen better days," I respond, running my hand through my brown hair keeping my other hand in the pocket of my jeans.

"Do you remember me giving you a ride home?" I search in my memories of yesterday. The last thing I remember is Rachel babbling. Crap that girl is annoying.

"Nope."

"Yeah well you were like totally wasted by the end of the night," Isabelle lets out a laugh and looks me straight in the eyes. She licks her lips before saying: "Then you probably don't remember me doing this." And then she presses her lips on mine. Shocked, I just stand there not doing anything until my body gets the hang of what's happening. I respond with pulling her closer by her waist and I can feel her mouth forming a smile. We keep the same position for a couple of minutes until I need to catch my breath.

"You sure that happened?" I ask now pulling away of her with a grin on my face.

"Not quite, but now it definitely have," Isabelle winks before continuing what we were doing a second ago.