Agency

In Which Something Regrettable Has Happened

the next day (technically)

Her left eye squinted open. The curtains hadn't been drawn. There was a streetlight directly outside the window, and the unfamiliar room was bathed in its eerie blue light. It reminded her of UV light — the kind television cops use to trace bodily fluids — and she shuddered to think what they'd find on these sheets. Would it incriminate or absolve her?

Her right eye remained gummily shut, yesterday's mascara having created a sort of natural cement. She pulled her hand across the (admittedly, luxurious) sheets, pushed herself into a half-sit and rubbed her face. Finally, she looked at the man lying asleep beside her — his dark, handsome profile in the lurid streetlight glow. He looked completely at peace.

Her brain thudded inside her skull. Too much wine, it drummed. Too much wine, too much wine.

Merde, she uttered under her breath. What time was it?

She needed to get home.

She crept out of the room, stealthy on her sock feet, and made her way out to the living room. She observed the battlefield: ashtray overflowing; couch cushions on the floor; LP covers and an overturned plant on the Turkish carpet; wine bottles left to make permanent rings on the marble coffee table; empty glasses, greasy with fingerprints; and an open pizza box with only a slice missing. She hadn't been interested in eating, she remembered.

Christ, what had she been thinking?

She moved to the dark kitchen, where she found a clean glass and filled it from the tap. The water flooded her dry, bitter mouth. She drank the first glass and then another in quick succession.

Hydrated again, she dug her phone out of her purse, which sat on the counter — where she'd left it yesterday evening — and reviewed her text messages. Just one from the girls' grandfather at 9:30 pm.

Girls are in bed. Will leave the porch light on.

She checked the time now. 1 am.

That's good, she thought. The bars are still open. A co-worker's birthday drinks. Stayed 'til the end. You know how it is.

It was almost worrying how easily she could cover her tracks. At least, this once.

She flicked her screen to find the Uber app. She hit 'confirm ride' just before she gracelessly leaned over and threw up into Simon's kitchen sink.