Say Goodnight Before You Leave

18. Sunny Side Up

Present. London.

Can you be hungover of someone?

Or maybe it was real hungover. I try to remember how many glasses of champagne I had last night - Three? Four? One glass of wine or was it two? I remember not being too many but still felt like my body fought something out of my system, and failed, now dealing with the consequences. I try to adjust my eyes to the strong light from outside as I sit up, a new pain emerging with every move.

Maybe Dallas heard my grunts because he walks into the room a few seconds after.

"Morning, dear," I sing sitting up. But ruin the facade within two seconds as my stomach acts upon me.

He frowns as he looks at me. "Good morning, mom."

"Why you dressed already? So early."

"It isn't that early," he looks at his watch, "It's a quarter past ten."

"God Dammit! I overslept." I look at his clothes, too good for just a casual morning at the hotel. "You going anywhere?"

"Yes, I thought about walking around on my own. Did you know they have one of the biggest book stores in the world here?"

"Yes, I've been there."

"Thought you said you never been to London."

"This way no, I just was too tired to explain to Lylia everything. Waterstones Piccadilly is the one you talking about, right? I did the main release of Small Talk there, but it was so quick, I had no time at all to see the city, it was a one-day thing."

Small talk and other ways to kill a man, my last book, published 5 years ago and my name was big enough at the time for me to get a bookshop as imposing as Piccadilly for the main release. Yes, I have a thing for big book titles, but the New York Times never complained about any, so.

He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame. "Do you miss it?"

"The bookstore?"

"No no, the rush of publishing a book and that stuff."

I smile to myself. "Yes. A lot."

"It's just that you haven't written anything in a while..."

"I didn't quit writing if that's what you're thinking, but my head's been a mess for a long time now, then Karlo's gone... some ideas will appear, but soon after will get all scrambled and confusing."

"I hope you make something up, I'm waiting for something new just as eagerly as anyone else out there."

I chuckle. "Wish me good luck with that."

"Well, I'm gonna get going."

"Be careful, you know where the money is at. Do you have your phone with you? Ask at the reception for a cab."

He furrows. "Nope, I wanna walk on those double-decker buses."

"Okay, be careful! Ich liebe dich!" I say before he closes the door.

And it takes two minutes after I hear the front door being opened for my existential crisis to come back with all force and also my acknowledgment of the pain crossing my body.

Mads' eyes burn my brain with a thousand questions. I wanted to know what was he thinking when he saw me, what was he feeling when he found out Dallas is my son, if he felt disgusted or depressed or didn't feel anything at all. I wonder if he knows these questions would ricochet my mind for hours and leave me in pain.

I bet he does.

I couldn't stay on the bed anymore, I go to the bathroom to prepare myself for the day - even if the day consists of being locked up in this paradise of a suite reading a book -, I fill up the tub and put a bath bomb from the own hotel. It's when I'm already under the bubbles that I hear my cellphone ringing, I heavily consider to let it ring but the thought that it could be Dallas makes me get up from the tub, spilling water everywhere.