The Year I Turned 20

1 (Where Am I?)

"Sh*t. Where am I now?" I ask myself as I awaken to the burning sensation seeping through the curtains. I shield my eyes from the  sun's rays and blink a few times to adjust my eyes. I get off from the floor and immediately grab my head. "What the f*ck?" I have a hangover? Again. Great.

I look at my surroundings: dried vomit where I was just lying, bloodied white wrinkled bed sheets, empty beer cans and broken bottles.

I pat my jeans to find my phone. I find the rectangular gadget in my back pocket. I fumble for it and accidentally drop it. The phone case shatters. "Hey, you finally awake?" says a voice from the other room. Da*n it, I think to myself. I try to figure out if I know the voice. I don't respond and the voice continues, "You alright in there?" 

I hear foot steps in the hallway get louder and the voice materializes into a brown-haired guy with stubble on his upper lip and chin. He stands in my doorway and we are eye level. I feel like I know him from before, but can't grasp who he is. I keep staring at his eyes and I see his eyebrows furrow. 

"Uhh... yeah. The staring is kinda weird," he says straightfaced with a glimmer of humor. "Well, what? You gonna look at me all creepily the whole day," he continued. I shake my head... a little too hard because the hangover is kicking in. I clutched my head again, "Sorry. Uhm... where am I?" I've never been so confused in my life.

"Well, you're actually in my house. I guess you drunk walked your a** here last night. You partied with us. I would've kicked you out, but you're pretty hot and you looked lonely," he laughed. 

"Oh, great. Pity. Thanks," I say jokingly but it in actuality, there's nothing to joke about. He seems unphased and says, "So, you seriously don't know where you are?" I shake my head, "You'd think I'd leave by now if I did."  "Hey, let me get you some water and I guess I'll drive you home or wherever you live," he doesn't smile, but somehow I feel I could trust him. He's about to walk away back in the hall, but I open my mouth and say, "Wait, why are you helping me? You don't even know me."

"I guess you can say I'm feeling a little generous. It is New Years afterall," he just looks at me. "As for the second part, yeah, I don't know you. Well, not really," he's still looking at me, but continues, "we were in first grade together. That sh*t was so long ago." He laughs to himself.

I now realize why he looked so familiar. "Oh, wow. You're Thomas," I tell him. "Yup, in the flesh. I actually never knew your name," he replies. "Uhh, yeah... I don't have a name," I cough. "The hell. What are you talking about? Everyone has a name... you know... something people call each other," he mocks. "I know what a name is," I spit back, "I just don't have one." 

He looks at me dumbfounded, like I'm some disfigured animal. "Well, why the hell not?" he jokes. "I don't matter. I don't deserve a name," I don't break eye contact. "Wow, man. That's a really sh*t attitude. I hope you get that fixed. I'm gonna get you some water and we'll head out," he says and enters the hallway.