Always (2/3)

49: the effervescence of resentment

49
Dipper

I wasn't expecting much the following morning. Pazzie was still out cold in my bed and it brought back fleeting memories of the night prior.

Pacifica, my sister, and I were having the best night ever, it was especially needed after the horrible reunion with my mother.

My father had yet to show up and for that, I was grateful. He would absolutely take my mother's side in my whole relationship with Pacifica.

I found myself sitting at the table at seven in the morning (hangover or not, I was not one to break from routine, or what you will), a killer headache a cup of coffee, and a jet-lagged mother chewing me out.

"I mean what were you thinking?!" She exclaimed. "Drinking all night?! Although, I have to say I'm impressed that you managed to play the piano so well in your state."

The misguided compliment threw me for a loop but I couldn't think too much about that now. I had many other things to ponder upon.

"Glad to know my talents are still appreciated." I took a long sip of coffee and tried to keep the room from spinning.

Mabel, who sat across from me, snorted into her coffee.

"And you. I'm so disappointed in you!" She whirled on Mabel.

"Relax, Mother." Mabel rolled her eyes. "There's nothing wrong with having a little bit of fun. I mean, you must've had fun! After all, Dipper and I are here."

I tried my hardest to keep my composure, but my efforts were all in vain.

She glared at Mabel and me in turn. "The ball is tonight! I will not allow my children to show up hungover and disheveled!"

"Relax," I found myself saying. My head was pounding louder than a bass drum and it was getting even more difficult to focus on anything other than that factor. "The ball itself doesn't begin until seven, this evening. Considering that, I have about twelve hours until that time to get over this 'hangover', as you so delicately put it."

Mother made a sound of disgust. "If your father were here--"

"Alas, he's not." I interrupted. "I must say, this is the only time I appreciate his need to be fashionably late."

"Mother, honestly," Mabel rolled her eyes. "We've been planning this since the beginning of summer. There is absolutely nothing that could possibly go wrong. Unless, you and Father decide to make a scene."

Mother bristled at Mabel's comment but said nothing afterward. Instead, she walked out of the room saying that she needed to call our father. With a quick glance at Mabel, I knew that the two of us were quite relieved that she chose not to say another word.

"Anyways," Mabel looked in my direction. "How was your nuit de passion?"

"Nuit de passi--oh." In my state, it took me a little bit longer to understand (and comprehend) that my sister was speaking French. But then it hit me a little harder. "Excuse me? Nuit de passion? There was no 'nuit de passion'! The fact that you would even insinuate --better yet, state-- that there was such a thing is-- oh my head hurts." I dropped my head onto the table and let out a low groan.

Beside me, Mabel snickered. "You need to get rid of that hangover, Dipshit."

"You're telling me that you aren't hungover?" I raised my head just enough to glare at her.

"Of course I am." She shook her head and downed another long sip of her coffee, finishing it off with a flourish. "But I just have a better way of hiding it."