Desert Moon

Chapter 23

The next day I was sent back to Smith's house with my prescriptions. It was awkward, but I did feel the need to explain some things to the family.

"I didn't know you had a seizure disorder," Mr Smith said to me.

"Yeah, I should tell people about it, but most of the time nothing happens unless I'm at home, so nobody has to worry about it. Also I don't know how to bring it up to people without it being uncomfortable. Usually I make jokes about it and then people know, but I didn't find an opportunity."

"It's okay dude," Smith said, "I knew, I mean, I remember how things were when we were kids. But I didn't know what to do, because I know what we used to do sure as hell wasn't the right thing. I mean, I never learned anything anywhere-

"No, you're right. You guys did the right thing, to my knowledge. I'm sorry you had to deal with that."

"Hey, son" Mr Smith hugged me from the side, "you don't have to apologize for something you can't control."

"Thanks," I said. Oddly enough, the conversation just made me feel at home. It was nice that people could at least try to understand something that was impossible for me to explain to them.

It was about ten-thirty on New Year's Eve, leaving us an hour and a half before midnight.

"Smith, I'm tired, can't we just go to bed?" I pleaded.

"Dude, it's New Year's Eve, we have to see the first minutes of 1978. It's a big year for us."

"But I'm exhausted."

"Drink coffee or something, the rest of the gang isn't here. I don't want to celebrate alone."

I did what he said, even though I really didn't want to stay up. What would we do anyway? The ball dropping was boring, I'd seen it a million times. And honestly, since I've been on the new meds, it's been incredibly hard to stay up past eleven. Of course, there's nothing wrong with getting a good night's sleep, but I feel like I'm too young to be out like a light by ten o'clock. It makes me feel like such a party pooper at times. I didn't want to explain that to Smith, though.

By eleven thirty Smith had already popped a bottle of champagne. He had poured some for both of us, so by that point, I couldn't decline. Not that I felt comfortable saying no in the first place. How lame would that be? Me, nearly eighteen, and has been drinking for at least a few years, declining a drink on New Year's Eve? We finished the bottle by ourselves. It was minutes until midnight, and I couldn't do much longer. I told Smith I was going to use the bathroom, but I went to his room and laid down on his mattress, still in my regular close. I fell asleep almost instantly.

"Winnie, you ass" Smith was shaking me awake. It must've been morning, because the sun was beaming through his window, "You left me alone."

I rubbed my eyes, "I'm sorry man, I really couldn't do it."

"Lazy ass" he said, and stood up, "Well, here we are. It's the first day of the biggest year of our lives."

How would he know that if it hasn't even happened yet? Bold assumption to make about something you can't be sure about. I didn't even want to get out of bed. For whatever reason, my head was pounding. Possibly the champagne, but I didn't have anything more than what I could normally handle.