Hungover Again

Uhhhhhh. Fuck.

Consciousness again. I was more than happy, closer to ecstatic in my previous state of dreamless sleep induced by a night of strong, cheap gin. Lots of gin. Maybe some port wine? Things got a little hazy there towards the end, I remember leaving Nye's with that cute little brunette art student…Sara? Suzanne? Samantha?

Not important. My head hurts. And fuck, my legs are sore. For an Irish kid I must have been one hell of a polka dancer last night. Whirling, spinning, clapping…I think I recognized the house band's drummer from that VH1 special. And then I saw her. She was a dark ball of energy, with a smile. Mischievous and alluring. A smile that made me want to hold puppies and kiss babies, or maybe it was make babies …Svetlana? Christ, what was her name?

No. Still not that important. Important is a glass of water, maybe two, and a double dose of aspirin. A few more hours of sleep definitely required; a trip to the bathroom paramount to my existence. Consciousness now includes the cool puddle of drool underneath my left cheek, and a glare coming through my bedroom window. Gross. Bright. Way too bright. Maybe if I just open one eye first…baby steps.

Ready right eye? Go. Definitely too bright still, but the scene outside my window slowly comes into focus. It appears to be a beautiful day outside, the sun shinning, birds chirping, it is a fucking Disney movie out there. Look at that beautiful little girl all decked out in her Sunday best, tiny white gloved hands outstretched into those of her proud parents as they ascend the steps towards St. Edwards…shit.

There should be no St. Edwards Church outside my bedroom window.

Consciousness is painful now, the headache in full effect. Where the fuck am I? Two dry eyes scan the room. Definitely a college house with band posters, political slogans, and crappy art adorning nearly every inch of dilapidated dry-wall. I wonder if…

A soft snore, more a gentle inhale comes softly from behind me cutting off my wondering. Oh shit, oh shit. There’s someone in my bed, no, this isn’t even my bed!

The art student? Please let it be that beautiful art student! Who else could it be? Fuck, a new pain, this one more psychological than physical hits the back of my head, really more towards the top of my spine. That spot that tingles when you look the wrong way and almost get blindsided by a city bus or a suicidal cyclist. That spot is on fire now.

Now her name is extremely important. Steph? Simone? Salena? This is very bad. My eyes, more alert, dart around the room for any clue as to her name. Any paper, note, mail, any wall adornment, any scrap…anything.

A soft feminine rustle, a shifting of weight in the small double bed and my heart skips a beat. Desperation turns into resignation. For some absurd reason, a prayer materializes in my panicking brain…

Oh Lord, if you are truly up there, do not let this beautiful, wonderful, magical girl wake up with me not knowing her name. Lord, I've always done my best to be a decent human, and if you allow this to happen…well Lord, you're going have me on your hands.

"mmmmm," such a delicate morning noise comes from behind me.

Now what? Do I feign sleep, let her make the first move? Do I bolt for the stairs, hoping to grab my clothes on the run? Do I stay here and stare out the window towards St. Edwards while this girl sleeps between me and the door?

Suddenly, the door creaks open.

“hey Laine, can I borrow your stencil? I left mine in the studio,” comes a young female voice, and then pauses. “Oh…I didn’t know you had company…sorry.” The voice giggles and shuts the door slowly, firmly.

I breathe.

Laine. I smile to myself and snuggle in.