The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the bottle. It sits on a table I don't recognize in a room I can't remember on a street I would swear I've never been to. But I am here.
My head pounds. The sound the blood makes as it pulses through my ears is a deafening roar that drowns out everything else. That's okay. I'm used to it.
I try not to move too much as I reach for the bottle and pour the burning tequila down my throat. A bottle of aspirin has turned on its side on the little couch-side platform. A few pills have spilled out. I take four and wash them down with another healthy dose of the fiery stuff.
I'm pretty sure I woke up a few times before. I remember feeling happy in the downstairs area, then someone offering me the bottle and me sucking at it like a baby. From on top of me he laughed, and I laughed, and then my eyes closed again and I went away. Something like that happened at least three times.
Now he is under me. I feel him moving but he is still asleep. Lucky him. I close my eyes against the stark white light of morning and pray for the aspirin to take effect. It doesn't. My stomach heaves but it is mostly empty, so nothing comes out. It just hurts.
"Hey sweetheart, you're awake."
I force my eyes open and squint down at the fuzzy brown thing in front of them. It takes a few minutes for my vision to clear - I press my eyelids together a few times to help. I press hard. Finally, the fuzzy thing grows hard lines. It has sharp jaws with scruffy fur on them, more fur on the top of the head, and wide blue eyes set in a dark, smiling face.
"Hey," I say.
"Did you get some aspirin?" he asks.
I nod, fearing the prospect of opening my mouth. My stomach has started to roll again, and this time I have the pleasant sensation of regurgitated tequila flowing up my throat. I swallow it back down and try to smile.
"You want a shower?"
"Later," I manage.
"Okay." He wraps his arms around my waist and pushes me into him, not rough but at the same time a little frightening. He is so strong, and I am so small.
I play it safe. I work a grin onto my face and cuddle close to him, pressing my nose against his neck. I feel his jaw move as he smiles and helps me move up. Our skin rubs together like rubber, sticking in places and pulling. The throbbing in my head gets a little better - I love aspirin.
"Hey," I say, pulling up slightly so I can look into those blue eyes of his.
"Hey." He smiles tolerantly, like I am a child doing something mildy amusing but mostly abnoxious and no one wants to tell me to stop.
"What's your name?" I hope he didn't tell me that before at whatever bar I found him in. I hope he didn't tell me as I drove us to his house. I just hope he didn't tell me in general.
"Allan," he says. His voice is bland, his eyes staring off at some spot behind me. "What's yours?"
I grin and let out a breath. I hope he doesn't hear.
"Clea," I say. It's a miracle that I remember.
"Would you like some breakfast, Clea?"
"I don't think that's safe," I confide.
Allan chuckles. His eyes focus on me for a second. "That's probably true," he says. "Would you mind getting up? I have to go to work."
I wiggle my way off of him and drag myself up to sitting, using various lever and pulley methods and pushing against every part of the couch I can reach. I wonder how long it's been since I ate. I should probably get something other than booze in my stomach soon.
I pull a pillow in front of me to cover myself and watch Allan as he walks around the kitchen stark naked. He gobbles up a few handfuls of cereal, pours milk down his throat straight from the carton, and does a shot of whiskey before taking a shower. I grin. He likes to have fun.
He comes out of the little, dingy bathroom smelling decent and wearing clothes and smiles at me.
"It's all yours," he says. "I gotta go."
"Thanks."
"Will you be here when I get back?"
I grin. I always triumph. "If you want me to be," I say, trying to sound coy. I am unsucessful. That's okay. He likes it.
He grins again and nods. Three steps across the room take him out the door. It's not that the room is small. He is just humungous. I usually don't pick them so big. Hmmph. I shrug and wobble down the hallway to the bathroom and take an ice-cold shower which really makes my head feel better. I wobble into the kitchen and make myself some instant coffee. I can't find my clothes, but that's okay. I don't need them if I stay inside. When the cofee kicks in I feel a little better. My stomach only rolls a little and I'm pretty sure I can keep down some food.
I make a bowl of cereal, the result of my years and years of culinary experience. After the cereal I feel even better. I have some juice and then a bottle of water.
Apparently this Allan person can't afford or doesn't like T.V., so I get bored approximately six minutes after I am done with breakfast. I wander around the house looking for something to entertain myself. Possibly he keeps books or magazines somewhere, but I can't find an office and I won't go into the bedroom until he invites me.
So I am still bored. I wrap a stray blanket around myself and tiptoe to the front door. I hit the jackpot! A newspaper that looks relatively fresh sits in a thin plastic wrapper against the side of the house. I snatch it up and shut the door, simultaneously tearing at the plastic and trying to read the front page stories.
I finally get it outof the plastic and force myself to slow down. I would hate to rip it. I look at the title of the paper. It is the Crenshaw Falls Gazette. This is disturbing, since I don't know where Crenshaw Falls is. But nevermind. My car is outside, so I'm fine to leave whenever I want to.
That is when my eyes find the issue. And along with it, the date.
I stare for a long time, disbelieving.
When did it get to be July?
