The neighbor’s filthy dog was barking at squirrels again, and Gary’s head felt like it would split in two. The damn dog should have all of its teeth knocked out.
What the hell?
Oh! he felt like shit. He would need a minute or so to get acquainted with the plaster on the ceiling.
It was dark outside, which could only mean that he had spent most part of the day in bed? He assumed it was still the same day. It could be morning already.
He moved his eyes gingerly across the room, and barely registered the mess or the smell – dirty clothes, broken furniture, pizza boxes, beer bottles – some with pee in them. There was dried vomit on the carpet and a layer of dust over everything.
Gary made to sit up but the pounding in his head got worse.
There was a bottle of painkillers in the bathroom, and he did not welcome the thought of getting up from his bed.
Something nagged at the back of his mind.
He groaned as he pulled himself up even as his head threatened to fall off. Cursing under his breath, he made his way slowly to the bathroom.
Drinking heavily on an empty stomach was a bad idea. The hangover was not sexy.
So why did he do it?
Mariah would have told him that he was stupid. He thought she was stupid for leaving him. She would have placed a bowl of soup and a glass of water beside the bed.
Shit! The thing that was at the back of his mind.
That was why he was drinking, wasn’t it?
He didn’t want to remember she left him.
His knees buckled but he managed to stay upright and even reached the bathroom without falling on his face. He propped himself up by resting his upper body on the sink and grabbed the bottle of painkiller from the cabinet above. He noticed that Mariah did not take her sleeping pills with her or was that her anxiety pills. Everything was blurry.
Also, his mouth was too dry. Where was the bloody beer?
And who was the man staring at him with red eyes, matted hair, and filthy clothes?
His reflection in the mirror over the sink was making him sick. His legs could no longer hold his body up. Hands clutching the pills, he put his back against the wall and slid to the floor.
Weak from not eating well, it took him three tries to open the bottle. When he finally opened it, he couldn’t remember how many he was supposed to take. Well, he couldn’t remember when last he took a shower either.
He took the pills. And then some. Only because he wanted to stop feeling like Zeus was using his head for target practice.
His eyes were so heavy. Ah! So sleepy. He could feel the darkness closing in – he would dream now – maybe Mariah would be there, and things would be like it used to be before – the shower would have to wait.