I woke up, choking for air, strangling even. When I opened my eyes, all I she saw were the pale, green stars on the ceiling and walls. It reminded my of my childhood bedroom. Where am I? I thought. Certainly not in my childhood bedroom I answered myself.
I looked around, my eyes trying to focus, but the blinding headache prevented any kind of focus. Everything looked hazy–like my eyes had a film over them. I briefly wondered if it was worth it to get out of bed and look for ibuprofen. I decided it was. And also water. My throat felt as if I hadn’t had any water in years.
Naked, I climbed out of bed and went towards the bathroom. Where was I? Everything looked vaguely familiar, yet not. I shielded my eyes from the morning sun daring to enter through a gap in the curtains. Where the fuck was I? And what the fuck happened that I can’t remember anything.
There was a lump in the bed. Oh, there’s someone else here too. Maybe they know what happened.
I made my way to the bathroom. I was definitely not in. my house. There was no ibuprofen where there should be ibuprofen. But I did find a bottle of oxycodone. HMMM, I’ve never taken oxy before, I thought to myself. Maybe it will help, I thought. I struggled with the orange prescription vial but managed to open the child-resistant top after a momentary struggle.
Still naked, I made my way to the kitchen. I swallowed the pill and chased it with a mouthful of wine from a bottle that I don’t remember having last night. What the actual fuck happened last night? I thought again. I looked around the kitchen and it was a mess. 6 empty wine bottles lay strewn around. An empty bottle of vodka lay sideways, mocking me, or at least I thought it was. There was a small bowl of pills, another small bowl of herbs, and some powdery residue in various places in the kitchen. For the umpteenth time, I wondered what the actual fuck happened last night. Oh, and where was I?
Suddenly conscious that I was still naked, I made my way back to the bedroom, looking for clues in each direction. My clothes were everywhere–down the hall, in the bed, on the floor. I gathered them up and attempted to put myself together. I remembered that my throat was still parched. After putting on clothes, I went back to the kitchen and filled up a somewhat dirty but the cleanest cup I could find with water.
Twenty minutes later, the warm, lightheaded feeling with a twinge of nausea arrived. The narcotic wave.
I pulled the covers back and discovered Chris was the naked figure in the bed, Well, I guess that’s good, I thought to myself. At least if I’m going to drown in debauchery, it’s with my boyfriend. I walked back through the house trying to figure out where I was. Through process of elimination I realized I wasn’t in my apartment or Chris’s house. I still had no idea where I was or how I got there.
I tapped Chris on the shoulder and he grumbled “oh my fucking god, what!”
“Chris, where are we? What happened last night?”
“You don’t remember? Oh my god, you were amazing”
I stopped asking questions as I’m not sure I wanted to know anymore. I could piece together that there was sex involved. And drugs. And alcohol. I don’t even think I want to know anything more.
I focused on the pale green stars, the kind that would glow in the dark if it were dark.
“Chris, I was accepted to medical school, and I’ve decided that I’m going to do it”
