Under the Influence

One: Hangover

She was caught up in the music, the movement of bodies as they rocked back and forth to the rhythm. This night had been one of a mission: to redefine oneself. Everything she did – everything she said – was something out of character for her. Whoever she was before this moment, was lost forever. She was done with her 'minister's daughter' image, was determined to leave it in the dust. No matter how good or godly she was, it was never enough, not even for her. It was finally time for the booze-induced shaking and shimmying off every concern, every insecurity, to begin.

As her boyfriend, Brian, passed by her, she reached out and grabbed onto his shirt. "Dance with me, baby," she yelled over the music, her words slurred.

He threw back his head, finishing off his sixth beer. Tossing the bottle aside on a nearby table, Brian took her hands in his and together, they enjoyed what was left of the party before the cops came and broke it up. Thankfully the officers weren't ones that recognized Ruthie, and she got off easily, slipping out the door in Brian's shadow.

It hurt to even open her eyes. The sunlight that was pouring in from the windows was too bright. Her head was killing her, though she did not understand why. As far as she was concerned, last night had been perfectly normal. Truth be told, she did not remember what went on last night, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her.

Fighting for her vision, Ruthie slowly widened her eyelids. Water gathered in front of her eyes, which she wiped immediately away with the sleeve of her pajamas. Sitting up, she shoved the bedcovers off her body, and swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. The wooden floor was like ice under her bare feet as she made her way to the bathroom for a refreshing shower. She hoped that would make her headache magically disappear.

Steam filled the bathroom as the water became hot. Soon, the mirror would fog up, but that was really the least of her worries. She slid her top off over her head and stepped into the water. Instantly, her body was wet, her hair drenched and heavy. Within seconds, she was lost in her thoughts as she mechanically reached for the tube of shampoo.

Downstairs, the remaining Camden family was seated for breakfast. Conversation was something that was rarely missed at meals, but today no words were exchanged. Annie's pancakes were undercooked and the bacon was burnt to a crisp, but they all shoved forkful after forkful into their mouths, each desperately wanting out of this uncomfortable situation.

Opening his mouth for another bite, Eric Camden stopped his fork mid-way. He looked around at his family, wondering if they had heard it too. Water was running upstairs, something that was impossible as they were all here, staring right at him.

"What is it, Eric?" Annie asked as she set her glass of orange juice back down onto the table. Her eyebrow rose as she carefully studied his odd expression.

"Water upstairs. Listen," he explained as they all perked their eyes and concentrated. It wasn't long before they all were forming thoughts about what could be happening.

Seeing this as an opportunity to leave the table, Simon spoke up. "I'll go check it out," he volunteered, and before anyone could stop him, he was gone.

As he reached the second floor landing, Simon quickly eliminated the bathroom on that floor, meaning the water had to be coming from the new bathroom in the attic bedroom. Feeling somewhat nervous, Simon made his way up the attic stairs and turned left, finding himself facing a closed door. He reached out putting his hand on the knob, and opened the door.

The heat from the shower made it difficult for him to breathe. His eyes darted around the room, looking for signs other than the running water that someone had been there. When he found none, he sighed, feeling relieved.

Ruthie had just rinsed the suds from her hair when the shower door came open. She snapped the towel from where it hung over the side and pulled it around her.

"Hey!" she screamed as her brother leaned in, reaching to turn off the water. "What do you think you're doing?!"

But he paid her no attention as the water halted.

"Fine. I was done anyway," she grumbled as he left the room, trying not to feel defeated.

Ruthie wrung out her hair, and with her towel still hugged tightly to her body, she came out of the shower. Thankfully no one was around, leaving her to dress in peace.

As Simon resumed his seat at the table once more, Eric asked him, "What was it?"

Simon shrugged, "The shower was running." And that was all he said.

There was no way Simon could deal with his family's everything's-fine façade anymore. How could they act as if she had never mattered? His parents were the worst. They were the ones who brought her into the world, but now that she was gone, they seemed so ready and willing to let her go. He hated them, hated their fake smiles and cheerful voices. It was painful to even be around them.

This afternoon he had a counseling appointment with Doctor Gibson. Going to see him had become a part of his daily routine. Every day he got into his car and drove down to the office and waited until two o'clock when it was his turn. His parents would hope against hope that he would say something, anything, expressing his feelings, hoped he would make some kind of breakthrough. But he never did, and he loved the disappointment in their faces as each day passed by.

Simon sat on his bed as he shoved his foot into a shoe. There was a full ten minutes before he had to be at Gibson's office. Needless to say, he was running a bit late, and if he didn't get his butt out the door within three seconds, his father would come and personally kick him out.

Doctor Gibson was about the only thing Simon and his father had in common anymore, but Simon couldn't care less. As far as he was concerned, the person he had shared a room with, the person he had been the closest too, was gone and he was furious. His family seemed completely sympathetic for her, and Simon could never understand why. Now they were all upset with him, when he was only a victim – like them.

Simon stumbled out of his room, attempting to tie his shoe while continuing down the hallway. Finding that multitasking was not his forte, he kneeled down. He was hoping that he could get out of the house before either of his parents came to lecture him about being on time.

Ruthie stepped off the last stair from the attic and emerged into the second floor hallway where she spotted her brother tying his shoe. She marched over to him, fully intending to give him a piece of her mind about how rude it was to interrupt one's shower. He needed to see the error of his ways and, of course, give her the apology that she deserved.

"Simon, you owe me an apology," she demanded as he started in on his other shoe. Usually when she spoke to her siblings, they at least gave her enough respect to listen, but this wasn't the case. "Simon," she called to him, but nothing changed. She was beginning to lose her patience with him. "Simon!" she screamed at him.

At first, Simon seemed to have heard her. He had looked up and glanced around the room, not once did his eyes make contact with hers. She appeared to make nothing more than a disturbance in the air.

She threw up her hands in disgust and let them slap her sides when they fell back down. "Wait. You're ignoring me?" She scoffed. "That's great, Simon. How old are you, five?"

Suddenly he stood and continued on his journey to his car parked in front of the house. Before he could take two steps more, Ruthie reached out her hand, trying to grab hold of his shirt. No one walked away from Ruthie Camden. But she touched nothing. She felt nothing. Her hand had gone straight through her brother's arm and came out the other side.

"How…?" she stammered, not able to find any words that could even come close to describe what she was feeling.

Simon was completely out of sight before she even moved a muscle. Carefully, she turned her hand over slowly then back, trying to find something abnormal about it, but there was nothing. Ruthie laughed uneasily. This was a dream. It had to be. People just didn't walk through each other as an everyday activity.

Sighing, Ruthie shook her head and descended the stairs. "I should not have gotten up this morning."