Iambeagle searched for typos etc.
Not mine.
25. Monday, January 23, 2012 - sometime around noon.
At work.
"Bella?" A voice from a land far far away is calling me.
"Bella!" I hear it again. This time it's louder and with more urgency.
Rising to semi-consciousness, I feel my arm prickling and numb and my cheek glued to something hard and sticky. I've fallen asleep—at work, judging by the keyboard right next to my nose.
My reoccurring nightmare reel quickly spins and comes into focus before my eyes. It runs like this: Heidi will have no qualms about firing me. She will fire me. In a heartbeat. I'll be broke. Like, really broke. Unable-to-pay-my-share-of-the-eclectic-bill-broke. And fast. I won't be able to find another job, except for baby-sitting and waitressing. I won't be able to pay my share of the rent. Another month and I'll have to move back in with Charlie who lives in the ass-end of Queens. Or worse—with Renee where I'll share the sofa with her pooch.
Quickly and in panic, I lift my head off the desk. The room starts spinning. I squint and make out Charlotte standing next to me.
"Are you okay? I brought you some stuff." She dangles a bag from Taco Bell, a bottle of Ginger Ale and a packet of Aspirin in front of me before depositing them on my desk. "This usually helps me with hangovers," she explains.
"Ahh," is all I bring out as I sink back into my chair in relief.
"Took a brief nap, huh?" She looks down at me with a caring, motherly smile that Renee never perfected.
"Yeah." I glance at the monitor and see it's nearly one o'clock. "Thank you for this and for waking me up. I think I would have slept until Heidi returned if you didn't wake me. And you know I'd be in trouble then."
She chuckles. "Well, that's if she returns. Feel better," she says and walks out of the office.
Famished, I scarf down the food fast and then start working in earnest. By five o'clock, my hangover's still with me. The headache's pulsing between my brows and nothing's in order in my stomach region. True to Charlotte's prediction, Heidi has not returned to the office, so I leave all the work she piled on me—proofread and printed—on her desk and head out.
When I reach the subway steps, I notice that the sense of nausea I felt this morning hasn't gone away. In fact, by the time I've squeezed myself into the crowded train and it snaps into motion, it's actually getting worse. And as I'm running up the stairs of my station, I feel like I might hurl into the next garbage bin.
With my chin tucked in, I swallow and pray that I make it to a toilet in time, striding down the street toward home.
"Wait!" I hear Edward bellow as I pass the coffee shop. Just my luck. When I really don't wanna see him, he magically appears. Okay, maybe there's no magic involved. He's probably worked the afternoon shift at the coffee shop.
I'm afraid that if I look up, I'll hurl. Ignoring him doesn't feel right either, though.
"I can't. I call you!" I yell and continue walking, hoping he'll get the message. I try to run to escape, but the pouncing doesn't do my stomach any favors.
I'm so focused on keeping the two tacos and nachos with cheese down, I don't notice right away that he has decided to follow me. Of course, now Edward has decided it's time to be persistent.
"Hey. Wait. I only need a minute," he says, walking in easy strides next to me. I can't even look at his face, because that would require a movement of my head which may lead to an embarrassing accident.
"Not now. Really," I tell him, staring at the grey asphalt, feeling the contents of my stomach slowly but surely rising.
"Listen, I'm sorry …" he starts and it's the last I hear. Checking briefly that there are no cars immediately in sight, I dart across the street and then start hauling ass. Throwing up in front of him is not an option. Thankfully, this time he doesn't follow me.
~o0o~
"You look like shit. Did you catch Rose's bug?" Alice asks with her lips pressed in a tight line when I emerge from the bathroom.
"I doubt it. Just the hangover from hell," I tell her, sliding down into a chair. She nods and tries to smile. Judging by the pallor of her face and the oddly mismatched brown pants and purple sweater, this isn't her best day either.
"Yeah, I haven't been feeling all that hot either. But it's slowly starting to get better. Wanna order food?" At the mention of food, I start feeling dizzy.
Before I can tell her no way, no how am I eating anything more for today, Rose bursts into the apartment yelling, "Fucking Jane! I hate that fucking girl!" Her face is almost as red as her hair as she drops her bag on the floor with a thud.
"What happened?" Alice asks, slouching down next to me.
"I called the studio on Friday morning to let them know that I was sick and not coming in. Jane picked up the phone, so I told her." Rose kicks off her boots and tosses them in the corner with force, as if they were somehow to blame for her shitty day. She then proceeds to walk into the kitchen and grab a bottle of beer out of the fridge. "That stupid, stupid cow claimed she never got my call. Riley was furious. I almost got fired over this."
"That little bitch. I can't believe she'd do something like that," agrees Alice while I gulp down some bile that rises the minute I smell the beer.
"You don't look so good, B," Rose observes, taking a swig.
"Shut up."
Rose is laughing obnoxiously loud as I sprint back to the bathroom.
Let's hope it will get better. :) thank you for reading.