AN: Sorry it took so long. Midterms have taken over my life! Grr.
I woke up lying face down on the kitchen floor with the sensation of a wad of cotton having lodged in my throat and a spike getting hammered through my brain.
To make matters worse, my cheek rested right where we'd spilled beer the night before, and my skin stuck to the linoleum when I raised my head...
It took a lot of cussing and groaning, but I finally managed to get my ass back in the chair I'd fallen out of. To my slight shock, aspirin and water waited for me on the table (probably Tonia's doing), right next to a bottle of vodka and a clean shot glass (Angel). I figured I'd probably puke if I went for the quick and easy hangover remedy, so I picked up the aspirin and downed it, refilling the glass at the sink twice and emptying it each time.
I climbed up the stairs, finding Jack unconscious in his bed, also face down. Angel must've dropped him there after taking him to the bathroom. I thought about waking him up, but decided he didn't have to share my pain—yet.
I walked into the bathroom, took a long, long piss, and then winced when I saw myself in the mirror while washing my hands. I looked like shit. Serious shit. My cheek sported red lines where it had rested against the kitchen floor and little pieces of...stuff...from the floor had gotten stuck in my facial hair.
Instead of spending hours picking the sticky substance off my face, I decided to just shave it off. I opened up the medicine cabinet and grabbed Angel's can of gel over Jack's cheap ass shaving cream. I paused briefly, examining the bottle of extraordinarily expensive brand name gel I held in my hand, and I wondered if I'd picked the wrong brother to shoot gay jokes at.
I shrugged, grabbing a razor and the sheers Angel used to shave his head, mumbling to myself, "Thirty bucks says Loco Bitcho drives the Jarhead queer before their second anniversary—assuming he doesn't hang himself before their first..."
The knocking started while I was still in the shower, washing out my freshly cut hair. At first I thought it was just my imagination, but then the doorbell rang.
"Fuck. JACK! Get the fucking door!" I shouted.
Besides the fact that he couldn't make it down the stairs on his own—for all I knew he wasn't even awake yet.
Fucking fairy.
I hopped out of the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around my waist. I attempted to shake out my hair like a dog, having forgotten there wasn't enough left to shake out. I would've run down the stairs, but I didn't feel that good yet. My stomach still felt tied in knots, even if my headache had abated some.
I opened the door, almost relieved to find Camille standing there, Amelia at her side. Hey, if someone had to see me hung over and half naked, better it be family.
"Bobby?" Camille asked, looking more than slightly disconcerted at my appearance.
"What?" I said, looking down at my towel.
She smiled nervously, but the look was genuine, it reached her eyes. "Nothing, I almost didn't recognize you. I didn't know you could clean up so nice..."
I shrugged, my wet body starting to shake in the forty degree air. Even my teeth started to chatter. "Yeah, uh, why don't you come in—where it's warm," I invited, moving to let them pass.
"I'm really sorry," Camille said, turning to look over her shoulder at me while I closed the door. She scooted Amelia ahead of her, straight toward the kitchen. I followed in their stead, still shaking. "Amelia's sick, and usually I'd stay home with her, but I've got a meeting I just can't miss this afternoon. I tried to call you guys, but no one picked up the phone. Jerry told me to just bring her over."
Oh shit, was she asking me to baby-sit? I hadn't done that since...Jack... Okay, I had no excuse. "Yeah, I'll watch her. No problem," I said, picking at my short, half frozen hair. If I came off sounding grumpy, it was because of the hang over, I swear.
She smiled, setting Amelia's backpack down on the table. "Thank you so much, you have no idea what this means to me."
I did, actually. It meant that suddenly I'd become my brother's go-to babysitter. I hadn't done anything crazy for a while, so maybe Jer figured I'd turned over a new leaf. Unless I wanted to become a full time mommy to both Jack and my nieces, I'd better get into some serious trouble, fast...
Turned out, Jack didn't feel too hot that morning either. Surprise, surprise. By the time I pulled on some sweats, got the fairy in and out of the bathroom, and went back downstairs, Amelia was already sitting in front of the TV, a box of Kleenex glued to her hand.
"Is Uncle Jackie sick too?" she asked, sniffling pathetically before blowing her nose on a fresh Kleenex.
I smirked, grabbing the wicker basket trashcan from the corner of the living room and setting it close to where she sat on the couch before I settled in next to her. "Yeah, Uncle Jack's sick too."
"Does he have the flu?"
"Nope. He's got fairy syndrome. Don't worry, it isn't contagious," I said softly, slouching down so I could comfortably wrap an arm around her shoulders. I put my feet up on the table, slowly starting to doze off while she watched Sesame Street.
"Uncle Bobby?"
"Hmm?" I groaned. Being awake made me hurt all over. If I could just sleep a few more hours, I'd feel fine...
"Why aren't you married?" she asked shyly, her voice sounding nasally—a result of plugged sinuses.
I opened one eye and looked at her. Her round face tilted up to look at me. I was a little surprised she actually asked me a direct, personal question. Daniela let her mouth get her in trouble sometimes, but so far as I knew, Amelia simply didn't speak to big, scary people, like her uncles. I smiled, hoping to encourage her to talk to me in the future. "Should I be?" I asked, sounding a little like I was teasing her.
She shrugged. "I don't know. Daniela said if you did get married, we might have a little cousin to play with. She wanted a little girl cousin, but I want a boy cousin."
"Yeah? What do you know about little cousins? Huh? Where exactly do little cousins come from?"
She smiled, looking cute. Suddenly I wished Tonia was there so she could get a load of this kid working me. "From Santa," she said, sounding indefinite.
"From Santa? Did your daddy tell you that?" I asked.
"No."
"Good, because babies don't come from Santa. I'm pretty sure they're in the Easter Bunny's department." I yawned, using one fist to cover my face. I glanced over at her, wondering if she'd swallow that particular line of bullshit. It occurred to me that I could seriously make Jerry and Camille regret entrusting me with their daughter for any length of time.
Amelia shrugged, seeming to not care either way. She laid her head against my side and continued to watch her show, sniffling occasionally.