Sixty

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My head thuds like the beat of drums ricocheting through my skull. It's a new day, the sun rays pooling radiantly into my bedroom. I stir in my lazy slumber, rolling aside to adjust to the warm light. Birds tweet from the outside, and I'm now familiar with their song.

Tiredly, I push my body to wake up.

Ten o'clock in the morning. I return the digital alarm clock to the bedside table. The half bottle of Moet on the rug multiplies my distaste for yesterday. I hate getting drunk—I can't remember the last time I did so—yet I allowed myself to drown in sorrow and succumbed to it.

"Get your acts together, Ara! You're stronger than this," I murmur, sitting up in bed to make sure I'm still in one piece despite everything.

Heck, yes I am.

And then it hits the back of my mind that I did something terrible under the influence of alcohol. Shit! Swiftly I search for the MacBook all over the bed. It's still on, the battery warning is at its lowest point, and the email window is still open.

"Fuck me!" I snap.

Why did I send those emails? I scratch my hair, a stab of remorse hitting straight into my heart. All 100 emails are gone from my draft. Tentatively I tap on the sent items, hoping for a miracle, but it's too late as I find all of them as history.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

I take a cold shower and change into something homey. With the hangover floating in my head, I'd rather stay at home today because I'm not feeling good at all. Emotionally I'm still anxious about the emails that got no response—which is all I'm hoping for—and physically I'm a mess.

But what's done is done!

There's a knock at the door as I discard the MacBook away into a place I won't touch anytime soon. I let my visitor in; such a pleasant surprise to see Josh. My face lightens into a smile as I gather a bouquet of pink roses that warm my frozen heart in a blink.

"Dr. Josh to the rescue! I heard someone is dying here after drinking irresponsibly," he enthuses, making a father Christmas voice that has me cackling from delight.

"I thought you'd stay in L.A for a year, at least." I slowly march toward him.

"And miss my own graduation? No way!" He grins playfully, looking so radiant in white shorts and a baby blue shirt.

We stare at each other for a few seconds before he hands me the flowers and wraps me in his arms.

"I really needed this." I squeeze him tighter with one hand, burying my face in his shoulder.

I can feel his smile, but he's tense for some reason. I pull back to gather the look in his eyes, and what I see is nothing but a bucket of worries in his dusky eyes.

"You and I need to talk, Linc," he whispers, his tone quite serious. "Tell me what's going on with you. Drinking yourself to sleep? This is not okay." He glances at the bottle.

I'm not proud of it.

"It's the first time and the last. I'm done with this phase, Josh, I promise," I tell him. "Thanks for the flowers; they're lovely." I smell the roses, inhaling their beautiful scent.

"You're welcome," he replies.

But I remain under his scrutiny.

"What?" I urge him.

"I don't get it, Linc." He looks confused, his eyes narrowed. "You never talked about it, but I know he's the reason why you've become like this. Correct me if I'm wrong."

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