The Significance of Orange Juice

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

I was confident of two things. One, that my body ached as if a gorilla had used me as a punching bag. And two, that I woken up in an unfamiliar room. Again.

I propped myself up on one arm, ignoring the spike of pain that shot through my wrist as I landed on it. Maybe there had been two gorillas attacking me. I prised my eyes open and looked blearily around the room. The curtains were pulled tightly shut across the window, but the room was still light enough for me to be able to confirm my suspicion that this was definitely not my room. Damn, is this going to happen every time I drink?

I pulled myself up and out of the bed, leaning against the wall as the world began to swim before my eyes. Ignoring the thudding in my head, I lurched from the room and headed towards the clattering coming from downstairs. The noise lead me into a kitchen where Jay was busy buttering a mountain of toast.

“Oh thank god, it’s you.” I breathed with a sigh of relief at the sight of Jay looking so at home in the kitchen. At least I hadn’t ended up in some stranger’s house. Though, this had to be the first time that I’d ever been happy to see Jay. He turned around as I spoke and smiled widely.

“You look like crap.” He laughed, passing me a plate with a stack of toast on it. I scowled and bit viciously into a slice of toast. It wasn’t exactly like Jay looked fantastic either, his blood shot eyes a small memento to the excessive drinking that had gone on last night. I grimaced as my head pounded. Driving my parents insane could be more painful than I had expected.

The toast actually seemed to be helping to quell my nausea. Together, Jay and I set upon the mammoth task of eating an entire loaf’s worth of toast. I grabbed another slice, munching into it much more happily now that it didn’t look as if the toast would be making a rapid return journey. There’s something very off putting about semi-digested toast. Finally, I swallowed the last mouthful and stretched back in my chair to get a better look at my distended stomach.

Now that my stomach was sated, my headache came back in full force, demanding to be noticed. Jay gave me a knowing look as pain flashed across my face and he slid two painkillers over the counter. Smiling thankfully, I headed over to the fridge to find something to wash the tablets down with. My eyes fell upon a carton of orange juice and I smiled happily.

Jackpot.

I rummaged around the cupboards, muttering under my breath about idiots who couldn’t organise their kitchen logically. I mean, who keeps paprika in the same cupboard as a frying pan and a packet of balloons? Idiots, clearly.

Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I flung an elbow about behind me in self-defence. There was a loud groan and a thud and I turned around to see Jay curled in a tight ball on the floor, his hands cupped protectively around his balls.

“What the hell?” he gasped, with more than a little irritation leaking into his voice. I shrugged and took the glass that he’d been trying to hand me before I attacked him. He shouldn’t have surprised me so early in the morning. It always ended up badly.

Leaving Jay on the floor where he’d fallen, I poured myself a glass of orange juice and gulped down the pills eagerly. The whole effect was sort of spoiled when I choked on the bits.

“Bits? Really, Jay? Do you not have any smooth OJ?” I spluttered.

Jay balanced himself on his elbows and shot me a look that clearly said that this was karma for elbowing him in the family jewels earlier. “I never buy anything else,” he replied simply.

“Oh yes,” I drawled sarcastically, “Because you’re grandfather has some great life philosophy that vilifies anyone who drinks smooth orange juice.”