Cupid's Contract

Blinding Headaches & Binding Agreements...

***

When Eve awoke the next morning it was to the burning agony of the sunlight from the un-curtained window and the blinding pain of a mammoth headache. Yesterday's dairy indigestion had been replaced by today's wine nausea and it was with trepidation that she began her slow journey to the kitchen.

She was still wearing yesterday's clothes, though they were dusty and wine-stained. In the hallway she passed the pale and sweaty figure of her mother. Barbara was in the foetal position, her arms wrapped around her knees, her bare feet up against the wall. Even somewhat upside down she looked miserable.

Eve tried to unstick her dehydrated tongue from the roof of her mouth. Lacking the energy for a proper greeting, she gargled in her direction.

Barbara groaned in response. "Never again. I can't move. I might be dying."

Eve couldn't even bring herself to laugh at the drama of it all. If anything, she wholeheartedly agreed.

Her mother moved her head very slowly, her eyes still closed, towards her daughter. Without even cracking an eyelid, she mumbled hoarsely. "If I don't go into the bathroom, I won't throw up. If I don't throw up, I am a good mother."

"Sound logic, mum. I'll pray for you," Eve mumbled as she started on the stairs. With every step the pounding in her cranium grew in intensity and it required several breaks before she was able to fully descend to the ground floor. As she trudged towards the kitchen, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror. Her appearance was enough to send her straight back to bed. Her face was wan, the bags under her eyes a violent purple that matched her stained and cracked lips. She was just admiring the blue sheen on her tongue and teeth when Roxanne stuck her head into the hallway.

"You look grim. I've got soup." She looked way too perky, as if she had just returned from a sun holiday. Her hair was pulled back in a coral scarf and the sight alone of her black sweater and jeans made a patch of post-alcohol sweat appear over Eve's upper lip.

"Mum is dying. I am dying. How are you not dying?"

"Nobody is dying, Guinevere. I mean, really. The way you two behave... I'm almost twice your age and I don't even have a headache, never mind a hangover..." She tsked loudly, and returned to pottering about the kitchen.

The toaster popped and made an innocent noise that violated Eve's eardrums. She covered her ears and closed her eyes, waiting for the room to stop spinning as she took deep breaths. She didn't have the energy to refute the blatant inaccuracy of that statement.

There was an earthquake-esque bang as Roxanne dropped a bowl of soup in front of her. An almighty thud as she plopped a spoon next to her. "There, now. It's tomato. The family hangover cure. You'll be right as rain in no time." A napkin and a platter of sliced toast appeared next to the bowl and silence resumed. Other than the occasional clatter from a bustling Roxy, Eve was left alone to her thoughts.

As she stirred the creamy liquid, the smell making her insides clench, she felt an odd prickling at the back of her brain. She forced the spoon to her lips and took a tiny sip. It's warmth ran down her insides, soothing the spasms in her belly. The toast was cut just the way she liked it, and she dipped it in the soup, letting it get soggy before slowly tearing into it. She continued to stir the vibrant red liquid as the prickling grew. The colour reminded her of something, but she could not quite put her finger on it...

Blood...? No, hardly... she wasn't one for gory scenes and would not have forgotten one so easily. Perhaps she had dreamed of soup? Not unlikely... she often woke up with a craving for something bonkers, only to realise she didn't actually need sauerkraut, she had just dreamed about it...