Oh My...

6.) What's Your Problem?

I woke up to a toddler pulling my hair and Marshall sitting on the floor in front of the couch, drinking a caramel colored liquid from a scotch glass.

I yelped a little bit as the toddler pulled harder, and Marshall swiveled his head around to look at me. "Hey."

I tried to ease the child's grip away from my hair. "A little help..?" I hissed.

He stared dully at the toddler. "I would...but Nate always screams when I touch him," he smiled playfully.

I glared. "I'm serious this hurts-"

Suddenly, the toddler let go and fell back on his butt. He stared clapping and giggling with amusement; Marshall rolled his eyes. "What a dumbass."

I didn't move from my sleeping position and instead wrapped my arms around my pillow. Marshall went back to leaning against the couch, looking at the long wall ahead of him.

I poked his shoulder. "Does he seriously scream every time you touch him?"

"Yeah, look." Marshall placed his hand on the toddler's shoulder. As soon as they made contact, the kid started screaming; not in a crying fit sort of way, but it was almost like he was told to start screaming. When Em removed his hand, the kid went silent (except for a few laughs, like what he just did was the funniest thing in the world).

Marshall gave the kid a dirty look. "I don't know if he learned it in day care or what, but he's been doing it for a week now."

I chuckled and watch the kid stumble around the room. "Is he yours?" I asked.

"What? Oh fuck no. He's my brother." Marshall snaked his arm towards Nate, grabbed his chubby leg, and yanked it. The kid fell back, but instead of crying like I expected, he burst into a fit of laughter. "He's so weird. Literally nothing can hurt him. He can fall from the Empire State Building and all he would do is fucking giggle." I watched Marshall down the rest of his drink. "He's a different one, that's for sure."

I pointed at the empty glass. "What was in that?"

He looked at me. "Liq, you want some?"

"Lick?"

"No. Liq. Like liquor. You want some?"

I thought about my journey with booze and how much I loathed it, but something in the back of my brain was tempted. Come on, you pussy. It's one drink--you deserve this.

I nodded. Marshall stood up and walked towards the kitchen. "I like vodka," Em told me, and I heard something being poured into two glasses. "But when you mix the shit with Jack Daniels, it fucks you up." He returned with two short glasses. "It taste like shit though, so I splash it with Nathan's orange juice--sorry Nate."

Nathan giggled and threw a toy car into the air. It landed on his head, and he burst out laughing.

I took the cup and cringed as the potent smell hit my nose. To me, alcohol always smelled a little like nail polish remover. I took a short swig, making sure to force the drink down my throat before I could actually taste it.

Marshall took a slow sip and sat beside me on the couch. I curled my legs closer to my body so there would be more room between us. He set a hand on my thigh. "How are you still lying down?"