Blink {Featured}

Chapter Eighteen

SAMANTHA GRIMES (33y) JANUARY 2022, 9.12

Samantha's head hurt. She sat on the driver's side wing of the car while she fished about in her handbag for the car keys and after a short search found them. She looked up and grimaced, the grey clouds matched her mood. A dizzying wave of nausea hit her again. Samantha turned, put both hands on the wing of the car then took a deep breath in an attempt to counteract the sick feeling. It didn't work, and the cocktails made their surprise re-entrance to the world, dribbling down the side of the car. The smell made Samantha retch again, this time the projected fluid was a horrid shade of pink.

'Oh, God. Never again. Ever.'

She took a step away from the car and stood up. From her bag, she got a tissue and wiped her mouth, then fished around for a mint. Ahh that was better. The minty flavour overwhelmed the taste of bile that'd lingered on her tongue. Semila balanced her way across the backrest of a bench, with the innocence of a child.

Both her shoes had been kicked off, one lay over by a wall, and the other was in front of Samantha's car. She jumped and turned in the centre, giggled, and carried on walking backwards. And all that whilst perfectly drunk and perfectly balanced. What was wrong with this woman? Once her feet reached the end, she bent down, grabbed the back rest with both hands, and with the grace and poise of a ballet dancer, performed a handstand and dismounted.

Semila looked over to Samantha and grinned. 'If you had a scoreboard what would you have given me? A ten? Please say a fucking ten!'

Samantha shook her head, the action hurt, a lot. 'How do have the energy for that? You were ploughing drinks down you last night. I mean, like bloody hell, you drank all the fellas under the table.' Flashes of the night out streaked into her head. 'I have images of you table dancing, oh God, please tell me you weren't table dancing.'

An indignant look settled on Semila's face. 'I most certainly was not.' Semila picked up her shoes and went around to passenger door.

Samantha turned the key and the central locking buzzed.

Both women slipped into the car seats, Semila's hand squeezed Samantha's knee. 'Like I said, I wasn't table dancing. We were table dancing, and very fucking good we were too.'

The mortified look on Samantha's face made Semila grin. That was until she had a lap full of off pink congealed cocktail.

Sam looked up. 'Oh God, I'm so sorry.'

Semila waved her hand. 'Think nothing of it Sam, I'll clean up at your place.' Samantha opened the window to get rid of the smell, purely for Semila of course.

'Hey it's no problem, honest,' Semila said, and a grateful whimper escaped Sam's lips before she could stop herself.

'Just put the key in the ignition and drive, okay?'

Samantha nodded. 'Yeah, okay. Really sorry about the puke.' She wiped her mouth again, grabbed another mint and put the key in the ignition.

The engine purred and the sound was so normal that the contrasting roiling in her stomach felt like a disease.

SEMILA LEANG

On the way Semila put her head out of the window, enjoying the cool sensation of the wind caressing every part of her face, loving the wind coursing through her hair, loving the feeling of being mortal, being alive.

'Are you okay Semila? Do you need me to pull over? Are you going to be sick?'

Semila brought her head back into the car. 'No, I'm just enjoying life. Living it to the full, y'know shit like that.' She tilted her head to one side. 'You wanna fuckin' try it?' Samantha shook her head. One dazzling smile later and a look with those hypnotic eyes, and she found herself in the passenger seat.