The Cure

                  It felt like hours before I realized my eyes were staring into the oblivion of the empty screen of my television.  Although I never took a drug in my life, this is how I envisioned what being high may be like.  I refocused my vision onto what I could make out of the light fixture on the ceiling above my bed through the darkness of the early morning hours.  “Why in the hell is my head all fuzzy?” I said in a near whisper, but even my voice aloud sounded odd to my ears as I continued to lay on my back on the comforts of my full size memory foam mattress.

                It was December 28, er, well the 29th now that it was technically morning.  That I knew.   Still wonderfully Christmas break.  What else?  Alexa came over to help me with that ridiculously long thirteen-page physics packet for Mr. Fuller.  Did we finish?  Yes, Alexa made a joke about how the person in the sled in the last problem’s picture resembled Mr. Weinstein with hair. 

                As my mind then turned blank, I turned my head to scan my room as if looking for clues.  I made out my phone on my wicker night stand and spotted my white blouse draped over the desk chair that I was supposed to throw into the hamper.  Oops.   Ah, yes, I wore that yesterday.  Alexa and I met up with Mara at Starbucks in the afternoon and some unapologetic asshole made me spill my beverage when he knocked into my chair.  It was cold…a few iced cubes escaped onto the table and one on my jeans….it was an iced vanilla latte.  As if on cue, my body shivered oddly at the memory of the frigid cold liquid hitting my torso through the sheerness of my blouse. 

                “Okay, Starbucks, and what did you do for dinner?” I asked aloud almost impatiently.  This senior moment was now beginning to scare me.  What in the hell happened last night?

                Deciding to sit up, I relaxed my shoulders to force myself to calm down.  Dinner….dinner…did Mom cook?  Yes, Tommy caused the bottle of soda to explode over the table nearly getting into the steaming bowl of mashed potatoes.  Mashed potatoes, grilled chicken and…string beans?  No, peas and carrots.  We’re just going to Sam’s Club.   Keep an eye on Tommy, will ya? Dad’s voice seemed to echo in the distance as he loaded the dishwasher. 

                All of a sudden my mind seemed to process how parched I was.  At last, I got out of my bed nearly falling over.  My legs felt like they had disproportionate amounts of sand bags tied to my ankles as I attempted to head towards the door and into the semi-spacious hallway.  Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad, I thought to myself as I tried to unsuccessfully regain any level of balance.  What if I am in serious need of medical attention?

                But what if you did try drugs or something last night? a sinister voice from the lower realms of my mind asked.  Mom and Dad would sure love that. 

                I squeezed my eyes shut tight.  That was impossible.  I drank, but never did drugs.  I didn’t have the highest ranking, but I was an honors student and although I was not a star tennis player, I still made it into the local paper every now and again so I would never jeopardize any of that with college just a year and a half away.  Damnit, Jackie, think harder. 

                Without even realizing it, I somehow made it out to the hall which was only partially lit by the skylight near the bathroom.  I just had to make it to the kitchen, though, which was just a bit farther from that point.  Focus.  So you watched Tommy, I continued to think on my unsteady bare feet.  Tommy was in the den playing video games and I recall vegging in front of the TV in the living room with my phone glued to my hand texting and retweeting a couple of things.  Oddly, though, my next memory was deciding to go to bed but much later that night.  I went from my jeans and blouse to my froggy fleece pajama pants and plain tank top as if this were a poorly edited movie.  I suppose it didn’t matter as everything seemed normal.  I remember turning off the television in the living room and emptying a glass into the kitchen sink.  Water?  No, half-drunk iced tea I think.  I struggled to get the dishwasher to open in what seemed like a drunken stupor.  Wait, was I drunk?  No, I wouldn’t do that at home.  That was a social thing away from parents.  No, I was ridiculously tired.  I could almost feel my eyes fighting to stay awake.