Bill awoke the next morning to the sound of laughter. At first he thought the seagull had returned to mock him just a little more. Or perhaps to return his t-shirt.
Bill stared at the window in the bedroom until his sight was clear.
No seagull. No t-shirt.
But he could still hear laughter. Women's laughter.
Bill looked at the clock on the night table.
12:01.
Bill slowly sat up. His head was pounding. He looked at his suitcase, on the floor, near the rocking chair. He knew there was a bottle of ibuprofen in the suitcase. If only he could reach it. He stretched his arm as far as he could.
"Like that would work," he whispered to himself.
He slowly got out of bed and stood.
"Fuck me," he swore, as the room started spinning. He leaned back to sit on the edge of the bed, but he was too far away.
"Fuck," he yelled as he went to the floor, hard on his ass.
The door to the bedroom opened.
"You okay?"
Bill recognized Matty's voice.
"No. Please, just kill me."
Bill rolled to his side and lay on the floor.
Matty walked into the room and looked at Bill.
"Well you are a mess," she laughed, looking at Bill curled up in the fetal position, wearing only his underwear.
She knelt by his head.
"Why don't you pull on a pair of something and crawl out to the living room?"
Bill shook his head.
"Just let me die."
Matty reached up and grabbed a pair of sleep pants from the end of the bed. She dropped them on Bill, covering him slightly.
"Can't do that. You might still be of some use."
She got to her feet.
"Now get dressed and come out to the living room. I will get you some headache pills and coffee."
"No," Bill whispered.
"Me die here."
Matty left the room, but returned a minute or so later, with a glass of water.
"I'm so sorry about this."
Bill looked up.
"What?"
The cold water poured over his head.
"Fuuucccckkkk," he screamed, as he sat up quickly.
Matty laughed and left the bedroom.
"Come on light weight. We gotta get you sobered up."
Five minutes passed before Bill slowly walked out of the bedroom. He stood in the doorway.
YOU ARE READING
Tuckamore Bay
General FictionMatty Dove had 18 months to try and find a buyer for her late grandmother's lighthouse. A buyer who, she hoped, would not only buy the lighthouse, but love the village so much that they would invest time and money into saving the community. In 18 mo...
