The Girl in The Green Scarf

T w e n t y - f i v e

C H A P T E R

25

"We don't regret the things we do as much as the things we don't."

―Anonymous.

- S e b a s t i a n -

Mornings that follow big events are a fearful jumbled sport. One that I thought I was getting better at with time. Alas when I open my eyes the day after Helena's going away party I realize there is no getting better at all.

I find myself sprawled across the living room's carpet, barefooted, shirtless and dripping water - all of which I don't recall happening; the last thing I remember is accompanying Helena to her plane. The breath-held dimness of the afternoon is not yet here, instead the room is so brightly lit that I promptly have to snap my eyes shut.

"Look who's up," Freddie says, and if he screamed, it probably wouldn't have hurt worse.

"Voice... head... be quiet... the light... hurts..." Groaning, I say incoherent words, unable to muster enough energy to makeup a meaningful sentence.

"You're a wreck, Bash," he says, chomping down on something. It sounds like nails and rocks, being mixed in a blender on full speed.

"I warned you not to have that many shots." Alex's voice reaches me from somewhere behind me.

"Pot calling the kettle black," I say my voice slurring.

Through half-lidded eyes I see him jut his chin and say all high-and-mighty, "I drank, I didn't get drunk."

"How are you guys even up?" I mutter and the mere act of speaking makes my head throb with pain.

"Freddy is immune to booze, Chace and Cordelia were worse than you are until they had Helena's magical drink for hangovers. As for Lila, she's still asleep."

"Voice..." I groan again, throwing my arm over to cover my ear. Everything is just too loud and bright.

Chace jumps over the coach next to my head and it feels like the whole room rattles. "Come on sleazy, I want you to show me around before our flight. I wanna say I actually checked out a sleeping beauty."

I answer in a series of grunts and groans, squeezing my eyes so hard perhaps the drilling agony would fade away.

"He needs some of the magical drink, ASAP," he says.

"He'll be better after a cup of coffee. Actually, three," Alex says, tossing a pair of shades beside me.

Cracking my eyes slightly open, I reach for the sunglasses and slip them on. Painstakingly I sit up and when a wave of nausea washes over me, I contemplate lying back down but I know I really need those three cups of coffee.

"Do you need help Grandma?" Freddie asks derisively.

I don't want to dignify his comment by replying so I just block him out as I prop myself up using the couch's arm rest and stagger to the kitchen.

The living room's back door is widely open and out back I see the giggling duo - not so giggly anymore -, clearing cans and punch cups out of the pool and off the lawn. Large black plastic bags rest on the patio, some tied and others overflowing with trash. One of the girls drags a bag, adding it to the rest of the collection. She stops; a frown etched on her face and presses two fingers to her temple, squeezing her eyes close. I know exactly what she's thinking: never again. And I want to tell her that's what we all say.

"Bonjour, Monsieur Sebastian," Guy says vivaciously and I grit my teeth.

"Coffee..." the two-syllable word is an excruciating effort.