#4 Trash your room in a drunken rage.
#5 Leave no water by the bed when you know you’re gonna wake up with a hangover from hell and your mouth tasting like ass.
I feel like crap, I look like crap, and according to the alarm that’s upside down in the middle of the floor amidst the war zone that is now my bedroom, it’s 2:10 pm. I have five minutes to get to my appointment, collect my meds and check in with the doctors.
CRAP!
I leave the house looking like a homeless person. I’ve brushed my teeth and changed my clothes, and that’s about it. I was obviously still drunk when I did, because I thought I looked okay until some kid in the reception area of the doctor’s office told me I’d put my shirt on inside out. Getting schooled by a six-year-old about how to dress was not the highlight of my day. Neither was Dr. Hardy’s reaction when she smelled the alcohol on my breath, and then found out I’d been taking my dad’s Codeine pills to try stop my headaches. There was a point when I thought that maybe she wouldn’t let me leave again. She looked a lot less than happy with me.
After scheduling my physiotherapy appointments for my wrist and booking in to see the brain doc, I’m on my way over to Jackson’s. I’m driving in silence, since my head still feels like it’s in a damn vice, when my mom’s call comes through. I fully intended to ignore it until the pent-up anger surfaced and it was all I could do to pull over and not hit answer and immediately start shouting at her.
“Yeah?” I know it's not the politest way to answer a call, but she’s lucky I’m not answering with a string of cusses.
“Oh, thank heavens! I’ve been calling the house all morning and your cell has been diverting me straight to your voice mail.”
“What do you want, Mom?”
“To know how you are. Susan called me this morning and told me that Blair had gone home last night in tears after telling you about me.” Her voice is quiet, like she’s whispering.
“Where are you, what’s with the hushed tone?”
“You know where I am—at the hospital. I’ve just left your dad's room; I didn’t want him hearing our conversation.”
I’m not sure why, but her words seem to be exactly the wrong ones at the wrong time. “Who gives a shit if he hears you! It should be me that you're worried about, not that asshole hearing you tell me that I’m not your goddamn son! Jeez, you’re unbelievable.”
“Calm down, Ethan. Let me explain. Please?”
“What can you possibly have to explain? Don’t you think you’ve done enough? No, wait, that’s wrong. You haven’t done enough. You have never done enough when it comes to me!” The venom behind my words is all too evident, and I hear her gasp at my outburst.
“I’m coming home,” she tells me. “We need to talk and not over the phone. I’ll catch a flight later today.”
“Do whatever the hell you want, Moira!” I know I'm an ass when I call her by her name, but I don’t care. I want her to hurt. She deserves to feel as shitty as I do.
I pop a few of the prescription pills I collected from the pharmacy and pour myself a huge glass of water. I drove around in a hate-fueled daze for a while after hanging up on my mom. I must have been on autopilot because I ended up back home, only I have no real idea of what route I took to get here. The message on the back of the pill carton said not to operate heavy machinery, and that the pills might make me drowsy. I don’t want to be trapped in my own warped headspace, so I decide to call Jackson to come hang out. I normally like my own company, but today, not so much. It takes fifteen minutes before he’s waltzing through the door announcing that we should get some practice in. Apparently Kickstart has been booked to play some club in town after graduation. I groan at the thought.
“Dude, you look like I just ran over your dog. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have a dog.”
“It’s just a saying, jackass. Seriously though, what’s up?”
“Honestly bro, you don’t even want to know.”
He drops down into the seat next to me and places his guitar at his feet. He sits back and removes his cap, ruffling up his already messy blond hair and sighs. “Take it Blair didn’t react well to the rumor news huh?”
I let out a small laugh. “If only that were it.” I drain the glass of water in one long gulp and wipe my mouth on the back of my hand. “She told me that my mom’s not actually my mom.” I watch as the confusion slides across his face, and his eyes squint.
“What do you mean she’s not your mom?”
“Exactly how it sounds, man. Mother Dearest isn’t my biological mom.”
He rubs the back of his neck, still looking utterly baffled.