Wednesday, March 16, 2011

Happy Father's Day

“Yup, I’m still drunk.” I could smell my breath as it met the receiver.

“Are you still going to church, though?” Jade must’ve not heard me.

“Is it even possible…to still…so drunk the morning after the night I was…drunk?”

“Maybe you should take a shower, see you soon.” Jade hung up the phone leaving me to answer my own questions.

Why wasn’t I hung over yet? Still trashed, I opened my bedroom door trying to avoid…

“Good morning Livie Wivie! How’d you sleep babe?” My mother sounds like a Muppet baby on crack right after she wakes up.

“Goodmoringandgood,” were the words that slurred from my mouth as I rushed into the bathroom. Shower first, small talk later.

The cold water shocked goosebumps to emerge from my polluted pores. Someone told me cold showers were supposed be sobering. Someone lied. I slipped out of the shower, caught myself on the towel rack, and balanced myself over the sink.

I looked up at the mirror and saw the destruction of the night before. I looked like Whitney Houstan after meeting Bobby Brown. I needed water. I drank straight from the faucet, brushed my teeth, and whirled my naked, wrecked self back to my room. After finding something decent to wear I found myself back on the bed finally feeling hung over. Regrets from the night before began to pound on my head and bind around my stomach. I could still taste the Aristocrat but now with a hint of peppermint toothpaste.

Forgetting to knock, my brother, Jeff opened my door.

“I picked this up for you, just sign it,” he dropped a card next to me and made his exit.

Thanks for being the best there is. Happy Father’s Day.”

Frick! I cringed, smashing the card against my face.

I was going to be sick. I needed to be sick. Memories of the night I lost my shoes and dignity began to flood my head with speeding images.

Oh God, I danced on a bar. Oh God, I fell off the bar.

I was still reminiscing in the back seat on our way to church. My Dad seemed blissfully unaware of my misery. My mom had accepted my, “car sick,” excuse five miles into our journey. Jeff was shaking his head trying to rebuke me with his eyes. He was shaking too much. The car was shaking way too much. The road was shaking! I smashed down the button for the window. I launched my body out just in time. My dad made a sharp left onto a street where I continued to hurl 80 proof acid from my stomach.

“Olivia, I guess you’re more than carsick huh?”My mom had been rubbing my back the entire time.

When I was all done my mom decided I was in no shape for praising the lord. My dad had already turned the car around.

Once in the house I looked out the window to see my dad hosing off the evidence my Father’s day present.

There are some things parents can’t teach you. For example, how to meet their eyes after you know you’ve embarrassed them. Or how do you prove to your parent that you love them after throwing up all over the one day that’s dedicated to show that.

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