The morning after

by joetwo

“Go on! Have another drink!” the words echoed around the pounding innards of William’s head. He managed with great difficulty to open his eyes and immediately regretted it, closing them to shield from the horror of natural light.

Flashbacks from the night before swam around his tattered mind as he tried to marshal his memories into some semblance of what had happened. ‘There was a party, a celebration. For whom? For me?’ Images from the start of the night came quickest, all his friends were there. Even some who he hadn’t seen in years. What was it for? He tried to form a notion in his brain but it was too busy feeling sorry for itself to be much good. There was nothing else for it, he had to get up. Assembling what little resolve remained in his head, William forced his eyes to open and a head heavier than he remembered to lift up and scan his surroundings.

This was his room, he was pretty sure of it. It was in a shambles, like a bomb had gone off in it, more specifically, that somebody had wheeled in an overfilled skip then set off a bomb in that, spraying its contents over the whole of his once immaculately kept bedroom. There were bottles everywhere, nearly universally empty. Amongst them was several pizza boxes filled with various forms of half eaten food, curiously enough not pizza. One look into the bathroom implied that whatever disaster had befouled his room and himself was far crueller on his innocent toilet and sink. Whatever need he had to us the facilities were staid at the mere thought of approaching that foulness.

All around him, amongst and beneath the detritus, where bodies, unconscious and in various states of undress. It was hard for William to identify them at a glance but there were extras though. He knew he didn’t have this many friends. As his tired eyes moved from person to body, his beleaguered memory released some snippet of them the night before. Dancing, talking some demented nonsense, mostly drinking, lots of drinking. He decided to risk rising a little more, cautious that the increase in altitude would have on his battered constitution. He got to his feet, legs barely able to support his weight but holding. The floor seemed uneven; William looked down to find that he was standing on someone’s hand. He quickly moved his foot but the owner of the hand didn’t notice or acknowledge. He had just about regained his balance from moving when he was nearly knocked over by a voice from behind him “Up already?” William turned; slowly, to face whomever had spoken. There on his sofa, filling up the space which he had not occupied previously was a young woman. She was unfolding herself stiffly from the over soft cushions and buttoning up her blouse. She moved far more sprightly than William thought was fair. She took a phone from her back pocket and studied it intensely. “I have to go. It’s nearly nine, my parents will be wondering where I am.” She then jumped right in front of William and planted a long, lingering kiss on his lips. It brought a whole slew of memories, all of them pleasant, back into William’s head. She put her hands through his hair, looking straight into his eyes. “I had a great night, you and your friends.” She looked around at the mess “Have to be the craziest people I have ever met.”

She nimbly stepped her way through the minefield on the floor and opened the door gently “You’re gonna need more sleep. I’ll text you later. Bye!”

The door shut behind her. William had barely said anything. He was gripped with a sadness magnified by the sense that he did not know in fact remember what he had lost.

A strong explosion of flatulence emanating from one of the bodies woke William from his aside. The regain of memory had taken on a new sense of urgency. As he willed his legs to move over to the kitchen he brutally kicked every one of the prostrate revellers that came within reach. A series of groans followed him and the combination of entreaties and unsubtle threats shouted by those first disturbed served to awaken those that were out of foot reach. William assembled what crockery had survived the night onto the kitchen top and filled the kettle. For the moment the morning after was keeping at bay. With luck he had the time to try to piece together what had been a very interesting night before.