Hungover

Oh David

You would be laughing at me right now.
If you were here.

It is 6.15am, your side of the bed is still empty and I have the hangover from hell.
And I now know what hell actually feels like.

Rolling over to kiss you good morning only to touch cold sheets.  That is hell.
Calling your name and getting no answer. That is hell.
Every time the phone rings and it isn't you...hell.

Sue did come over last night, not long after what is becoming the nightly ritual of throwing the uneaten plate of dinner from the night before, away and replacing it with another, carefully plastic wrapped plate of food that I fear will also go uneaten.

She took one look at me and the kitchen with the dishes piled up on the sink and then hauled the children from their rooms and set them to work.

Then she marched me up to our room and told me to shower and change into something fresh.
It was then I realised that I hadn't showered since Tuesday.  The day you didn't come home.

I wanted to, really, but I was terrified that even those few moments away from the phone and I would miss your call.
So I didn't.

The shower felt good, and I washed my horrible hair and dug out some clothes.  Jeans, and one of your t-shirts.  Clean, but I was sure I could smell you on it as I pulled it over my head.


As I looked in the mirror, all I could see were the dark circles under my eyes, and I thought about some makeup, but it was only Sue, and it was all too hard.

She handed me a glass of red wine as I walked into the living room, and sat me down on the couch.
On the coffee table, there was food, cheese, crackers, that sort of thing, but my stomach just churned at the thought of food.

I am not sure I have really even eaten since ..
What do I say here?  Since you left? Didn't come home? Disappeared?

Oh Fuck I feel vile.
One glass became two, became another bottle.
And another and possibly a third. Not sure.  Maybe I need to count the empties.

And we talked, or maybe I did.  I don't know.
I know I cried.  And I may have got angry.

I think I might have smashed a glass.  Things got a little blurry.

But I remember at one point, insisting on putting on Mama Mia.  "because it makes me laugh"
We used to joke about that terrible movie.
"No more fucking Abba" you would say and you would laugh.

But last night it just made me cry. God I am sick of crying.

Sue is still asleep on the couch.  I am not sure if she drank as much as me, but she stayed to look after me.
I love her for that.

Now I am going to find something for this headache, and make coffee.

No point waiting for you to make it.

You are not here