Begin Again | on hold

thirty-nine

The sun is too bright. The duvet is too warm. The rustle of the pillowcase when Sunny moves her head is too loud. Ugh. How much did she have to drink last night? She can't remember. And why do her hands hurt so much? That she has a vague recollection of: drunken skipping; flesh meeting pavement; Viv cleaning her up. The memory is comfort and warmth and light, even as she thinks of the sting and the ache and the pain.

When Sunny peels her eyes open on the morning of her twenty-fifth birthday, her mouth is dry and her head is pounding and everything hurts. Her scuffed knees are aching and her palms are throbbing and it feels like her brain is trying to squeeze out through her eyes. It takes every ounce of effort to roll over, away from the light and towards Viv. Except Viv isn't there. Her side of the bed is empty. Through one squinted eye, Sunny can see through the crack in the door that opens onto the sitting room; she can see the shadow cast by the morning sun as Viv moves about in the kitchen.

A few minutes pass before Viv comes in with two steaming mugs and a couple of paracetamol and she gives Sunny a pity-filled head tilt as she sets one of the mugs on the bedside table and says, "Happy birthday, bambi. How did I know you'd be feeling a little worse for wear this morning?"

Sunny grunts in response. She takes the paracetamol with a swig of room temperature water from the glass by her bed, and she manages to sit up, rubbing her head with the side of her hand before she takes her first sip of coffee. It's perfect. She wants to devour the entire cup, something warm and comforting to fill her empty stomach.

"How come you don't look like you feel as rough as I feel?" she asks, her voice scratchy.

Viv chuckles behind the mug she's holding in front of her mouth, her breath rippling the steam that rises from the coffee. "The art," she says, "is to stick to one drink. I only had vodka-based cocktails all night. You, on the other hand..."

Sunny sifts through the blurry memories of last night. So many drinks. Stealing sips from her friends. Accepting whatever was pushed into her hand. "Yeah, I don't think I did that," she says. Viv's grinning.

"No, bambi," she says, her arm sliding around Sunny's shoulders. "No, you didn't. But it's okay – we've got all day to hang out and recover and celebrate how ancient you are now."

Twenty-five. Sunny can't believe it. A month ago – to her, at least – she was a single twenty-three-year-old living in a cramped flat with her friend. Now, somehow, she's twenty-fucking-five and she has a girlfriend and a beautiful new home, and a cat who makes herself known with a long meow as she jumps onto the bed and stretches. Sunny buries her fingers in Britney's soft fur, scratching between her ears and under her chin until she's purring louder than a truck on the motorway.

"So," Viv says, sipping her coffee, "seeing as you're a bit delicate this morning, how about I run you a bubble bath so you can recover before presents?"

"Presents?" Sunny tears her eyes from her mug to her girlfriend, who laughs.

"Yes," Viv says, light dancing in her irises. "It's your birthday, Sunny. You think I wouldn't get you presents?" She puts her hand over Sunny's. "I know the last month has been strange, but you're still my girlfriend. You're still the woman I've loved for the last year, which means I get to shower you in adoration on your twenty-fifth birthday."

Sunny keeps having to remind herself that Viv knows her so much better, so much more intimately, than she realises or remembers. "Did you get presents before the whole, you know ... situation?" she asks, impressed with how on top of things Viv must be to have bought birthday presents a whole month in advance, but Viv shakes her head.

"No, I'm not that organised," she says. "I know this isn't a normal birthday. I know it's weird for you." Her fingers curl around Sunny's hand. She lifts it to her mouth, pressing her lips to the backs of Sunny's fingers. It tickles. Sunny likes the sensation, the heat of Viv's coffee-warm lips, Viv's nose pressing into the dent between her knuckles. "I put together a few things that I thought might help."