Cupcakes at Midnight

Chapter 8

I wake up with the worst hangover I can remember having. My temples are throbbing and opening my eyes feels like a superhuman feat... one that I can't perform.

Ivy walks in, carefully placing a cool washcloth over my eyes. Or what I hope is a washcloth. "I have Pedialyte and Aspirin. What's your hangover cure, McDonalds? Or?"

I try to open my eyes and take the medicine. I fail halfway, managing one eye. "McDonalds," I croak. "Extra hashbrowns and a giant coffee, please." I dump a few pills into my hand and thank Ivy for already removing the cap on the drink.

"I'll be right back."

It feels like hours before she's back, but finally, I can smell the fried goodness and I know she's in the room. My eyes are still closed as she waves the familiar brown bag in front of my face.

"You don't have to get out of bed, but you have to sit up. Too much of a choking risk to eat lying down."

She's going to be a great mom someday. The thought makes me tear up and I start crying without fully realizing it. Maybe I won't ever get that chance. That would be okay, I made peace with it long ago, but it would be sad.

I use the washcloth over my eyes to wipe them as I try to sit up. I can't help but laugh at my own idiocy and inability to even be a normal human, but then that makes the pounding in my head intensify.

I'm never drinking again.

She helps me up, then fluffs some pillows behind me.

"Here, take a sip," Ivy says, holding a straw at my lips. "Pink Gatorade. We'll advance to coffee next. You know, I almost feel bad..."

"How are you not in bed with me, in terrible shape like I am?" My voice sounds like I've been gargling with glass, which might have been a less painful option.

"Well first of all, I don't get hangovers. Second, I hydrate like a mofo."

"Hold on, you don't get hangovers?"

Ivy shrugs and reaches into the McDonald's bag. She pulls out a sleeve of hashbrowns and I want to marry her.

"My hero."

She laughs. "I don't know if you mean me or the carbs, but I'll take it either way. Finish this and I've got a sausage mcmuffin waiting in the wings, along with that extra hashbrown you asked for."

Ivy pulls a breakfast sandwich from the bag and I consider asking her to keep the noise down with the wrapper, but I realize she's not being that loud, I'm simply that bitchy right now. She takes a bite and closes her eyes.

"I don't get this often, but when I do, it's like my childhood all in one greasy mess."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She smiles. "We used to get McDonald's as a treat on Sunday mornings, after church."

We let the room stay silent for a few minutes, just the rustle of the paper bag and wrappers as we devour our food. The salt makes me so thirsty, and the caffeine boost helps my head to stop aching as much. Before too long, I'm almost alive and awake.

Cat jumps onto the bed and nuzzles me, reminding me that everything is going to be okay.

"You need to go?"

"Nope, I'm here as long as you need me," Ivy says.

"I think I'll be okay. I need to do some laundry, get some errands done. Adult shit."

"Annoying," she practically sings. "Can't we just Netflix and chill all day?"

I laugh. "Do you even know what that means?"