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I get a couple of ibuprofens
from Aunt Cora, go looking
for something to wash them
down with. Score! Minibar.
Pricey water, soda, and yes,
liquor. Very pricey liquor.
But hey, the credit card
is buying, right? Three-dollar
Coke. Six-dollar miniature bottle
of Dewar’s. Never tried scotch
before. Ugh. Not great. But too
late to turn back now. Nine
dollars’ worth of refreshment
later, I lie down on the bed.
The headache fades and I close
my eyes to rest up before dinner.
NEXT THING I KNOW
A thumping brings me around.
No, not thumping. Knocking. Loudly.
On the door. I sit up, too quickly.
My head feels like a merry-go-round,
and I think maybe I have to throw up.
“Who is it? Hang on, I’m coming.”
It’s me. Aunt Cora, of course.
Are you about ready? Hurry up.
I’ll wait for you in the lobby.
Ready? What? I glance at the clock.
Almost five. How long did I sleep?
Bathroom. Quick. To throw up or not
to throw up? I give it the old college
