Page 75 of Stanton Unconditional

“Ha, I knew you liked him.” She laughs.

I roll my eyes. “Shut the hell up and buy me a drink, bitch.”

The day after is always hell. Why do I do this to myself? I have to wash clothes and grocery shop…hungover. Again. It would be such a great society if we just popped a pill to eat and threw our clothes out after we wore them once, or better yet went naked. No grocery shopping, no cooking, no washing, no folding or ironing…the very bane of my existence. I hate housework with a passion. I wish I was one of those Martha Stewart types who gets off on it. I just don’t like it. I like my house clean but, boy, it shits me doing it every damn spare minute I have. Imagine having messy kids living with me. I shiver at the thought.

I’m in my local grocery store, trudging up the aisles with my cart and my guard is at the front drinking his coffee. The aroma of the deli is rolling my nauseated stomach. Who in the hell eats that like vomit smelling cheese? I rub my face and try to stop myself from dry-retching, this is totally shit. I’m not drinking again. I start to perspire as I fight the wave of nausea. Kill me now. I pull out my phone and text Abbie.

Call me an ambulance.

She immediately texts back.

Can’t.

I’m in the mortuary.

Dead.

An hour later I am at home unpacking my groceries when my phone rings. I got one less problem without you! I got one less problem without you! Rihanna’s ‘Diamonds’ is out and ‘Problem’ by Ariana Grande’s is in. The words to this song somehow ring true in my life…wonder why?

I used to cry when my phone would ring ‘Diamonds’ and now when I hear those words I smile.

“Hello.”

“Hi Tash.”

“Oh, hi Mum.”

“Love, can you come with me to the hospital? Something is up with Gran.”

I frown and immediately stop what I am doing. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, she just rang me and said she needed to go to the hospital and could we take her.”

“Oh…okay.” I answer wide-eyed. “I’ll get over to Didge’s house and you pick me up from there.” I start to panic and run around frantically to try and find my keys in amongst the shopping bags on the counter. Why do I only lose my damn keys when I’m in a hurry? I quickly put away the meat and milk and head to the car.

Fifteen minutes later, Bridget and I stand out the front of her house as we wait for Mum to pick us up.

“So, then what did she say?” Bridget frowns.

I hunch my shoulders. “I don’t know. Just that. Gran needed to go to the hospital, and she thought we should come.”

“Yes. But what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know. For the tenth time!” I scream. Honestly, I’m too sick for this shit.

“Calm down, you crazy bitch,” Bridget snaps.

“You know what, when we get to the hospital, book me in. I’m dying from alcohol poisoning and it’s your bloody fault. Stop making me drink so much!”

She laughs as she looks at me. “You do look like shit actually, come to think of it.”

I fake a smile at her as the car pulls up and we pile into the back seat. Gran is seated in the front seat and smiling calmly.

I lean over her seat from the back and put my arms around her neck. “What’s wrong, Gran?” I ask. “Are you ok?”

She nods and puts her two hands over my two hands around her neck. “Darling, yes, I have just been having these terrible stomach pains for a couple of days.”

Bridget screws up her face to me in question.