AM, PM

chapter 5

Aiden

Last night was absolutely horrible. Well, considering the unbelievable headache I have now waking up. I must have drunk a lot taking into consideration the fact that I don't remember most of what happened. Everything after helping Ariel get up from the ground wasted is a blur. She must have gotten me to drink instead of letting me help her out.

 That sneaky princess.

"Aiden!"

I turn around moaning and pressing my pillow on my ears."God, Mom, why are you shouting?"

She walks into my room with her lips slowly forming a grin. I try to get myself to sit on my bed.  My entire body protests to the action.

"Aiden, you didn’t drink last night, did you?”  

She knows.

"Pfft, I don't drink mother, I just have a—um, yeah.”

She walks closer, nose crinkling. “So if I DON’T SHOUT, your mind is okay?”

I cringe, “okay! I might have.”

"You think?"

"I don't remember drinking. Judging from my state of being, I probably did."

"Well then fix that shambolic teenage state by hurrying up. You're going to be late for school. Don't forget ibuprofens and water.”

I smile. "You know what?"

She looks at me waiting for my answer.

"Come and give me a hug."

"You're definitely hung-over."

"No, come on," I say spreading my arms out to her. She starts leaving when I grab her arm and pull her on my bed.

"Oh, so you're rejecting your hung-over son's hug. That's how you want to play," I say tickling her.

She laughs and screams. I finally let her go with her hair messy.

"God," she starts saying laughing. "You are worse than your father." She leaves my room still chuckling and fixing her hair.

The advantages of having an Anna Ozim as a mother in your life are an important deal.

I hear her voice come from downstairs telling my dad how 'hilariously drunk' I am as they both laugh. I think I should be offended but I'm just happy they're not mad at me. Other parents might have shouted and screamed at me, I’m grateful that isn’t the case with them.

Frankly, I am not sure if I even drank. Aren't you only supposed to forget the parts when you actually were wasted? I don't even remember thinking about drinking.

I dress up quickly and descend the stairs. I pour myself a coffee. My mom, as usual, gives me a kiss goodbye and leaves. On the contrary, I know that my father being seated at the table isn't merely by chance or because he's tired. He wants to talk to me. I know him. Knowing his nature, he isn’t about to get mad at me or ground me, but he definitely has something to say. I sit in front of him at the table.

"I’m really sorry, Dad."

"You don't need to be," he says his head still down, looking at his hands around his mug. "As long as you don't drink and drive, you don't hurt anyone or let yourself get hurt, or you don't spend crazy amounts of money on alcohol, I'm good with you having a good time. Next time, just make sure you aren't hung-over for a school day, please."

"You know that you are really the best." He brings his head up and looks at me. He's smiling. "I didn't want to drink at all, I don't even remember drinking. I'm just guessing I did, considering the lights feel like miniature sized suns with the same power and that every sound feels like it's coming through a megaphone."