Ways to Cope (Short Stories)

First Page

 My eyes were crusty with sleep, and my hair was wild and out of control. The sequinned dress I'd worn last night was smelly and crumpled and disgusting. My cheeks burned with my walk of shame. The Uber had dropped me off in front of my little one-story house, and I walked past the yellowed lawn slowly, making sure not to walk too fast and aggravate my hangover headache.

I looked up and saw another woman staggering up her driveway as well. She had more casual clothes on. Jeans and a nice top. Her taxi drove the opposite way of my Uber and she smiled at me weakly.

"Morning," I said, touching my sore throat tenderly.

She nodded. Her lipstick was smeared all over her face. She must have been devoured.

"Rough night?" I asked. She laughed. "Yeah me too," I said. "How was he?"

She laughed again. "Horrible. Let's just say we definitely won't be getting remarried."

I shook my head and clutched my bag as if it could take away the throbbing in my skull. "Wow. You poor thing."

"How was yours?"

I gave her a wide smile with full teeth. "She was fucking fantastic." The woman stopped and folded her hands, looking interested. "She was so beautiful and soft. She was such a graceful dancer. And those hips, girl, I'm telling you..."

The other woman nodded. "Congratulations sweetie."

"Was he your ex-husband?" I asked.

"Yes."

"What happened?"

"Oh, I burnt the house down." My eyes widened. "No, not this one. I just left a candle out one night. And accidentally bought very flammable curtains." We laughed, and it was funnier because it wasn't supposed to be.

We laughed way longer than we should have. But when we died down, I sighed and asked, "Are you hungover too?"

She nodded. "Tequila. Too much of it. Entirely too much."

I grinned in agreement.

"You?"

"Oh yeah. Vodka. From Ukraine. Cheap, cheap stuff that she brought from overseas for a taste of home. We got carried away," I snickered. Then I shuffled around and glanced at my feet. They were bare and I held my heels in my hand.

"I'll let you go," she said, straightening her top and walking to the door. We both reached our locks at the same time, and looked at each other from across our two porches, before our doors swung open and we slipped inside.