EVERYTHING MATTERS

A message from reality

Ailly's phone has been ringing for a while now, filling her small apartment with the unpleasant sound that bounces off the narrow walls. Her hand, searching for the phone, wanders on the small bedside table, trying to silence it in the darkness as she closes her eyes to shield herself from the bright screen. Random taps, but her phone isn't within reach on the nightstand. Slowly opening her eyes, she tries to locate her darn phone in the semi-darkness.

As she tries to get up, her head threatens to explode, leaving a pounding sensation in her skull. She closes her eyes for a moment, trying to focus to avoid dwelling on the throbbing pain from her migraine. At the same time, in her attempt to move, she discovers the presence of a sleeping person beside her.

The belated realization of the presence of a stranger in her bed leaves her perplexed. Her brain quickly activates, unwinding a thread of anxious thoughts about the identity of this person. Not daring to turn around for fear of the shock, she breathes a sudden sigh of relief upon realizing that she's dressed, dispelling fears of incidents during the night. However, amnesia persists about the bedmate. Who did she come home with, and who did she sleep with? Damn.

The insistent voice of the alarm persists as Ailly remains motionless, her gaze desperately seeking an answer.

"Hmm... Damn it, Ailly, turn off your damn alarm," a voice interrupts her musings. She widens her eyes, sitting up in bed, discovering a familiar figure with her back turned. Clad in the same clothes as the day before, adorned with a few fluorescent streaks in her hair, the person turns around.

"Jennie?"

Yeah, her best friend is occupying the spot next to her. What is she doing here? Did she spend the night? Questions accumulate in Ailly's mind, accentuating her unexpectedly severe hangover. She sits on her bed, enduring the persistent ringing of her phone, which had been nestled in her pocket during this time.

Turning off her alarm clock, marking 4:30 in the morning, Ailly closes her eyes, attempting to piece together the fragments of the previous night.

"How did we get home yesterday?" The question emerges, singular in the surrounding confusion.

"Jacques... you... drunk, me, stayed here..." Jennie articulates, lacking coherence in her words. Understanding dawns: alcohol must have played its part, leading them to this situation. Ailly sighs, accustomed to this ritual when Jennie prefers to stay at her place after a wild night, Jacques picking them up in the morning as if nothing happened.

Yet, this morning, a void seems to have hollowed out her memory, blurring the thread of the previous night.

"Oh damn... I don't remember anything." Ailly gets up, trying to alleviate the unbearable headache. Jennie, emerging from her sleep, follows suit.

Sitting at the small kitchen chair, Ailly observes the effervescence of the water in the glass where she added medication. Lying down, her eyes fixed on the swirling water, she tries to piece together the recent past. Flashes of the party emerge, the fluorescent lights illuminating the mansion, the deafening music, the alcohol flowing down her throat – scattered memories. Arriving with Noah, an argument with Matt near the campfire by the pool, then... the void. Why didn't she go home with Noah?

Looking at her phone now, missed calls from Jennie and Noah, and an enigmatic message catches her attention: "This time, it's you who started it, I won't let you go."

"Thanks..." Jennie, half awake, takes the medicine and sits next to Ailly, momentarily restoring clarity to her thoughts. The mystery persists.

Getting up, Ailly turns to Jennie. "Do you remember what happened yesterday?"

"Yeah, it was a total blast of a party." Jennie places the glass on the small table, still groggy from sleep.

"No, I mean... do you know what happened between me and... Matt?" The question hangs a tension in the air, a sense of unease.

"Hmm, I think as usual, you guys had a fight." Jennie returns to bed, leaving Ailly perplexed. A fight with Matt, sure, but something in her gut suggests there's more. Why this cryptic message? Why this sense of emptiness in her memory?

"Oh, wait... I remember you told me you did something stupid, or maybe it has nothing to do with Matt." Jennie, sitting on the bed, catches Ailly's attention, who furrows her brows as she listens. Something stupid? What could she have done? Wasn't she sober enough to remember the events of the night?

"If you were." Jennie throws in.

Damn it all.

Drinking alcohol is never, and I mean never, beneficial for her.