The Yellow Umbrella

Chapter Eleven: Blackout Bra

The night of Grayson's eighteenth birthday, I learned alcohol was not my friend. 

Scratch friend, it was an enemy.

The morning after the party, I also learned what hell truly felt like: a hangover.

Waking up, a sour taste coated my mouth and a sick feeling squirmed in the pit of my stomach. Somehow, I actually climbed on top of the bunk bed. If sober Jake couldn't get on top, how did drunk Jake do it? My amazement didn't last long when I realized I had no idea how I was gonna get down.

I looked down, the floor was far. The dizzy feeling in my stomach worsened when I moved. It traveled to my head, making the room feel as if it were spinning. My mouth filled with saliva and I knew what was coming. Panicking, I quickly glanced around me to see what I could puke in. I was about to make a kangaroo pouch with my shirt when a yellow plastic bag with a sticky note caught my eye.

I didn't even have a moment to think, my stomach had a mind of its own. 

Without even managing to open the bag, I hurled on top of the bag.

I closed my eyes and leaned against the wall. I couldn't look at my own puke, it was like the equivalent of looking at your own dump after crapping. But the note, I wanted to read the note.

Without opening my eyes, I felt around for the note and grabbed a fistful of mustard colored vomit. I felt my stomach lurch.

"Don't puke again, please don't puke." I whispered to myself.

The smell of vomit was overwhelming, my stomach didn't listen and emptied itself on my lap.

"God why!" I sighed.

Hanging on the wall across from me, I looked at myself in the mirror and made a mental note to never drink again. My lap felt wet and warm in all the worst ways. I needed to change. 

But my clothes were still packed away in my backpack on top of the dresser. How was I going to find a change of clothes without trailing vomit? Grayson's mom would kill us. I looked at my backpack again,  a black bra resting beside it.

My stomach dropped. I was not wearing pants.

The door busted open with a grinning Grayson, "Wakey, wakey Jakey!"

He was dressed, showered, and ready to tackle the day.

He took one look at me and sighed, "You puked again? I thought we emptied you out last night."

I pointed at the bra, "Gray, what happened last night?"

He picked up the bra and laughed, "A lot. Try to remember before she gets out of the shower."

She?

Grayson left, closing the door behind him, leaving me alone with my panicked thoughts. I closed my eyes and tried to replay the night before.

My first dance with alcohol was not a box step, but a tango.

Music blared throughout the house, the walls vibrating with the beat. It felt like the house was alive, pumping energy into the air. Staring at myself in the bathroom mirror, I smiled. Grayson had gelled my hair and styled it, but I danced so hard it was all tousled and messy. Taking off my navy flannel, I checked the sweat stains peeking from the back of my black t-shirt.

I must have smelled like a rotting anus. 

Opening the medicine cabinet, I found an expired can of air freshener and gave myself a little spritz. The party was raging on from the other side of the door. 

I checked my phone. No texts from Mia.

I hopped up on the counter and glanced out the window. The moon was full, a hand full of stars trickled across the voidless sky. I rested my flushed face against the coolness of the mirror and closed my eyes.