Falling Apart, Barely Breathing

Chapter 5: Thanks For The Memories

Chapter 5: Thanks for the Memories

When Meredith wakes up she can hardly see before she blinks at least seven times and she struggles to free herself from the swaddle of her blankets that have all been bunched tightly up against her body like a cacoon.

She thinks nothing of it before making a beeline to the bathroom to throw up again as she looks at herself in the mirror at her body barely supporting herself still in yesterday's clothes as she sighs and she pads her way downstairs to see her potted plant sitting sideways on the kitchen counter slightly to the left of where she remembered she'd planted it just a few mornings ago.

Meredith makes her way over to to the counter where she finds a scrawled note reading

"Meredith, take these two aspirins along with the whole glass of water before going to work in the morning. Your key is not stolen, it was borrowed so that the door could be locked behind you on your way in last night. You'll get it back soon. Thanks for the Memories. Best Wishes."

Meredith reads the note over at least six or seven times before realizing that it had no name affixed to the bottom of it nor any signatures or particular markings left over on the reverse of it either.

Whoever the mystery man who had helped her settle in last night was, well she wishes she could remember an ounce of it because obviously he would have been a keeper if she hadn't been blackout drunk on him because clearly she could see that he was the definition of a gentleman.

She squints so she can see the words that were hidden by a strikethrough as and she smiles to herself wondering what the hell "thanks for the memories" could even possibly mean, and that if it were possible that they were good memories anyways why would the mystery man of Seattle not want her to know in return these nice memories of her?

Because this mystery man clearly knew her first name and just how to spell it so she had to have had some special sort of bonding time with him last night at the bar right?

She couldn't remember anything past her first tequila shooter from the night before now and she's not even sure that she hadn't slept with anyone either.

She decides that she didn't think that she did sleep with anyone at all the night before because she was still perfectly dressed in her yesterday clothes when she had woken up this morning and she still had on the same bra and underwear as she had been wearing since she had put on a day ago.

And if she had slept with someone the night before now then she'd probably have taken her pants off at some point and she wouldn't have wanted to wear the exact same thing tucked into bed like she was if she'd had already had sex and she was getting dressed up for bed after she'd had all that tequila. She decides that if she was too drunk to remember she was too drunk to put on the same panties, pants, and her bra and to have snapped her bra shut before she put on that same sweater again.

She's tortured now even more dark and twisty than usual because for Meredith Grey, the most queen of the mysteries she finds that the not knowing is honestly and truly the worst feeling in the world.

Despite this, Meredith follows the instructions and she puts the note into her pocket before any of her best intern friends could find out because heaven knows now that the last thing she needed or wanted would be for rumors to be flying that she had a secret lover somewhere out there in Seattle who knew where they all lived and who still had a key to theirs and her mother's old house.

She didn't want to scare them off from seeing her as a person rather than as a serious whore so she shrugs it all off saying to herself that this isn't exactly her first night not knowing who what when where she was doing the night before.