Take care of her in the morning

I’m way too tired. So tired that I forget about my erection. I’ll wake up first then I’ll wake her with my loving tongue. But first sleep.

A twisting knife in my skull wakes me. Keeps me awake. Doesn’t let me focus on anything but the pain in my head. I crack my eyes. Blazing sunshine pours through the slits in the shades. Phoebe sleeps next to me.

I need to get some Tylenol. I swivel my legs off the bed. Setting my feet on the cold unleashes my nausea. The room spins. Fuck. I need to puke.

I stumble out the room. The bathroom door is closed. I flee to the back door. My momentum carries me across the patio. I spray vomit on the warm embers of our campfire.

I’m too old to drink that much.

The puking cures the nausea, but not the headache. I pick myself up. Using my arm to shade my eyes, I walk back to the house.

Where’s the Tylenol? Ibuprofen? Morphine? Anything to get rid of this pounding in my head. I know there’s some in my bag, but Monica and Joey are probably still in there. There’s probably some in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom.

The bathroom door is still closed. I walk up and politely knock on it. No answer. I eyes closed I lean my face against the door. I hear the spray of the shower.

Now I have a decision: do I walk into the bathroom while someone is taking a shower, or do I walk into the bedroom where my wife and friend are sleeping together?