Hungover -Adrienne

Sandy woke up with her boots on and the floor lamp blazing in the corner.

“Oh God, what time is it?” she asked aloud while wiping the drool off her cheek and pulling a stray hair out of her mouth. She realized she was alone as she slid off the couch and onto the floor with a thud. She fished her phone out of the purse that was still strapped across her body. “Oh great,” Sandy thought to herself, “who did I call this time…?” It was still dark outside and her neighbors were sure to be angry she was causing such a racket upstairs on a weeknight. She laughed to herself and did a little jig in her untied shoes.

“Am I still drunk?” she asked herself while looking in the mirror. Pulling her eyelids open she could see that her eyes were slightly bloodshot and smudged with traces of makeup. When she was done making faces she found her way to the kitchen. She pulled a dirty frying pan out the sink and placed it on the stove. In the refrigerator there was only her roommate’s food, but he practically lived at his rich boyfriend’s these days so Sandy didn’t think he’d mind if she took a few eggs.

As the eggs crackled in the pan, Sandy realized red pepper flakes would be the perfect garnish. She knew they had them, because she’d attempted the ‘Master Cleanse’ a few months ago with no success. The small container was on the top shelf and Sandy strained to reach. “Stupid Danny. He’s always doing this to me!” she said through clenched teeth. As Sandy shifted all her weight to one tip-toe, she suddenly lost her balance and tripped backwards over her boot laces. She braced herself for the fall and was relieved that it didn’t hurt a bit.

Opening her eyes the ceiling came into a view and the room was spinning. “God, I really am drunk,” she said. Black smoke billowed towards her, “Shit the eggs!” Sandy attempted to move her feet and realized they were not touching the ground. As she flailed her body about in confusion she elbowed cabinets, bashed her knee on the ceiling and hit her head on the ground. Even if her skirt hadn’t been around her ears she still wouldn’t have been able to see where she was going with all the smoke. The fire alarm started screeching and she found the pan of charred eggs just in time to throw it back into the sink with a sizzle and fling open the window for some fresh air.

Somehow her feet were back on the ground but Sandy was not so sure she could trust them to stay there. The fire alarm stopped, but it was too late. “Open up!” the landlord bellowed from the hallway. Petrified, Sandy thought she wasn’t going to be able to move, or not move. “I know you’re in there!” he continued banging on the door. As if she were taking a sobriety test, Sandy slowly put one foot in front of the other. When Mr. Elmjouie threatened to call the police Sandy quickened her pace and opened the door before she could think.

“Smoking in the apartment again!” Mr. Elmjouie said with an accusatory finger pointed in Sandy’s face. Backing away from her landlord, Sandy felt her heels start to lift off the ground. Mr. Elmjouie noticed her discomfort and took a step backwards into the hallway. “I can’t let this party girl get the best of my temper,” he thought to himself. Meanwhile Sandy attempted to cling to the floor with the tip of her toes. Every second she lifted a little higher, soon her feet would leave the floor and she knew she wouldn’t be able to control herself.  “If you think…” Mr. Elmjouie began again, but his jaw dropped and a much more meek finger followed her as she steadily rose up and up until she was practically glued to the ceiling. “I’m really sorry sir. As you can see I’m a little preoccupied at the moment. I wasn’t smoking. I burnt some food, there was no fire. I’ll try to be more quiet” Sandy said while trying to readjust her skirt for modesty. Mr. Elmjouie blinked twice slowly and backed away in a daze. “Just don’t let it happen again,” he said as if reading from a script, closing the door quickly behind him.

As the sound of Mr. Elmjouie’s footsteps retreated, Sandy thought to herself, “Great, now I’m going to have to move again.” Then it occurred to her, “What am I thinking? I can’t even figure out how to move my own body!” Pushing away from the ceiling she nearly reached the floor but as she extended her arms for it, she lost her balance and spun towards a wall. She kicked off of it with her boots and rocketed across the apartment like a swimmer, stopping just before hitting the opposing wall headlong. Using her arms she realized she could control her course. When she kicked her legs she could go faster. She practiced as quietly as she could but later she would have a hard time explaining the footprints on the walls to her roommate.

She was exhausted, trying to figure out how to fly was a full body workout. It took her a few attempts but she finally grabbed her phone from the floor. Dialing was a feat of coordination but finally the call went through. Her mother answered groggily on the other end. “Mom! I’m levitating!” Sandy said as she clung to her bed frame bobbing like a buoy above the mattress. The line was silent. “Mom, are you there? I’m freaking out!”

With a heavy sigh her mother said, “Sandra, are you on drugs?”

“No, Mom! I mean, I was a little drunk earlier, but I’m not anymore. This is serious. I don’t know what to do.” She began tearing up a little as it really sunk in.

“Listen, Sandra, drink some water and lay down. I have work tomorrow. I don’t have time for this.”

Before Sandy could explain, her mother had hung up. “This is so typical,” she thought to herself. As she struggled to anchor herself and hold back, Sandy remembered a childhood dream she’d all but forgotten. “Look at me Ma! Look at me!” she said as she hovered around the kitchen. “Not, now Sandra. I’m fixing dinner. Hand me that pepper and go play outside.”

Sandy woke up with her boots on and the floor lamp blazing in the corner.