The hangover and the aftermath

"Well I think it's safe to say that we rang the New Year in good and proper last night," I winced as we threw out the last of the trash bags. After two straight hours of cleaning, Laney's house was back to normal.

"Please, stop yelling," Drew groaned as he collapsed onto the couch.

The three of us were all terribly hung over, but I was arguably the most fucked up, considering how much I drank and how unused to it I was. Even after countless glasses of water and an aspirin every half hour, my head was still pounding and my stomach was still tying itself in knots.

Laney noticed my battered condition and announced, "That's it. Hangover food is in order."

"Pizza?" Drew suggested.

"Is Gumby's even open today?" Laney asked pensively.

"Ugh." Just the thought of food was enough to make me want to dry heave.

Laney and Drew both chuckled. "I know it sounds gross right now, but trust me — eating is the best thing you can do for yourself," Laney assured me.

"Yeah. Especially really greasy stuff. It helps soak up the leftover alcohol in your body," Drew added.

"Tell you what," Laney said. "How about you two go take a shower and I'll go to McAllister's and pick us up some food. Fries, grilled cheese sandwiches. What else?"

"Mashed potatoes and mac 'n cheese," Drew said. "Oh, and bananas."

"Right. Go on. I'll be back by the time you're finished."

And she was. She had set before us two whole boxes of hot, greasy fries, tubs of mac 'n cheese and mashed potatoes and at least ten grilled cheese sandwiches. The sight of all the food made me want to yak what little water remained in my stomach, but I sat and forced down a grilled cheese and a couple of fries. And surprisingly enough, I did feel better afterwards.

"Well I think the party was an overall success," Drew said as he munched on a fry.

"I agree," Laney nodded. "Except for that whole spat with Maxwell Thompson."

I groaned. "Please don't remind me."

She grinned. "We all do stupid things when we get drunk, Miri," she said soothingly. "Just be glad you did it in the presence of friends who care about you."

"Yeah," I grumbled. "I just wish I had the presence of mind to stop it before the whole kissing thing. I feel like such a fucking idiot."

"Yeah, well now you know that he's a dickwad and you can avoid him in the future," Drew said as he picked up the remote and turned on the TV. He changed the channel to CNN, which was busy wrapping up a segment on New Year's celebrations across the country.

"And speaking of New Year's celebrations, it looks like Miriam Porter, the famous hero who saved Alana Hammond, daughter of President John Hammond, was having a little party of her own," the news anchor grinned cheekily into the camera. Then the screen began flashing grainy, dark photos of me on Laney's front step with Maxwell Thompson.

My already fragile stomach started twisting itself in knots and the food I had just eaten threatened to make a reappearance. "This cannot be happening."

First was a photo of Maxwell propping his arm around me as he helped me sit down. Then there was a photo of us leaning in close together, laughing at something. And the last one was of us kissing as we rang in the New Year.

"These photos have surfaced after her alleged break up with first son John Hammond Jr. According to the rumors, the famous son was seen kissing his ex-girlfriend at the White House Christmas party and was the cause for their break up. However, it doesn't look like Miriam is too torn up about it."

They flashed the pictures again and I felt the overwhelming need to bang my head against something very solid. Like concrete.

The man's female co-anchor started laughing. "You go, girl," she chuckled. "He wasn't half bad-looking, was he?"

Laney finally ripped the remote out of Drew's hand and switched the TV off. We sat in the living room in complete, shocked silence for a few minutes as we took in the aftermath of what happened.

"I'm trying to find a silver lining," Drew announced.

"Well?" Laney prompted.

"…she's not pregnant?"

I groaned and buried my head in my knees. "I cannot believe this is happening."

"Come on, Miri," Laney said as soothingly as she could. "Like I said, we all do stupid things when we're drunk. You wouldn't be the first person in the world that made out with someone when she was plastered. God knows I've done it before."

"Yeah, but did pictures of your drunken mistake end up on national television the next day?" I shot.

"Well…no…"

I groaned again and threw myself flat on Laney's couch. "Fuck my life!"

"You've also got both your arms," Drew pointed out, like he was still trying to find the silver linings. "Not like that one surfer chick after she was attacked by a shark. And even then she kept surfing."

"How is that supposed to help me, Drew?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought it was an inspiring story."

"So," my mother said sternly when she noticed walk in through the front door. "Do you have anything you want to explain to me?"

I sighed. "You've seen?"

She held up a copy of a tabloid with a wry expression. "Kind of hard to miss pictures of your daughter in some weird rock 'n roll getup kissing a boy you've never seen before when those pictures are on the front of millions of tabloids, don't you think?"

I collapsed on one of the chairs around the kitchen table and threw my head on my arms. "It was a drunken mistake," I said woodenly. "I completely regret every minute of it."

She sighed. "What happened, Miri? And don't leave anything out."

I looked up sullenly and saw my mother watching me with concerned eyes. Then I took a deep breath and started telling her the story, from beginning to end. I left nothing out: my embarrassing overconsumption, kissing Maxwell the first time, kissing him again when we were dancing, and Laney kicking him out of the party when he tried to take it further. I ended the story with me puking out my guts and going to bed. When it was finished, Mommy sighed and hung her head.

"I'm disappointed in you, love," she murmured.

Any child will tell you that that is the worst thing a parent could ever say to a child. Coupled with my hangover, my mother's cutting words made me feel even worse.

"I would have hoped you'd be more responsible," she said. "Imagine what would have happened if Laney hadn't stepped in."

"I know," I said miserably. "I've been regretting it all day."

She regarded me with pursed lips and nodded. "Well, I believe that. So I don't think I need to punish you because you've already been punished enough."

I groaned and threw my hands over my face. I really wished she would have grounded me or something, just so I wouldn't have to leave the house and face all the reporters that would jump all over me. But I suppose that was part of her non-punishment punishment. Mothers were so wily.

"By the way, the phone's been ringing off the hook all day," she added, as if she were reading my mind. "The media wants to know all about your new boyfriend."

The thought of Maxwell Thompson made me want to crush something. "If I never see his face again, it'll be too soon," I growled.

Mommy chuckled. "I had a Maxwell Thompson at my school," she reminisced. "He was the cutest boy in school. A football player. God, I had such a crush on him."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Really? A football player?"

"Don't judge." I stuck my tongue out at her and she reciprocated. "Anyway, he asked me to junior prom and I said yes. I was so excited because he was the object of my obsession, obviously. But during the prom I caught him making out with my best friend."

"Like Johnny?" I deadpanned. It was becoming clear to me that my mother and I were alike in many more ways than I would have imagined.

"Yeah," she said sadly. "Oh, honey, I wish you didn't have to go through it, either. I know how much it sucks."

I shrugged and stood from the table to make myself a cup of tea. "Whatever. How was your night with Carter? And if it gets dirty, please feel free to edit."

She laughed. "Carter was wonderful. He took me out to a party in the Capitol Hill district and we rang in the New Year with some of his artist friends. They were very nice."

I smiled at her obvious happiness. "So are you two going steady yet?"

She blushed. "You make it sound like we're fifteen."

"You're avoiding the question."

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "If you must know…yes."

I grinned triumphantly. "You go, girl."

"So let me get this straight: you told her the whole story and she didn't even ground you?"

I nodded as I took a step back to examine my work. Drew and Laney were spending time with me at the Gilded Lily as I finished up the rest of the mural. It was coming together really well, I decided. I only had one more petal to fill in and the script letters and it would be finished.

"She said I had already punished myself enough," I told them as I set down my palette and brush and took a sit beside them.

"You have the coolest mom ever," Drew sighed. "If I ever did anything like that, my parents would have had my hide."

"Correction," Laney interrupted scathingly. "You have done stuff like that. You've just never gotten caught."

He made a face at her, but didn't otherwise respond.

I sighed and fell backwards until I was lying down on my back. "But she was right. I did punish myself enough and it hasn't even stopped yet. I can't go anywhere anymore without someone hounding me about my stupid relationship problems. And the reporters won't stop calling the house. I had to disconnect the phone again last night just to have a moment of peace."

"You know, you could avoid all of that if you just called Tyrone and admitted you need his help after all," Drew reminded me.

I fidgeted uncomfortably. "Yeah, I know. But I think I need to learn how to deal with the press on my own eventually, because President Hammond isn't going to be in office forever."

"That's bullshit," he deadpanned. "You just don't want to admit your wrong. And you don't want to have any connection to Johnny because you're still hurt by that whole fiasco."

"Speaking of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, has he called at all?" Laney asked.

I shook my head. "No, he hasn't."

And that might have been the most difficult part. I know I was the one who told him to leave me alone and stop calling and I was glad that he was respecting my wishes because seeing him now would be too painful to handle. But another part of me, the insecure and terrified part of me, despaired over the fact that he was off enjoying his holiday with the woman he really loved. He had already forgotten all about me. I wasn't even a blip on his radar when for me, he had been the target for so long.

Laney saw my face and read my thoughts. "Hey," she said softly as she nudged me with her elbow. "It's fine. There are guys out there who won't break your heart like Johnny and won't take advantage of you like Maxwell."

I sighed and sat up so my knees were pressed against my chest. "Face it, Laney. I have terrible luck with men. Even Daniel Bishop in middle school. What if my crappy luck follows me for the rest of my life? What if I stay single forever?"

"That won't happen," Drew said breezily. "If the Jorg can find love, so can you."

"But how do you know?" I demanded.

"Look, if neither of us are married by the time we're forty, I'll marry you."

I huffed indignantly. "So what's this? A pity proposal?"

"No, just a marriage pact," he shrugged. "They had it on Friends."

"Or if you realize you're bisexual between now and then, I'll marry you," Laney piped in. "We'll adopt biracial babies and pretend like they're our biological children."

I laughed in spite of myself. "You know you're really close to someone when you make a marriage pact, is that it?"

They laughed with me. "Yeah," Drew agreed. "But it's highly unlikely that I'll still be unmarried by forty. I have awesome luck with the chicks."

Laney and I both rolled our eyes and shoved him aside.

Two hours later, the mural was completely finished, including the script for "Gilded Lily." After I made the last paint stroke, I stepped away and admired the effect. "What do you think?" I asked my friends.

Laney looked up from her magazine and Drew pulled his headphones off his head. "Looks good," Drew said noncommittally.

My shoulders fell. "That's all? 'Looks good?'"

He shrugged. "You're the painter, not me. It looks like a real gilded lily, if that makes you feel any better."

I sighed. I should have known better than to ask their artistic advice. If I wanted an opinion on anything musical, they would have given it to me in a heartbeat, but whatever.

Twenty minutes later, Laney was dropping us off in her Christmas gift; her parents bought her a brand new Toyota Prius, which was great for us because ever since Drew totaled his old Honda Civic, we could only go places within walking distance or within reach of the Metro.

After Laney dropped Drew off at his house, she drove me out to my house. I wasn't paying attention to where she was going, really. I was just staring out the windshield, lost in my own thoughts when Laney interrupted them.

"Uh…Miri?"

"Hmm?" I turned to her.

She cleared her throat significantly and pointed out the window. I glanced again and realized that I was home. But that wasn't what she was pointing at.

Johnny was there. He was sitting on the front step of my house, seemingly alone, though I knew Tyrone was probably sitting in that black SUV somewhere, probably just around the corner.

"What the hell is he doing?" I demanded.

"Beats me," Laney answered.

I stared out the window a little while longer, my mouth gaping. "What do I do?"

"Go talk to him?" she suggested. "Find out what he wants."

Next to repeating the New Year's Eve party, talking to Johnny was the last thing I wanted to do. It hurt too much to look at him, much less communicate with him in any way.

"You're going to have to get out of the car eventually," Laney pointed out. "And you might as well just get it over with. He might leave you alone for good once you do."

I sighed. "You're right."

"Of course I am."

I still couldn't bring myself to get out of the car. Call me crazy, but I wasn't really keen on having my heart ripped open when it had already gone through the wringer several times in one week.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

I took a deep breath. "No. I can do this on my own. You should go home."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. Then, before I lost my courage, I pulled the door handle and climbed out of the car. "I'll see you later," I told her.

"You too. Call me afterwards, I want to hear all about it."

"Will do. Bye." I waved goodbye to her car as she drove off.

Time to face the music, I told myself. I can do this. I can do this.

"Miri," Johnny called once he saw me. He stood up and walked out to meet me with the fiercest expression in his sapphire eyes. The beginnings of terror welled up in me and I was no longer sure I could do this.

"What are you doing here, Johnny?" I asked wearily.

"I have to talk to you," he said. The tone in his voice was insistent, and I knew it was going to be harder to turn him away than it had been when I last saw him.

"Didn't Tyrone tell you what I said?"

"He did. And I tried, but I can't do this anymore."

"Do what?" I asked as I dug through my bag for my keys. I didn't want to look interested, otherwise he'd suck me in. I couldn't let him suck me in.

"Not talk to you. Miri, come on! Look at me!"

"What?" I demanded finally. "What do you want from me Johnny? Why do you suddenly care? Why can't you just leave me alone anymore?"

"Because!" he shouted. "I saw you on the news kissing some guy!" He spat the word like it was poison in his mouth. His expression was furious and his eyes suddenly took on the characteristic of ice.

The bottom of my stomach dropped out when I realized what he was saying. He had seen the damn pictures. They were ruining my life in more ways than one.

"Who the hell was he?" he demanded. "Is he your boyfriend or something? Was he the person who just now dropped you off?"

"What does it matter to you?" I cried. "I'm not your girlfriend, remember? I never was! We were never anything more than friends! You picked someone else! So you don't get to yell at me for kissing someone else! You don't get to yell at me for anything!"

"That's not fair!"

"No, you know what's not fair? It's not fair to hear you tell me that you like me, kiss me, not call me for a week, find out from your little sister that you're back together with your ex, then see pictures of you kissing her at the same party you invited me to as your date all over national television! That's not fair!"

"But you never gave me a chance to explain! And how do you think I felt when I had to see you locking lips in some trampy little outfit with some asshole I've never seen before in my life? You never even mentioned him!"

I had finally had it. "You know what, Johnny? I'm done. I don't have to explain anything to you. Get out of my face and off my property."

His face hardened at my words. Then he turned abruptly and stomped off. Unfortunately, he wasn't leaving like I thought he was; instead he stopped right in the middle of the street in front of my house.

"What are you doing?" I demanded.

"I'm not leaving," he announced. "I'm not moving from this spot until you let me explain."

I groaned and banged my head against the brick wall of my house. "Just go home already!"

"No! Not until we talk about this!"

I hadn't realized it, but our yelling had gotten so loud that we had attracted a crowd. My neighbors were peeking out their windows and other passersby had stopped to stare at us openly.

"Johnny, please," I begged. "Please go home. You're making a scene."

"No," he said stubbornly. He planted his feet shoulder-width apart and firmly on the ground. He even crossed his arms over his chest in a pigheaded expression.

I glared at him, trying to get him to move with the mind powers I wished I possessed. But my luck did not hold.

"Miri, I know you don't believe me, but I wasn't lying to you," he insisted.

I glanced around again at the crowd that was forming around our scene. But as unwelcome as they were, even worse was the car that rounded the corner and was headed right for the stubborn first son. And the idiot didn't even notice.

"Johnny!" I screamed, this time with slight panic. "Move!"

"No!" he shouted back. "I'm not moving!"

I wanted to rip my hair out in exasperation as the car came closer and closer. I could see from here that the driver was searching for something in the glove compartment, so he wasn't paying attention to the road.

My panic turned up a notch. "JOHNNY, GET OUT OF THE FUCKING STREET!"

"NOT UNTIL YOU LISTEN!"

Finally the car was too close and showed no signs of slowing down whatsoever. I did the only thing I could think to do. Acting out of instinct, I ran back down my steps as fast as my legs could carry me.

The thing about high-stress situations like this one is that the world doesn't suddenly slow down: your adrenaline infused-brain just speeds up. In the span of seconds, I looked up and realized a bunch of different things all at once. First thing I noticed was Johnny's abrupt surprise and slight joy when he realized I was running toward him.

At the same time, I saw Tyrone rush out of his black SUV parked down the street. But he was too far away to be able to do anything. And the crowd around us had frozen stock-still in horror as they watched the scene unfold with stunning speed.

And lastly, I saw the car. It was a black Hyundai and the driver still wasn't looking. And even worse: he was starting to speed up. Once I realized that, I pushed my legs even harder and reached Johnny just in time. I pushed him out of the way with all my might just as the front of the car struck me.