When Falls came to in the morning, she had the hangover from hell. Opening her eyes, she tried to recall the events of the evening.
She groaned as she got flashes of what happened after Angie had kissed her. It felt like battery acid was loose in her stomach and she sat up slowly.
Angie was already dressed in navy blue tracksuit and fixing her hair.
She looked over and asked:
‘Elizabeth, you think I should change my hair or do you like it like this?’
Falls felt a spasm and thought she’d throw up, wondered how Angie could seem so… fresh?… Yeah, goddamn it… fresh. Hadn’t she drunk at least as much as she had? The bitch was downright frisky.
Another retch hit and Angie moved over, went to touch Falls, saying:
‘Ah, poor pet, not feeling so hot?’
Falls pushed her hand away and raced for the bathroom. Was violently ill. After she’d thrown up a few times, she was finally able to move to the sink and chuck cold water on her face. Then she risked a glance in the mirror.
Bad idea.
She was haggard, no other word for it. A shade of green seemed to be mixed in with the black. The eyes were red, no doubt about that. She looked totally fucked.
With a huge effort, Falls managed to sprinkle some drops into her eyes, which stung the shit out of her. She drank a half-litre of water and hoped it would stay down. Pulled herself up, said to herself:
‘Okay, you can do this thing.’
Out to the kitchen where Angie was cooking! Smelled like a fry-up and Falls had to double over with a retch.
She said:
‘Could you not do that?’
Angie curled her lip, fixed her eyes on Falls, asked:
‘You want me to go?’
‘Yes.’
As she gathered up her stuff, Falls got some water boiling. Angie said:
‘Okay, I’m ready. You want to call me later, we can arrange something?’
She was at the door, looking back, with that small smile that wasn’t related to warmth or humour but connected to some wires that were forever twisted. Falls pushed at the kettle, said:
‘I don’t think so.’
Her tone was cold and she wanted it to sound exactly that, the hangover making it easier. Angie opened the door, but paused and asked:
‘What’s bugging you most, Elizabeth? Is it that you slept with a woman or that you slept with a white woman?’