Page 3 of Blackout

‘Come on, this will be fun, just like old times,’ Addison told me when she had a hold of my hand. ‘When was the last time we sang together?’

I shrugged apathetically. We hadn’t sung together since I’d dared her to be my apprentice twelve months ago. Before that, we had caught up a couple of times to try karaoke. But singing with Addison only reminded me of singing with my family. The last time we all sang together had ended in tragedy. So I didn’t encourage myself to sing, not out loud anyway. Only in my head and when no one else was around me.

Addison teed up her song with the emcee. I had no idea what she had chosen until the music started to play. Temporarily unable to move, I let the melody wash over me the same way l let every song I listened to these days wash over me, while I tried not to drown in all of the memories I had.

My sister had chosen the song that had played the night my whole world turned upside down. Maybe she didn’t remember, or maybe her memories of that night were different to mine. I didn’t know as we hadn’t ever discussed the trauma of five years ago. But I couldn’t let Addison down, so I reached for the microphone, stepped onto the stage and sang along to ‘Flame Trees’ by Cold Chisel.

I didn’t even make it halfway through the song before the memories, both happy and sad, became too much. Our close-knit family had always sung together. My dad had been wild in his days before he settled down with my mum or, so I was told through bedtime stories. He had started his own cover band, and ever since Addison and I had been able to talk we had also been able to sing. I had even dragged Addison along to singing lessons as one of my dares, and in retaliation, Addison had found a talent competition and entered both of us into it.

Emotion coursed through my veins as my memories overwhelmed me, and with the wine I’d drunk, I felt my heart beating erratically. My body was shutting out the world around me, and tears were falling from my eyes. The blackout I felt encroaching only moments ago had returned.

Mum, Dad, Addison and I had sung that song together. Our last song. Our vocals had bounced around the car, just like every other road trip we’d made. We would sing all the way from Melbourne to Mulwala on the New South Wales border and back again. For many years, we had spent our holidays in Mulwala. Until Mum and Dad decided they’d wanted a change of pace and to live in that little country town for a few years. I felt the same now as I’d felt on our last road trip, when everything spun out of control.

But this time, I had come to rest against the floor. That night five years ago it had been a tree. Addison screamed the same as she’d done that night, but I couldn’t calm her the same way as I had done back then. She was too far away for me to whisper any words to her.

In the haze of my blackout, I saw Marcus pull Addison from the stage and quieten her down. She would be okay. My eyes closed just like they did that night, once the screams had stopped and silence surrounded me. Then the darkness took over completely and pulled me under. I couldn’t stop the screams inside my head even now, five years later. There was always ringing in my ears that got worse when I closed my eyes. I didn’t normally close my eyes unless exhaustion wiped me out. Otherwise, the night my world smashed into a thousand little pieces would play on repeat in my mind.

Somewhere in the haze of darkness, a body rushed towards me. A familiar form from earlier in the night reached down to collect me from the stage floor. I knew only because of what I could smell. I breathed in the aroma of cedar as two strong arms cocooned me in safety, and I was carried away from Jam. All while ‘I got you, I got you,’ was chanted over and over as a forehead pressed into the side of my face.

I didn’t know where we ended up, only that I had been laid down on a soft surface. I felt lips on my forehead and the bed dip underneath me. An arm wrapped around me and held me tightly, and the sleep I drifted into was blissful and the best I’d had in a long time.

Then next morning, I woke up to an empty room and wondered where I was. Not my house, that much I knew. I reflected on last night, how much was real and how much I’d dreamt, and how the hell I’d ended up in this bedroom that was as bare as my own. The bedsheets were ruffled as though someone had slept beside me. I looked down and saw that my clothes were still in place, but when I touched my chest, I found that my necklace was gone. The details of what had happened were a little hazy after a blackout, I’d realised after my first one. This second one seemed no different.

I sat up and found my purse on the table beside the bed then reached for my phone. Typical, my sister hadn’t messaged me. Had she been too caught up in her own hysteria that she’d forgotten about me? Did Addison just not care anymore? Was being selfish her way of coping when things weren’t always smooth sailing?

Standing up, I slung my purse over my shoulder as I stepped away from the bed. My legs wobbled as I made my way towards the apartment door. I could tell whoever had brought me here didn’t spend much time here. Only the necessities filled this cold, lifeless apartment. My house was the same; I didn’t see the point in making it homely when I spent a majority of my time working.

I didn’t know where my mystery man was or what he’d planned. Maybe he thought I would sleep longer or that he would be back before I woke up. He hadn’t left a note, but what did I expect? Reality beckoned and so did the family business. My night off was over. Now there was work to be done.

One

Five years later

Something wasn’t right. That much I knew before I even opened my eyes. My head rested upon the softness of a pillow, but it wasn’t my pillow. My shoulders, back and hips were flat against the mattress. Not completely rigid, but this wasn’t how I would normally sleep; it was almost like I’d been placed this way.

One hand rested on my stomach, fingers flat against my skin; the other hand was curled on my bent leg. I moved my hands over the skin where they had been placed. No clothes, only underwear. There was a sheet and doona that covered my bare skin. I let my head fall, and my left ear touched the pillow. I wanted so badly to move, roll onto my side, get more comfortable and snuggle in, but I couldn’t. Something just wouldn’t let me.

I struggled and moved anyway, letting my body roll over onto its left side while pulling the doona over my nose. I immediately regretted it. My ears pounded to a bass line only I could hear, and with the dull ache in my forehead, it was almost too much to bear. I fought back wave after wave of nausea with deep breaths. In and out, in and out. ‘You can do this,’ I told myself. ‘Just breathe. And. Don’t. Throw. Up.’

Several moments passed by, and the pain in my head eased slightly. I wondered what I’d done to myself. I was always a little fuzzy after a blackout, or was it the alcohol I’d drunk? Maybe it was a combination of alcohol and exhaustion. But I had only blacked out twice because I stayed away from any little thing that would trigger one and continued to spend all my time at work.

That meant last night, after taking off from Melbourne out of the blue, I’d drowned out the stress of my life in bourbon and lemonade to the point I’d passed out. I had shoved all of my emotions off to the side and pushed down anything that made me uncomfortable until it was buried. Maybe my inability to deal with everything in life outside of my work had caught up with me, so I’d given in and let the other kind of blackness take over: a hangover.

My eyes slowly opened to a daylight-filled room. The windows were somewhere to my left and right. Although my vision was blurred and the doona obstructed my view of the space around me, I’d come to realise that none of this was mine and I had no idea how I’d ended up in this bed. So stupid, I berated myself.

I tried not to panic and to concentrate on my breathing instead. I fought off another bout of nausea and tried to think how I’d ended up here, but the fog of my hangover wouldn’t let me. As my vision improved, I saw the pillows were untouched; I stretched out my hands and took note. The bed where I laid was empty. The other side of the bed was still made. I had slept alone.

But somewhere on the other side of the doona, out of my view, I sensed someone else. Cologne lingered in the air, a touch of cedar.

I wanted at that moment to bolt upright, then thought about the nausea and decided it was best that I lay still. I moved the doona away from my face to get a better view of where I was and knew there would be no easy escape. Not like the last time I woke up in an unfamiliar place. A memory from five years ago made this moment seem familiar. But my hangover wouldn’t let me string the importance together.

This time, I wouldn’t be able to sneak by the stranger that lay on the lounge opposite me. Was he asleep, or were his eyes just closed? I couldn’t tell, and I couldn’t risk a quiet exit. With the way I felt, I would be like a bull in an antique shop – plus it was anyone’s guess as to where my stuff was, and that included my clothes. I laid in silence and watched him, my vision still a little fuzzy, but recognising he was fully clothed in black from top to toe. A uniform maybe? He looked like I felt, wrecked and uncomfortable, but he was tucked into the lounge, and I may as well have been naked.

While I watched the stranger on the lounge, I felt the nausea return. I breathed in and out but this time it wouldn’t go away, and it didn’t want to stay down. I struggled to move off the bed but the dizziness made it hard, and there was no way I would make it to the bathroom to hug the porcelain. Why did I have to drink until I passed out?

Before I could even muster the word ‘bucket’, out of nowhere, one was handed to me. I guess this stranger on the lounge wasn’t asleep after all, his eyes had just been closed. As the bucket reached my grasp, vomit exploded from my stomach. Lucky for me, I didn’t miss, and my mess sat at the bottom of the bucket. I leaned back into the bedhead and took a deep breath, then took a couple more.

As I passed the bucket over, my eyes travelled up the hand that had passed it to me, and I was able to get a closer look at who I shared this room with. Suddenly I remembered what I’d done last night.

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