3. Sian
CHAPTER THREE
SIAN
“C an you believe that guy?” I say to Rowan when we’re outside the club. The cool air hits my skin, and my head starts spinning. The alcohol suddenly threatens to come back up.
“I know, right? I bet they get off on treating people like shit.” She crosses her arms around her front and rubs her upper arms, trying to warm herself up. “I’ve gotta say, I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Well, mainly me, but still. Good for you.”
“Let’s get out of here. My feet are killing me, my head is pounding, and I think I’m about to throw up,” I say, gagging slightly.
“Don’t you dare.” She hails a cab. “If you throw up in the car, I’m not paying the fine.”
We hop in the back, giving the driver my address, and I close my eyes and throw my head back, trying not to think about my stomach failing me.
Thankfully, we pull up outside my place in record time. Rowan pays the man as I drag my weary body from the car. As the car drives away, I hit the deck. I’m on my hands and knees, crawling over to the grass and throwing up. The entire contents of my stomach comes up, and I’m struggling to breathe.
“Row, help me,” I say between gags. “I’m dying.”
“Stop overreacting, you crybaby. Get it up and you’ll be fine.” She rubs my back. “Plus, you’re giving the neighbors something to talk about.”
I release an animal-like grumble. “I’m cast paring.” I know my words are scrambled, but Rowan gets it. Or she should, considering we’ve been friends for the best part of twenty-five years. We met in primary school and have been inseparable since.
“You finished?” she asks when the God-awful heaving stops.
“I think so. Help me up.” She pulls me after a few attempts.
We half-walk, half-crawl to the front door, and after fumbling with the key in the hole, I eventually get it open. I lock the door behind us and head straight for my room, where we both flop down and don’t move again.
* * *
Too much brightness. So much light is hurting my eyes. Where’s it coming from? I try to peel my eyes open. It takes a lot of effort, but when I fully open them, the room is spinning.
“I’m never drinking again.” Rowan’s sleepy voice hits my skull like a baseball bat.
My hands fly up to cradle my tender head. “Jeez, there’s no need to shout.”
“I didn’t. I don’t have the energy to talk, let alone shout.” She slowly sits up and rests her back against the headboard.
“Can you remember anything from last night?” I ask, trying to recall the events, but it’s all a haze.
“Bits. I remember shots. There were plenty of shots and… champagne, which is odd because there’s no way we could afford that.”
“Champagne? We didn’t drink…” I shoot up from my lying position. “Oh, God. I threw a glass of it at someone, but I don’t know who or why.”
We both grumble over-dramatically from the effect of the alcohol we drank when Rowan suddenly asks, “Who’s tiny dick?”
“What?” I join her at the headboard, turning to face her. “I don’t remember seeing any dick last night. Big or small.” We both freeze as if waiting for the toilet to flush and a male to appear, but we’re met with silence. “Oh, thank God.” We both relax again.
Out of nowhere, Rowan grabs my forearm. “Oh… fuck.”
“No. No, oh fuck. Please, Rowan. What did you do?”
“I was shouting at some guy by the VIP section. The huge guy in a suit. He was tiny dick. Then you threw the drink over his boss. That guy was scary as hell, Sian, and you gave him a piece of your mind.”
I slap my hand against my forehead. “I’m not going out with you again; you get me into trouble.”
“Hey, I had the situation under control until you brought your bitchy side out. You’re the real troublemaker.” She chuckles.
“I’m never going to be able to show my face in there again.” I cover my face with my hands, wishing last night never happened.
“Well, that’s too bad because I got tickets for next weekend,” she tells me coyly.
My head almost falls off my shoulders when I whip around to face her. “What? Why?”
“You’re only thirty once, and you’re going to celebrate in style.” She smiles.
“I hate you.” There’s no point in arguing with her, as it’ll only fall on deaf ears.
“I love you too.”
I narrow my eyes at her, but she just sticks her tongue out. “I don’t exactly have much to celebrate,” I eventually say, putting a downer on things.
“Yes, you do. You’ve removed all the negativity from your life and you’re moving forward. You’re a free spirit now. Live a little. It’s not like Daniel ever let you.” She gently rubs my arm, and I know it’s through pride and encouragement.
She’s talking about my ex. He was controlling at the start of the relationship, which got worse the longer I was with him. He began abusing me physically and mentally after two years together, but by then, I had already gotten in too deep with him when he moved in with me. It took me a long time to gather up the courage to end it, and four years later, I’m still trying to get him out of my life for good. Even though we’re separated and he’s moved out of the house, he still finds ways to contact me out of the blue, reminding me that he still has control over me. It's a vicious circle with him. Just when I start moving forward, he brings me back to reality with a bang. But ending the relationship with Daniel was best for me, regardless of him randomly showing up unannounced.
“You know what, you’re right. I deserve to celebrate my birthday without worrying about how much I’m drinking or how much Daniel would react to seeing me drunk. I don’t need to worry about getting home and wondering what I did to piss him off so much that he beat me. I will go out on Saturday, and it will be the best birthday I’ve ever had.”
“That’s what I’m talking about.” She hoots and hollers. “Right, where’s the Tylenol? My head feels like it’s going to explode.”
I chuckle. I don’t know where I’d be if it wasn’t for Rowan. She’s been by my side through thick and thin, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If shit goes down next Saturday, we’ll go down fighting. Together.