Tim sat at the kitchen table, his head throbbing. A glass of water sat in front of him, untouched. He breathed through his mouth and tried to figure out if he was going to throw up.
The doorbell rang and he heard Jenny pad out from her bedroom to answer it. He had no idea who would be coming past on a Sunday at this time – it wasn’t before eleven. None of his friends would be up yet. The cheerful voices rang through from the front and got louder as the visitors came in through the house.
‘Cup of tea?’ Jenny shrugged at Tim as she led the way into the kitchen. Behind her were her parents in cycling Lycra. Tim could barely focus, and struggled to ensure his eyes stayed aimed toward appropriate areas.
‘Mr and Mrs Jonson! How… are you?’
‘Good, Tim, what are you doing inside on a day like today? It’s God’s weather out there, and you’re young, you should be out there, living.’
Tim nodded to himself and attempted a sip of the water. It felt ok, so he had another.
‘Bugger. No milk,’ Jenny muttered.
‘Language!’ Jenny’s mother gave a disapproving shake of her head.
‘I’ll go!’ Tim jumped up and headed to the door. Jenny pushed past her father.
‘Oh, no, Tim, I’m sure I had the end of it, I’ll go.’
‘No, no, I insist.’ Tim raced to the front door, grabbing his wallet on the way. He was unconcerned that he was in the clothes from the previous night. Jenny grabbed his arm.
‘Look, you can’t leave me here. I can’t entertain them. I am so hung over!’
‘Ha! Too bad! I am not staying in a room with that much Lycra. Good luck!’
Tim raced out the door, chuckling. Jenny’s shoulders slumped and she trudged back to the kitchen.