Page 20 of Marcello

7

Iwoke up the next morning to the clatter of spoons in the kitchen.

I squinted against the sunlight glowing around the edges of the window shades. It might have been dim, but it still felt like it was stabbing my eyeballs.

When I tried to sit up, my head started pounding, my nasal passages felt like they were packed with cotton, and my mouth tasted like an army had trudged through it wearing dirty wet socks.

“Ugh,” I groaned.

“Sorry to wake you,” Federica said as she walked out of the kitchen with two cups of coffee.

She wore a black t-shirt with a punk rock band logo. That appeared to be all she was wearing. Without her glasses, she looked cuter than I remembered.

“S’okay,” I grunted.

She knelt down beside the bed and handed me a cup. “You feeling okay?”

“…no…”

“Yeah, it can be rough the morning after you smoke out the first time. Drink that, you’ll feel better.”

I sipped the coffee. It was scalding hot, but it was good – and it killed the terrible taste in my mouth.

She smiled as she brushed the hair off my forehead. “Last night was great.”

“…yeah…” I agreed, though I could barely remember any of it. I was naked, though, so I assumed we’d had sex. “Um, you mind if I use the bathroom?”

“Sure. Over there by the door.”

I looked around on the floor, spotted my boxers next to the futon, and reached over to pick them up.

Federica watched with a big grin as I got out of bed and slipped them on.

Me? All I could think about was the sledgehammer bashing the inside of my skull.

When I reached the bathroom, I turned on the light and closed the door. The bathroom wasn’t much bigger than the one in my hotel, but it was clean, and there was art and little plants everywhere.

As I stood there pissing into the toilet, I looked down at the trashcan and noticed a used condom lying on top of wads of toilet paper.

Thank GOD.

The last thing I needed was to get her pregnant.

I finished up, washed my hands, and looked in the mirror.

I looked like hell.

Oh well.

When I shuffled out of the bathroom, Federica looked over at me. “Well, we’ve got to be at work in an hour – ”

“We do?!” I asked in horror. “What time is it?!”

“Ten thirty.”

I had no idea how I was going to make it through the day feeling like this.

“Do you wanna take a shower with me?” she asked coquettishly.