made me open my eyes. It sounded like it was driving straight through my living room. Then I heard a bird chirping outside. A toddler playing with his mother on the floor below me. A fly buzzing around my kitchen.
I could hear everything. I found my soundproof headphones and set them over my sensitive ears before allowing my bedding to swallow me once more. But then my skin felt too tight. I could feel almost every thread of fabric on my pajamas. Every fiber of cotton in my sheets. It scratched my skin.
My jaw hurt. My neck was sore. My gums thudded in time to my pulse. Hot sweat dripped down my brow, and I shifted on my mattress once more. I finally felt myself drifting off to sleep. The middle of the day felt like midnight, and my body felt like it had been hit by a truck.
I woke up sideways with my head and shoulders dangling off the edge of the bed—another six inches and I would have been doing a headstand. Despite the weird position I was in, I felt amazing. Reaching my hands toward the floor, I flipped my body over, and landed on my feet. That was the best night’s sleep I had gotten in a long time. Yesterday’s intense pain felt like a distant memory. It must have been a migraine. I had never had one before, but that seemed right.
Grabbing my phone, I headed to the bathroom for a nice hot shower. I couldn’t help but smile. Fuck. I really felt great. I wanted to take a spin class. No, I wanted to dance. I was ready to get the party that was today started. I unlocked my phone to bring up my shower playlist and stared at the time for a couple of minutes before it registered that it was just a little bit before midnight. Did I really sleep through the whole next day too? I knew I was tired, but damn!
I opened my calendar to see what damage I did by sleeping through the whole day. Already mentally preparing my apologies, I realized that the big red dot was still on Saturday. I breathed out a sigh of relief and then laughed at myself for thinking that I had fallen into some kind of sleep coma like in the soap operas.
Remembering the earlier texts from Yaz and Ryan that I never answered, I pulled up our group chat. I could imagine what both of them were doing right now. Ryan was probably in his flannel jammies watching 90 Day Fiancé and wearing a face mask that promised to make his skin glow. Yasmin was most likely sipping wine and reading by the glow of the fireplace app on her smart TV. But I felt so damn good that I didn’t want to waste it.
Me: Hey guys! So sorry about earlier - feeling MUCH better now. Want to go clubbing?
Yasmin: I’m sorry, but *you* want to go clubbing? Have you ever even been clubbing before?
Ryan: Dude, it’s like midnight. My metaphorical bra is off for the night.
Me: Boohoo…...come on, we’re young and hot!
My phone started ringing, and I answered the video chat. Sure enough, Ryan had a green face mask on and was clutching his remote control. “Are you okay? Is this some midlife crisis thing?” he asked while taking one of the cucumbers off his eye and plopping it into his mouth. “I should have never said the word menopause. You’re not getting old, Drew. You still look twenty-four. Twenty-seven, tops.”
I rolled my eyes. “I feel great. I slept all day, and now I’m ready to do something!” I whined. “The night is young. I feel so alive!” I started spinning around like I was the star of a Hallmark Christmas movie.
“Are you on drugs? Yasmin didn’t offer you one of her happy pills, did she?” Ryan asked.
“Noooo,” I replied before going to my closet to find a dress. I was feeling sexy and wanted to be bold. “I just want to have fun. So, stop relaxing, get on some clubbing gear, and let’s go.”
“Please don’t make me put clothes on,” Ryan begged. “As the man in this relationship, I’ll feel obligated to be all protective and shit, and I am not in the mood to follow you around downtown.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Ryan, you and I both know it was me who beat the shit out of Lenny Frankford in ninth grade for calling you the F