The Sweet Forever

Karras rubbed his temples. He was suddenly dizzy, and his stomach felt fragile as glass. He burped up some liquid, swallowed it, and fell back on the bed. He passed gas. He wiped flop sweat off his forehead. He forced himself to sit up.

“Ah, Jesus.”

Donna Morgan lay behind him, naked under a single sheet. Her lips were chapped from breathing through her mouth. Her breath carried a deep wheeze. Her skin looked grayish in the light.

Karras touched Donna’s shoulder, gave it a gentle shake. “Donna. Donna, honey, wake up.”

“I just got to sleep,” she mumbled. Donna stirred but did not open her eyes.

Karras felt as if he had just gotten to sleep himself. He remembered staring out the window, the feeling of self-disgust at the sight of the false dawn. He had slept two, maybe three hours tops.

“Come on,” he said, “you gotta get up.”

Karras went to the bathroom, ate three more aspirin, swallowed cold water from the spigot until his head ached. He blew blood from his nose into a tissue. He voided his bowels. He took a long shower, came out, and dressed for work. His clothes smelled of cigarettes.

Karras pulled Donna to a sitting position on the bed, sat with her for a while until she stood up. He watched her grasp the door frame for support before entering the bathroom. He waited to hear the shower run.

Karras walked down the hall to the kitchen. Marcus Clay sat on a stool at the counter, reading the sports page.

Clay looked up from the newspaper. “There’s got to be a morning after.”

“Maureen McGovern,” said Karras.

“Good thing you work in a record store. Otherwise all that useful knowledge you got might go to waste.”

Karras poured coffee into a mug. “Thanks for making the extra java.”

“Thank you for leaving the lights on last night.”

“Sorry, man, I forgot.”

“I drove by, saw you through the window lookin’ like the Lucky Leprechaun, dancing some kind of fool dance, decided not to crash your little party just yet. When I came back, I could hear you all makin’ a hell of a racket back there in the bedroom before I even got through the door.”

“Just havin’ a little fun.”

“Sounded fun. What’s she doin’ now, rinsin’ the plaster chips off her forehead?”

“Funny.”

Karras took a sip of coffee and screwed up his face.

Clay said, “Taste like dog shit, huh?”

“Yeah, Marcus, it tastes pretty bad.”

“I kind of figured you’d be lookin’ all rough this morning. Can always tell by the albums you were listenin’ to from the night before. Saw that Whoopdie Doo cover lyin’ over there—”