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I’M AN ABSOLUTE IDIOT. Why in my right mind—that’s not so right—did I think it would be a good idea to mix pills and alcohol last night? Forget about the terrible hangover, I woke up throwing up every hour. Not fun, by the way. At all.
The whole party is so blurry. I don’t really remember anything, just pieces every now and then that don’t even make sense. What I do know is that I was arguing with Felix. And that I remember because the argument started yesterday morning, dragging out until the end of the day.
The dull throb in my head made each step down the staircase feel heavier than the last. I clutch onto the railing, my body sluggish and my mind foggy. Each movement felt like wading through a thick haze, and I wince at the sunlight streaming through the windows.
By the time I reach the bottom of the stairs, the faint clatter of something in the kitchen reaches my ears. I follow the sound, dragging my feet, until I round the corner. Felix is standing at the counter, pouring something into a glass.
He doesn’t notice me right away, too focused on his task. The blender sits on the counter, still dripping, and a bowl of cut-up fruits, and other ingredients is pushed to the side.
“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
He glances up, raising an eyebrow. “Making you a smoothie.”
I blink. Did I hear that right? “Me?” I mumble. “A… smoothie?”
“For your hangover,” he says matter-of-factly, sliding the glass across the counter toward me. “You looked like death warmed up last night, so I figured you’d need it.”
I hesitate, staring at the pale green concoction. It looks gross, to be honest, but the thought of drinking something that might help my stomach, or my head, wins ten fold.
“I didn’t poison it.”
“Why?” I ask cautiously, taking the glass. “I mean, why are you doing this?”
“Why not?” he replies, leaning against the counter with a shrug.
Felix isn’t exactly the nurturing type. He isn’t cruel either but he isn’t the kind of brother to go out of his way to make me a hangover smoothie. That isn’t his style. It used to be but not anymore.
I take a tentative sip. It isn’t terrible, but it isn’t great either. I need to drink it whether I want to or not anyways because he’s right, death did warm me up last night. “Thanks, I guess.”
He chuckles softly. “You’re welcome.”
I lean against the opposite counter, cradling the glass in my hands. The silence stretches and I can’t help but feel like there was an elephant in the room.
Maybe it’s my fuzzy memory of the night before, or maybe it was the leftover tension from our argument. Either way, it felt like something was hanging over us, unspoken.
“What do you remember from last night?” I ask cautiously.
Felix raises an eyebrow. “Enough. Why?”
“Because I don’t,” I admit, staring into my smoothie. “Not everything, at least. Just… flashes. And I remember we argued.”
“Yeah,” he mutters, his tone clipped. “We did.”
I look up at him, expecting him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Instead, he straightens up and walks over to the fridge, pulling out a water bottle.
“How bad did it get?” I can’t remember how it ended.
“You know,” he mutters, “like usual.”
I nod my head slowly.
“What are you doing today?” he asks, changing the subject so quickly it almost gives me whiplash.
I frown, confused by his question. “I don’t know. Why?”
“Thought we could hang out,” he replies casually, taking a sip from the bottle.
I blink at him. “Hang out? You and me?”
“Yes, Carmen,” he says, scoffing slightly. “You and me.”
I narrow my eyes, skeptical. “Why?”
“Because we haven’t in a while,” he explains, leaning back against the counter.
“And maybe we should. You’re always in your room, or doing… whatever it is you do. And I’m always busy with football. But we used to be close, you know?”
I’m always in my room because it’s the only place where I can somewhat find peace. And the main reason we don’t hang out isn’t because we’re busy, it’s because my parents favour him more than me, their other child. He knows that, it’s obvious, he just thinks it doesn’t affect me.
His words still catch me off guard. Felix isn’t one for sentimental speeches, and the fact that he was even suggesting this feels… strange.
“Alright,” I say slowly, still not entirely convinced. “What exactly do you want to do?”
He shrugs. “Pool?”
“The pool?” I repeat, raising an eyebrow. “What, are we kids again?”
He smirks faintly. “Why not? Unless you’re scared I’ll beat you at volleyball.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. But if this gets weird, I’m out.”
He lets out a laugh, running his hand through his messy blonde curls. “Whatever you say, Carmen.”
The sun is warm against my skin as I step into the backyard. Felix is already outside, tossing the inflatable volleyball into the pool. The water sparkles under the light, clear and inviting, and for a moment, it feels like stepping into another time.
I slip off my slides and walk to the edge of the pool, dipping a toe into the cool water before stepping in. Felix is already waist-deep, holding the ball with a smug grin.
“You ready to lose?” he calls out.
“You wish,” I shoot back, wading into the water until I’m chest-deep.
We start off with easy volleys, the ball bouncing lightly between us. It feels weird at first, like trying to slip into an old routine that doesn’t quite fit anymore. But as the minutes pass, the awkwardness fades away.
“Remember when we used to do this every summer?” Felix asks, his tone more nostalgic than I expect.
I nod, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. Back when we didn’t hate each other.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “We don’t hate each other.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” I mutter, smirking as I hit the ball back to him.
We play for a while, the water splashing around us as we laugh and tease each other. It feels good, almost normal. Like we have gone back in time to when things were simpler.
Those times don’t even feel real in my mind, only like a figment of imagination because I can’t remember the last time we hung out, the last time we laughed together, the last time we actually enjoyed each other’s presence.
Eventually, Felix catches the ball and holds it under his arm, his expression shifting.
“Hey,” he says, his voice quieter. “About last night…”
I tense, my smile fading. “What about it?”
“I’m sorry,” he says, the words surprising me so much I almost didn’t register them. “For the way I acted. I shouldn’t have snapped at you, especially in front of everyone.”
I stare at him, unsure how to respond. Felix isn’t exactly known for apologising, and hearing him say it now left me a little stunned. But also, I don’t remember him snapping at me at all.
“Why are you apologising now?” I ask cautiously.
He shrugs, looking down at the water. “Because I was a dick. And because you’re my sister. I’m supposed to have your back, not… whatever I was doing last night.”
For a moment, I don’t say anything. Then I nod slowly. “Thanks, Felix. I mean it.”
His lips tilt up into a faint smile, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like things might actually be okay between us. Felix tosses the volleyball onto the pool deck, running a hand through his wet hair.
He looks over at me, water dripping from his face, before climbing out of the pool. I stay behind, letting the cool water swirl around me as I float on my back, trying to hold onto the rare moment of peace between us.
The slam of the back door snaps me out of my thoughts. Our parents are home.
“Felix! Carmen!” Dad’s voice booms from the house, carrying his usual tone of authority. “You two out here?”
Felix turns toward the door, his body tensing slightly. “Yeah, we’re in the pool!” he calls back.
Mum appears first, stepping onto the patio with her sunglasses still perched on her nose and her phone glued to her ear. She gives us a quick wave before retreating inside, probably to dive into her endless to-do list. Dad follows closely behind her, dressed in his usual suit and tie, though his tie was already loose.
“Pool volleyball, huh?” Dad questions, raising an eyebrow as he looked between us. “Who won?”
“I did,” Felix says quickly, smirking as he grabs a towel.
“Liar,” I huff, swimming toward the edge.
He shoots me a playful wink and in response I splash him with water. I always win, he’s a cheater.
Dad chuckles, shaking his head. “Felix, get dried off. Let’s hit the gym. I want to see how your training is coming along.”
Felix hesitates, his smile faltering for just a second. I notice the way his shoulders stiffened, how his jaw tightened ever so slightly.
“Sure,” he replies, forcing an easy grin as he patted himself dry with the towel.
“You don’t have to go now,” I mumble, my voice quieter. It looks like he doesn’t want to go.
Felix glances at me briefly before giving a shrug. “It’s fine.”
But it’s not fine. I can see it in his eyes, in the way he carries himself as he follows dad back inside the house. I want to say something, to stop him, but the words get caught in my throat.
I know dad pushes him hard but I thought this is what Felix wants. He likes putting his all into football, he wants a career in it. Well, at least that’s what it used to seem like. It doesn’t anymore.
Mum steps back outside just as I was climbing out of the pool, her phone still in hand. “Carmen, how was your day?” she asks distractedly, her attention more on her screen than on me. Before I can reply, she adds, “Where’s your brother and father, carina?”
“Training,” I mutter, grabbing my towel and drying off.
Mum nods absently, scrolling through her emails. I let out a sigh as I just stand there, staring at her.
She’s busy, don’t ask. She never has time. Not for you at least.
Shaking the words out of my head, I ask, “You want to go out? Maybe get dinner or something?” I venture, my voice hopeful.
She looks up briefly, her brows furrowing. “I can’t, sweetheart. I have some emails to send, and there’s a call I need to jump on in a bit.”
“Right,” I breathe out, swallowing the lump of disappointment that has lodged itself in my throat.
“We’ll do something this weekend,” she adds, her tone light, like she thought that was enough to make it better.
I don’t respond. Instead, I wrap the towel tighter around myself and turn toward the house, biting the inside of my cheek to keep the sting of tears at bay.
Upstairs in my room, I close the door behind me and let out a shaky breath.
Dropping the towel onto the floor, I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall. One fun day with Felix doesn’t change anything. Nothing ever changes. It hasn’t for years.
Dad still pushes Felix hard and mum is always too busy for anything that doesn’t involve work. And me? I’m stuck in the middle, floating somewhere between being ignored and being a problem.
The room feels too quiet, too heavy, and I grabbed my phone off the bedside table, scrolling aimlessly through my messages. A sharp pain hits my heart. No one had texted me. It’s okay. I’m not in the mood to reach out to anyone.
Flopping back onto my bed, I stare up at the ceiling, my chest tightening with the weight of everything I don’t know how to say.
I close my eyes, letting the quiet settle over me. Maybe if I stay here long enough, I’ll forget about it all-the disappointment, the arguments, the way everything always felt the same. But deep down, I know better. Nothing ever changes.
Slowly, I sit back up as my eyes darts to the loose floorboard where I hide all my stuff. I head to it but once my hands pry it open, my eyes widen. The bottle. It’s empty
“No,” I let out, my jaw tensing.
I finished it all last night?
No.
I need more.
I need more.
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