It had been a late night last night, a night that was mostly a blur. Images floated back into his mind as his eyes closed shut. A scantily clad girl all in leather gyrating up and down, overflowing glasses of liquor, the sweet, salty, bitter taste of alcohol mixed with stale cigarette smoke.

Dom coughed and leaned over the toilet basin once again and heaved. He didn’t remember eating anything last night, but there must have been some sort of solid in his stomach. Gum at least, or maybe some peanuts.

He sat back against the tub again and gingerly peeled his sweaty deep blue t-shirt from his sticky body. He threw it out into the hall and leaned his head back as it throbbed painfully with each beat of his heart.

The hypnotizing lights from the club floated back into his memory. He felt like he was coming off an acid trip, but Dom didn’t do drugs; never had, never will.

Of course there was always the chance that he had been slipped something, however unlikely that seemed. Last night he had been surrounded by friends and co-workers, not strangers.

Though, when you think about it, everyone’s a stranger; and who do you really know?

Dom leaned over the toilet again and groaned loudly, his head felt like it was about to explode and his stomach didn’t feel much better.

Last night had been a mistake, he knew that now. Regrets were a new feeling to him, and he didn’t know how to deal with the pain he felt. He remembered what he had done, where he had woken up, and who he had woken up next to.

The phone rang down the hallway jarring him to a more alert state.

“Shit,” he muttered, climbing slowly to his bare feet.

Dom laughed loudly, his head tipped back, at the joke Billy had just told him. He brought his head back up to look at his companions and he slugged back the remainder of his drink.

“Dude, is that your, like, hundredth drink?” Elijah asked, taking a drag from his cigarette and then snubbing it out in the ashtray. He slipped into the booth next to a lethargic Orlando, who didn’t move.

Dom’s nose wrinkled, he hated cigarette smoke, but didn’t usually let it ruin his night. “It’s only my third. Where’ve you been?”

Elijah gesticulated blandly towards the dance floor, “I figured you’d be up about ten or so by the time I got back.”

“Very funny, mate,” Dom replied blandly, sipping Billy’s colorful drink that came complete with a little plastic sword. Dom mused that Billy probably only bought the drink for the sword, but didn’t feel the need to comment about it aloud just yet. Sometimes Billy ordered drinks that came with umbrellas instead. Sometimes, when feeling really wild, Billy ordered a drink that came with both.

Dom didn’t know what was in the drink, but it tasted fruity and cool in his mouth. It also took some of the smoke taste from his tongue, which was nice.

“That girl is heavily checking you out,” Viggo stated, arriving at the booth and standing above them all. He looked overly rugged and manly with his long hair pulled back in a pony tail. His flimsy army green t-shirt left little to the imagination when the fashionable jacket had been discarded. Dom had to hand it to the older man, he still knew how to dress even at his age. If Viggo caught Dom thinking something like that, however, he’d drop kick him. Viggo was very spry for a man of forty-two, not that forty-two was old; just older.

Dom padded into the living room to the shrill living of the telephone. It was mid-afternoon and the sky was bright with a beaming sun. Dom’s shades were closed, however, so it was very dark in the room and the only light came from the little slits between the shade and windows, making small shards of light dance across the wooden floor.

He fell onto his sofa beside the phone and waited for the machine to pick up. He didn’t want to answer, but he figured it’d be better if he were sitting there, ready to pick up. If he wanted to talk to whoever it was, that is.

After the seventh ring, the machine clicked on and his own voice, sounding hollow and disconnected, filled the apartment. “Dom? Are you there? It’s me…Ella.”

Dom followed Viggo’s gaze to see a tight-skirted, heavily made up girl of about twenty who was gesturing with her forefinger for Dom to approach her. Dom laughed and turned away.

“Aw, come on,” Billy coaxed, “Ella’s not here to see.” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow.

Dom shook his head, letting his hair brush his face, “Nah.” It was unlike his friends to persuade him to get with other girls while in a relationship, but they probably figured he and Ella weren’t serious. People don’t know what you don’t tell them.

“You really need to get away from the ball and chain,” Orlando commented, shaking his head in agony. It seemed he finally joined the land of the living once more. Sometimes at clubs, if they were there for a long time, Orlando would take about ten minutes to have a little rest; a cat nap rejuvenated him. He always made sure to close his eyes, though, because it freaked Elijah out if he slept with his eyes open.

“She’s not a ball and chain,” Dom replied hotly.

“You’re whipped,” Elijah noted, “Therefore she’s a ball and chain.”

“I don’t really think your logic is all there, Elwood,” Dom chuckled. “Too many rum and cokes, I’d say.”

“If you go and dance with her, that’s not marriage,” Viggo said, bumping into Dom with his hip to overstress his point. All it did was make Dom aggravated.

Dom sat up on the couch and reached for the phone. “Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse and deep; he coughed to try and clear it. His mouth tasted awful and he desperately wanted to have a nice little date with his toothbrush.

“Are you okay?” Ella asked, her voice high pitched; it always got like that when she was nervous or worried. She was both of those things at the present time.

“I’m fine. How are you?” Dom rubbed his eyes tiredly as his stomach gave a little lurch. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the soft fabric.

“Where have you been?” She asked, ignoring his question. “I’ve been calling since nine last night. I called the guys’ cells too, but no one answered. I thought you’d died.” Ella gave a nervous chuckle that sounded immensely forced.

“I went out with the guys last night. Got in really late. Or early, as the case may be. I’m sorry.” Dom sighed heavily and rolled his eyes. He had been seeing Ella for a year and their relationship was rocky. They could never see each other very much; she lived back in England and had a very successful book store which is where Dom met her. He wasn’t sure if he loved her, but he had been true to her.

When he thought of what he’d done, he felt the need to flee back to the refuge of the bathroom and let his stomach empty what was left there…which wasn’t much it seemed.

Ella’s calm, soothing voice came on the line, “Don’t be sorry,” she insisted, her British accent sounding heavy, “I was just stupidly worried.”

Dom grunted in response, he couldn’t seem to form words. His head was pounding again and his stomach was protesting wickedly.

As his eyes closed he saw the table in the corner which held hundreds of balled up pieces of notebook paper. He had tried to write her a letter before he‘d spent all the time in the bathroom, explaining everything, but it all sounded too cliché. Nothing fit, nothing sounded right.

Ella’s voice filled his ears again, “Dom? What happened?”

Dom opened his eyes slowly and rested his head in his hand. When he spoke, his voice was muffled, “I have to go. I’ll call you back in a bit.”

He hung up and the sound of a dial tone filled his ears, though the sound only came from inside his head.

Dom, clutching to the girl’s waist, chuckled as he dropped his keys on the porch. He cursed under his breath and bent to pick them up. When he stood up straight, his mind fogged and he felt dizzy. It was overcast and dark outside, as it was a little after three in the morning. It was muggy out, and drizzly, but they were shaded by the porch’s roof.

“Are you okay?” The girl giggled madly and leaned against him. Because of the drizzle, her long blonde hair was frizzing out, but she didn’t care and neither did Dom. Her mascara was running because her eyes watered when she laughed too hard. Unlike Dom, however, she wasn’t very drunk and her mind was clearer than usual.

“Fine,” he muttered, unlocking the door at last and pushing it open. He gently shoved her inside and then followed, tripping over his own feet. As he got dizzier, he wondered what the final drink tally was.

The girl peeled off her leather jacket revealing a tight leather bodice which showed off everything god had given her. Dom appreciated, of course, these types of girls, but he had never taken them seriously. He inwardly rolled his eyes, but he wasn’t thinking straight so he proceeded.

As the liquor swirled around in his system, he dropped onto the couch and watched as she seductively unzipped her leather go-go boots and tossed them aside. Her leather mini-skirt rid up when she bent over, but she didn’t seem to care…and Dom didn’t comment. He lazily closed his eyes, and as he drifted from consciousness, he thought about the girl he was betraying.

If he had been more alert, he would have kicked this floozy out, but he was hardly in a position to do so when he couldn’t even stand on his own two feet.

Dom was in the bathroom again, this time sitting on the closed toilet seat, mourning over the loss of his sanity. That was what he called it, at least; it was the only thing that made sense and summed up the last few days. He’d gone temporarily insane.

He didn’t even know why he did it. He knew why he went out with his friends every night and partied like he had something to celebrate, but he didn’t know why he threw away the only relationship that had ever really meant anything.

Dom didn’t realize that he hadn’t yet told Ella everything there was to tell. She was still in the dark, still thinking their love was pure and true. If only he could turn back time.

Unfortunately, that was impossible.

The sickening feeling came back to him as he remembered. Rolling over in bed and seeing a girl you did not recognize, did not know, did not care about, was not what he expected. He had expected happiness, excitement, fun. What he got was an empty stomach that still wanted to relieve itself of everything he’d ever had in his entire life.

Sure, he’d had one night stands before, but they had never really been like this. They had been with girls he knew; at least girls whose names he’d known. This was different, and it wasn’t a good different. He didn’t remember what had happened entirely, the last thing he remembered was stumbling into his apartment with her. Then his mind flashed to her discarded clothes and his mind slowly pieced the memories together to form a whole.

A sinking feeling hit the pit of his stomach as she smiled her nauseating smile at him.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbled, sitting up and dangling his feet over the side of the bed.

“What’s the matter?” She asked, her voice low and purring as she ran her long fingernails down his exposed back.

He pulled himself away and closed his eyes, “This shouldn’t have happened,” he grumbled, standing up and leaving the room.

The girl, fortunately, could take a hint. She rose from the bed while he turned the steaming hot water on in the shower. As he stepped into the stream of soothing liquid, she began picking up her clothes and throwing them on her body.

He spent a longer time in there than usual. He pondered what his life would be like without Ella. When he’d gotten out of the shower, he dried himself off, made his bed with new sheets and then flopped down into the softness of his sanctuary. His stomach pained him, as if it wanted to get back at him for something.

That was when his stomach decided to cause him immense pain as he hung over the toilet seat.

Dom looked back on last night, and that morning, with guilt mixed with anger at himself and pain. He couldn’t eat and all he wanted to do was crawl back into bed and make it all a dream.

As he lay on the cold, hard floor in his living room, he decided to call Ella back and tell her the truth.

There would be screaming, there would be tears and there would be sighs; and that was just his side of the conversation.

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