I reach up to scratch my nose, but my arms don’t move. Neither of them. I try again, shrugging my shoulders to send blood rushing down to my fingers. Still no relief for my itching nose.
“Huh?” I mumble as my eyes flutter open.
“It’s alright dear,” a grey-haired woman with rheumy blue eyes assures me, patting my shoulder as she peers into my eyes, “We are here to help me.”
“Oh good.” I sigh with relief. “I can’t move my arms.”
“I know dear.” She smiles patronizingly at me. “We want to keep you from harming yourself or anyone else.”
The way she emphasizes the last two words makes me pause, before tentatively whispering. “What did I do?”
She peers into my face again. “You don’t remember?”
I shake my head.
“I will give you a hint. You may be engaged to every jack-o-lantern in the neighborhood.”
“Umm…” I dig deep into my memory and a flicker of the past night’s events peeks out at me before hiding again.
I gasp and try to raise my hands to my mouth. Of course, I fail.
“So you do remember. These nice men and I are going to take you somewhere where you can get the help you need.” She smiles sweetly and pats my shoulder, stepping back as two burly men in white lab coats step forward.
As they hoist me from the bed, I see my mother peering around the doorframe. Her usually pale face flushes with shame as she looks at me.
“Hey, what am I doing at my mom’s house?” I murmur as that realization strikes me.
As they carry me past my red-faced matriarch, the uncontrollable desire to burp assails me. I try to hold it in, but it rushes out with a loud belch and an oddly sweet aftertaste. My eyes open wide and more memories break free to flood my brain.
~~
“Sorry, doll, it just isn’t going to work out. Have a good night.” Aiden offered a smile like what he just said wasn’t intended to break my heart.
As he turned away, my jaw dropped. I had nothing to say but surprise left me slack-jawed. I watched as he walked down the street to his car. He never turned back. As his car pulled out of the parking lot, I shuffled inside and leaned against the door, pondering whether I was more hurt about how abruptly he had ended things or that I hadn’t ended our relationship first.
I sighed and headed toward my favorite therapist, the freezer. I reached inside extracting one of my usual prescriptions, a whole quart of ice cream. I didn’t bother looking at the flavor as I grabbed a spoon and plopped down onto the couch to assuage my feelings with frozen goodness and cheesy television. I took a bite, thinking for a moment that this flavor didn’t appeal to me, but soon I was wrapped up in the show, spooning the concoction into my mouth without thought.
~
I woke up on the couch with the empty tub smashed into my face. I burped up a flavor that reminded me of grape juice and rubbing alcohol. I wrinkled my nose and stood up. Dizziness overcame me and I found myself on the floor. After a few minutes to get my head straight, I rose again, taking tentative steps toward the door.
As the door swung open, a hazy figure grinned at me. “You don’t need a frog, you need a pumpkin.” The hazy figure offered as she pushed past me into the house.
I pondered this, stifled another burp, and peeked out onto the porch where a candle flickered invitingly from inside a jack-o-lantern’s orange shell. I knelt down before the pumpkin, inspired by the apparition’s words.
“Are you my prince?” I whispered as I leaned in and planted a smooch on his toothy grin.
Nothing happened. I sighed and stood up slowly, surveying the neighbor’s houses. Cackling gourds looked back at me from every porch, beckoning invitingly with tongues of flame.
~~
My cheeks flush pink as I remember how much my own tongue loosened up the more pumpkins I kissed without one transforming into a handsome prince. I burp again and another realization gives me cause for pause.
“Stop! I’m not crazy.” I declare.
The older woman turns to look at me disbelievingly. “I will be the judge of that.”
“I think I was drunk?”
“Think? You’d know if you were drunk.” I can almost feel her patting my shoulder with her condescending eyes.
“I think I accidentally ate my roommate’s ice cream,” I offer.
She looks even more incredulous. “Darling, you can’t get drunk from ice cream.”
My mom steps forward now, her own cheeks still mildly inflamed, “Actually, they make wine ice cream now…”
“Oh, do they?” The old woman raises a hand to her chin thoughtfully.
One of the orderlies nods his head. “My girlfriend loves that stuff.” The look on his face makes it clear he doesn’t share her sentiments.
“Even so, you’d have to eat so much…”
“You should see my wife eat ice cream,” the other orderly offers, loosening his grip on my elbow.
“Let’s just get you to the hospital and…”
The psychiatrist doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence as a loud knock on the door precedes a familiar voice calling out in anxious tones, “Mrs. Reams, are you there? Have you seen Kiersten?”
The doctor looks at me, “Your roommate?”
I nod as my mother throws open the door.
“Oh, Kiersten,” my roommate rushes forward to hug me, “I am so glad you are okay. When I saw you ate the ice cream that I…” She pauses as she notices my attire and the strangers surrounding me. “Um, what’s going on?”
“Your friend was acting erratically last night, so we came to take her to the hospital,” the psychiatrist offers dryly. “The ice cream that you did what to?”
“Oh, it was wine ice cream and Kiersten doesn’t drink,” my roommate offers in a rush, giving me an apologetic look.
The psychiatrist looks disappointed, but waves her hand dismissively. “I guess we have a rational answer for her behavior. Help her out of the jacket.” She pauses and leans in to look deeply into my eyes. “And you should never touch alcohol again.”
My eyes widen. “I won’t. I promise.”
Happy Holidays! Hope this piece entertains you and finds you well. I know. I ask a lot of my writing.
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