zg_shadows | Drunken Mummy tat. (Reply)

The breeze from the river was deliciously cool against her skin. She was alone, here on the Embankment; it was a long time since London had been a place where people could relax and watch the world go by, and even in those days most people had had better things to do on a dull and overcast day like this one.

Rehema sank heavily down onto one of the benches, pulling one foot up onto the cold, hard wood and clasping her hands loosely about her ankle. Sighing, she rested her spinning head on her knee and tried to summon up the courage to go back.

Mark and Rebecca would be going to the London Eye soon, and she should be going with them. If she lifted her head (carefully, so as not to make herself dizzy) she could blurrily make it out across the river, close enough to walk to. But Mark would just give her the same set look he had given her in Rebecca's front room and make her stay behind. As though there was nothing she could do to help, just because she'd had a bit to drink. Stupid puritanical attitude. She just needed to concentrate a bit more, that was all.

She'd tell him that. She'd say that yeah, she was drunk, but she could still do everything they needed her to, and she'd prove it.

She put her foot back down on the ground and got up, very carefully, swaying despite her best efforts. The movement made her stomach roil and she sat down again, breathing quickly until the feeling of nausea passed.

No. She couldn't do it. She couldn't go back to them like this. Not to Mark, who she'd given all those assurances to last month; to Juan, who'd be disgusted by the state she was in; to Rebecca, who'd been so unfailingly generous; to Alexander, who'd as good as told her to stop drinking back while she could still stand up. She couldn't face any of them.

Sighing, Rehema rested her spinning head on her knee and waited to sober up enough for the long walk home.