Fiction, Health and wellbeing, Melbourne, Relationship and marriage, Writing

Peg’s night out

The sun was high in the sky when Peg woke. She rolled over, burying her face in the pillow to block out the glaring streaks of daylight.

Her head thumped, like the doof-doof to a bass line. Her mouth dry and her tongue thick. Peg can’t remember much about last night. Can’t remember how she got home and into her bed.

‘Bill?’ she yelled. lifting her head slightly from the pillow. The room spun wildly. ‘Are you here?’

‘Down here, Peg.’

Peg threw back the covers and burst into the ensuite. As she leant over the bowl and chucked, splinters of the night stabbed her brain. She’d been with the girls. Sally had shagged a nameless bloke in the dark passage to the toilet. Lily had been slumped over the bar all night. Peg and Maggie danced around their handbags, placed in the middle of the dance floor.

As she wiped her mouth, Peg sensed a presence. Bill was behind her.

‘Peg, we need to talk,’ he said.

She drank from the tap in the sink. The words sliced into her heart. She remembered his ultimatum the last time she’d been out with the girls. That if she ever came home that drunk again, they were done. Or something like that. Peg stood and stared at Bill.

‘Don’t,’ she said.

‘Those girls are a bad influence on you. I don’t trust them and I don’t trust you when you’re out with them.’

‘Bill. Come on.’

‘I’m serious. How can I be sure you’re not fucking someone too, like Sally?’

‘It’s called trust.’

‘And I just told you I don’t trust when you’re out with them.’ Bill crossed his arms over his chest. ‘We’re done. You’ve got today and tomorrow to pack your things and go.’

 

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