I Think I Hear Sleigh Bells by Virginia C. Foley

Wiping off the mirror so he could see to shave, Ethan stoodrazor in his left hand, shaving cream on his facestaring intently at his reflection. Recollection of the night before slowly unraveled in his mind. He and his best friend, Kevin, had gone to the party of another friend. Vienna had been there, toocollege friends getting together. Why had he gotten so drunk? He enjoyed drinking, but he rarely got drunkespecially, too drunk to function, and he had never gotten too drunk to remember.

Then a painful flash in his mindhis father again. The nagging houseguest began once more plundering through his consciousness. Ready or not, his memory was slowly returning and forcing him to deal with the real issue at handMichael McBride.

The feeling wasnt good as he began putting pieces of the previous day together like some giant, horrific jigsaw puzzle. As piece by piece fit into place, a sick feeling that was more emotional than physical crammed itself into his hangover-ravaged body, making him feel even worse, which he didnt think was possible.

He wasnt sure he could trust himself with the razor in his unsteady hand as the inevitable kept revealing itself little by little in a diaphanous vision somewhere between his eyes and the mirror in front of him. God, what had he gotten himself into now? Then the last, elusive piece of the puzzleSandra.

Oh, shit, he mumbled out loud. Now he remembered.

Quickly finishing up, he went back in the bedroom to get dressed in the clean clothes that he had left behind some weeks before. First, he stopped to ingest the aspirin and wash it down with the orange juice that Vienna had left on the nightstand. He needed something to get his head together before he took on his father again.

Vienna had abandoned the breakfast when he said he wasnt hungry, and she now had other things on her mind. Standing behind him as he buttoned his shirt, she admired his tall, thin body. He lacked athletic muscle and hardness; his stature was solid but slender and more suited to the arts and classics of his upbringing. He looked like some dashing prince right out of a fairy tale. All he lacked was the shining armor.

She encircled his trim waist with her arms and ran her hands along his firm stomach. He was 6 tall, so she had to stretch as she began to nibble at the back and sides of his neck.

Vienna, he managed to say with less irritation than he felt. Did you get me that bag?

No, she purred as her hands began to play with the waistband on his boxers. Come on, get back in bed. I want to have your baby.

Where the hell did that come from? he asked, his irritation becoming more evident. He pulled away from her. I feel like shit, and I have a million things on my mindnone of which is the same as where youre going.

Okay, she relented, but screw that damn bag. You have how many closets filled with clothes? Leave these here. You never know.

He glared at her, too distracted to argue. Hed never miss the clothes, but it was the principle of the whole thing. Still, he knew this thing with his father was unresolved and sooner or later, hed have to face it, so he dismissed the issue of the clothes. He couldnt deal with this petty quibbling right now. Once he had finished dressing, he looked like he had just stepped off a page of one of his magazine ads.

Everyone should look as good as you when they have a hangover, sighed Vienna.

Did you sleep in bed? he asked, ignoring her flattery.

I wanted to, but I thought youd get madso, no, I slept on the couch.

Thats where you shouldve dumped me. You didnt have to give up your bed.

Its all right. The couch is actually very comfy.

Well, thanks. Im sorry if I was any trouble.

You? Never. Whats going on with you anyway? That was rather out of character last night. You just kept mumbling some rather nasty things about your dad.

Nothings going on. I got myself in kind of a jam with him, thats all. Its going to take a little doing to get out of it.

Sounds serious.

Well, its not, he lied with a smile that all but stopped her heart. Ill work it out. I always do. Can I use your phone to call a cab?

Let me get dressed, and . . .

A cab is good, Vienna. Thank you for taking me in last night, but now I have to goby myself. Im hoping my father is peacefully settled in Highland Park, and I can get my head together before I have to go another round with him. I walked out on him yesterdayin the middle of an argumentso hes going to be pretty pissed.

Want to talk about it?

Nope. He zipped and buttoned his pants.

She sighed. Fine, Ill call the cab.