8 #3
"You wants any?" I slurred, gazing over at him with one eye shut. He seemed to contemplate the notion before reaching for the bottle.
"Give me a drop or two of that stuff."
I happily acquiesced, hoping he'd catch up to me, although it was impossible. I had utterly outdrank him. He hissed after the shot, and I could tell it was getting to him when he slumped back in the seat a bit dazed.
"Straight to the head, this stuff," I said with a cackle. I lifted the bottle to the moonlight and studied the label. "Wish I could make it myself. Right in my garden. I’d fill my pool with it if I could."
"About the kids..."
"Mm-hm."
"I think I might already have one."
"Wait…so you're not sure? Mate...what the hell?"
He chuckled to himself, fanning his leg back and forth. Reminding me of Rome.
"This chick was nuts! She told me she was having my baby, but that she didn't need me and never wanted to see me again. That the whole thing was none of my business!"
"Wow…that is nuts. Why didn’t she want you involved?"
"Because I’d slept with her sister. She wasn't too keen on me once she found out."
“Mateee?! I would’ve never pegged you for the type.”
He reached for the bottle and I topped us both off.
We exchanged a few stories about women from our past, although my speech was becoming increasingly less coherent.
After discussing my latest flings, I realized none of those relationships had affected me as badly as the thought of him leaving.
Then I realized how much he’d taken from me, and it started to feel like far more than he’d ever given.
I gave much more than I ever should have.
I gave all. And lately I just felt like his bitch. I never wanted to be anybody's bitch.
By now the bottle was empty and I began to feel loopy.
Like my limbs were leaden and my head was full of air.
Joe talked for a while about his travels in India and how he'd been bitten by a wild monkey at the Taj Mahal, but it all sort of passed over my head.
Soon I was thinking about angry monkeys and best practices if I ever encountered one.
"Nearly took my damn finger off," was the only lucid thing I heard.
Ahead, the streetlights wobbled. A few bats wheeled around the sky and I worried one would dive through the open balcony and latch onto my face.
Screw angry monkeys, it was the angry bats you had to watch out for.
Eventually a woman came up the stairs and moved about, cleaning the tables and straightening the chairs.
It was after 3AM, but Joe assured me Dave rarely closed shop before 5AM when he was on duty.
"He's just...one of those guys y'know?" I marveled, halting Joe's monologue.
"Oh yeah? I hear ya, kid."
"He has it all. He's so good looking, mate.
SO good looking. You oughtta see his face.
Not even kidding when I say those cheekbones could cut glass.
And his eyes...surreal. Deep, dark, midnight blue.
" I cleared my throat. "Good, thick, presidential hair. Like Patrick Bateman or something. It’s shorter now.
Good coloring—that's all my mum ever says about him. "
I poured the last drop of tequila directly from the bottle onto my tongue.
"Attaboy!" Joe chuckled.
"He's got this way about him, y'know? And I, uh...don't like it when he's not around. Whenever I can't hear his voice...or even just to hear him breathe...I go mad. So, whenever he's gone...he’s in my head, endlessly. You, uh, ever met someone who feels like summer? Or music? Or sunshine?"
"Sure."
"How the fuck can someone feel like sunshine, mate? He is everything good. Better than money, booze, and boobs. Better than fame, mate." I took a deep breath and probably spoke faster than I ever had without stopping.
"Did I ever tell you he smokes? Marlboros.
Reds. Keeps 'em in business all by himself.
Pack and a half a day whenever he's stressed.
And the way he lights them, he does this trick with the lighter—you'd have to be there.
But, uh, I just have a vision of him on the balcony smoking…
that's where he always is. When I wake, here's there.
Making plans without me. We're supposed to be in this thing together, but, uh, he's always stealing away to the balcony to think about things that don't concern me.
Like engagement rings and wedding dates and carnival birthdays and matching Halloween costumes.
Those things don't concern me, so, uh, he never lets me ask about them.
She doesn't interest him. He goes to be with her just to be seen with her. To be photographed. He's bored of it all, which is why he likes to be alone on the balcony or hang with me when no one’s watching. Fuck’s sake…
I'm a bloody mistress, mate. His safe bet, he says.
Honestly…he makes me feel bad about myself.
Quite often. And, uh…when he's good and tired of sleeping, sometimes he'll wake me and we'll drive around with the windows down, 3, 4, 5AM, doesn’t matter.
We keep going until he feels tired again.
When we get home, he sleeps on his back.
And he sort of sucks his thumb and talks in his sleep, but he doesn't know he does that.
He doesn't speak much when he's upset, so I never really know what he's thinking, so I just have to give him space until he's ready to talk. That's usually never. He just moves on from subjects like they didn’t happen, no matter how much they might still be hurting you. And now he just…wants to move on from everything for good. Like I'm just another one of those subjects he dislikes. He’s done toying with me…ready to close that chapter in his book. That’s the hardest thing to swallow, y’know? That I was some sort of weird, experimental phase he wants to put behind him. He’s gonna marry her, mate… I know it."
I huffed and shut my eyes as they teared up.
"I'm not ready. I'm not ready, Joe. Don't think I'll ever be…
and he's tired of waiting around for me to get a grip.
I wish he'd tell me when, or just go now and get it over with so it'd be easier for me.
Either way…the waiting and not knowing is killing me. "
Joe cleared his throat and I slowly drifted back to reality, realizing I'd barely taken a breath since I began speaking.
"Yeah...I hear ya, man." He paused for a bit. "You've had a long one, haven't you? I can tell you're tired. Why don't we get you home, Rafe? You'll feel a lot better about this whole thing come morning…when you're a little more clear-headed."
I had talked so much I couldn't find the energy to mutter another word.
I didn't care what I might've revealed, since I knew I'd never see him again.
It was just the sheer principle of the matter.
I had finally said something to someone.
I could finally pull my head above water—only barely.
Yet there was still the threat of the typhoon in the distance, waiting to obliterate me.