51
My gaze drifts from her chest down to the hem of her shorts before I force my eyes back to her face. “Why did you wear that?”
“What I’m wearing?” she replies with a smirk, acting as if she's confused.
“Nevermind,” I breathe out. I shift my weight, turning to face her more directly.
“Look… like I said, I apologize for my behavior. I should have had more discipline. And you’re right, if I’m going to be bringing the gospel to people, I have to know how to be around them.
And I have to know how to be around you, but I admit it’s really hard. ”
“What makes it so hard?” she asks. Her eyes flick down to my lap for a split second before meeting my stare again. She has a mischievous gleam in her eyes that makes me want to scold her. She knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
“You make it hard,” I tell her, then quickly shake my head to correct myself. “I mean, you make it difficult. And I… maybe…”
“You look like you're having a hard time getting out what you need to say, King ,” she expresses, grinning like a demon.
“I still think we should be able to sit down and speak with each other, but I need to go because… I need to be really prayed up before I sit down with you,” I state, starting to push myself up from the cushions.
“You're not going anywhere right now.”
“ Excuse me?” I ask. I look down at her while she remains seated, but then she stands to face me.
“You just drank… rather, chugged an entire big ass glass of alcohol.”
“Which you gave me,” I clarify.
“Yes, but I didn't tell you to down the entire freaking glass.
That being said, you can't just go drive.
I'm looking at you right now and you look like you're under the influence.
So please, at least sleep it off. I won't touch you, I won't be anywhere near you.
You can stay prayed up out here and I'll go in my room.
I wouldn't be a friend to you if I let you go driving while you have alcohol in your system.
I don't care that you threw it up; it's still clearly affecting you enough that you can get into an accident or something. HEY!! HEY!!!”
Her sudden yelling causes me to flinch back.
“What is wrong with you?” I say with tired annoyance.
“Where did you go?” she asks.
She just stares at me, her expression filled with confusion.
Same here. Because I didn't go anywhere.
“Um… anyway, like I was saying before you spaced out, you should rest here, until it wears off,” she tells me.
She’s right, and I need to be responsible. I nod and sink back into the couch, letting my head hit the headrest.
She starts toward her room but stops at the threshold. “Do you need anything?”
My head swivels toward her. She’s framed by the doorway of her bedroom.
“No, I just… I need to just relax for a minute,” I reply.
“Okay.”
She disappears inside and I hear the click of the door. Every instinct I have is screaming at me to get up, follow her in there, and lie down beside her, but I stay put. Instead, I stretch out lengthwise on the cushions and try to let sleep take over.
And the key word is "try."
I can't follow her in there.
Standing up, I stretch my limbs and walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The case of bottled water sits on the bottom shelf, but my eyes are immediately drawn to what’s right next to it: the bottle of Early Times Kentucky Whisky.
I thought that’s what it was.
Staring at the label, I still feel the memory of that barbed burn sliding down my throat. The effects are starting to fade, or so I tell myself, but I can practically taste the mash just by looking at the glass. I already downed a full serving, even if I did purge most of it.
How could I have been so reckless?
Just for her?
Just to make a point?
All these years I’ve spent trying to keep myself holy for the Lord, and I threw it away in a second.
While I could've justified the Christmas dinner, to a point, how can I justify this ?
In my head, I can almost hear Erica’s voice: “Well, Jesus turned water into wine for a reason.” I let out a soft, bitter giggle. Can I still be saved and have a drink?
My heart is beating fast. My nerves are on edge. Even though talking to Erica usually makes me feel like I’m walking a tightrope, that single glass had dulled the anxiety. It made me feel like there was nothing to worry about, like the world could finally be quiet and calm for a moment.
It hasn’t always been this way. But at some point... it started tasting...
My hand reaches for the bottle and picks it up.
Interesting. The labeling is still mostly the same.
It wasn’t something I saw too often growing up; Jack Daniels was what I usually saw around my home.
I unscrew the cap and smell it, just so I can readily recognize the difference in case I smell it again, and my eyes flutter closed.
Oh my gosh. It smells so good. So good.
It tasted good, too. It’s not the best, but it… tasted… familiar. I already drank so much of it before. I can make myself throw up again if I need to. I just want to taste it to see if it’s like…
My tongue slides across the cool glass of the rim. That smell. That sweet… oaky smell.
Inhaling deeply, I exhale through my mouth and breathe it in again. Would it hurt to take one sip? Just a sip. I mean, I already—
“King?”
My eyes snap open and I nearly jump out of my skin. The bottle slips, but I fumbled-grab it just in time, some of the amber liquid splashing onto the floor.
“Wha— geez ! What are you doin’?!” I ask, terrified, looking behind me at Erica.
She is standing right there with her arms folded. She looks concerned, her gaze moving from me to the bottle.
“Are you okay?” she expresses.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say, barely able to catch my breath because of how fast my heart is hammering. “Y-you shouldn’t have this in your house,” I tell her, turning to the sink and pouring it out.
She’s going to get mad at me for this, but I don't care. Surprisingly, she says nothing.
“I think I’m good,” I tell her once the bottle is empty. I drop it into the trash, then immediately reach back in, wrap it in several layers of paper towels, and bury it deep in the bag.
“Just—just—be careful when you’re taking the garbage out because... the glass is in there and... yeah, just be careful so you don’t... I need to go,” I mutter, stumbling over the words as I shove past her to get my boots on.
“Are you okay to drive?” she asks, her voice surprisingly kind.
“Yeah,” I reply, my voice turning defensive. “I’ll see you later.”
“King?” she calls out just as I step through the threshold.
Turning around slowly, I wait for her to finish.
“Never mind,” she states after a long hesitation.
Nodding, I blink fast and leave, getting out of there as fast as I can.