the tears roll silently down my face.
*
I really didn't hear when my buzzer went off
because I had stopped hearing much of anything ten shots into my
cognac binge. But now I could hear my name and it was really
bugging me that I kept hearing it over and over and over. Somehow
John managed to rouse me out of my brown liquor induced coma and I
stared at him without recognition for a few moments until I
remembered what day it was, where I was and how I had felt before I
stopped hearing things. His face looked somber as he tried keeping
me awake and I closed my eyes to keep from crying again but it
didn't work.
"What are you doing here?" I was truly
unhappy with him being here crashing my 5 star pity party.
"Jackie called me. Your brother called her
and she called you, but when you didn't answer she called me
because she couldn't leave the shop. She wanted me to check on you.
I hadn't really planned to come in, but when I rang your buzzer so
many times and you didn't answer I got worried. When I opened the
door and saw you on the floor, I have to admit, wasn't a great
feeling at all. I could tell you were breathing despite the more
than half empty bottle next to you. So now I'm here sitting on the
floor with you."
He held me in his lap and wiped the tears
from my face.
"You're trying to make me feel better n I
doen wanna feerl betterr." I didn't care that I wasn't making any
sense or slurring my words and didn't care that I could hear the
amusement in his voice when he responded.
"Well, why do you wanna feel bad? Do you
wanna tell me what happened?"
Screw you Mr. I'm not drunk but going to
make fun of my drunken friend.
"No. Notn rearly."
Oh damn I really sounded bad.
"OK, then I'll just sit here with you then.
Do you mind if I have some of your cognac?" His question
almost made me laugh, but I was too sleepy to respond.
*
Hmmm. Bacon.
I was so hungry but all I wanted was bacon,
and I wanted it so bad that I could smell it. Why did I taste
Hennessy? I opened my eyes determined to scrub and gargle my mouth
of the horrid aftertaste. I was lying on my couch with my Snoopy
blanket covering me and John was in my kitchen.
I did smell bacon.
I sat up slowly fearing any sudden movement
might spark a hangover headache, but surprisingly I was fine. John
noticed I was awake when I was halfway to the kitchen.
"Hey there," he said in a hoarse
whisper.
I smirked still not quite able to laugh
yet.
"Why are you whispering?" I played
along.
He put his finger up to his lips to silence
me and pointed to his head. Who was this guy? "Um, I'm fine John
you don't have to whisper."
He winced at my raised voice.
"OK, but what about me?"
I was confused. He lifted the empty bottle
and I actually laughed.
He pushed a plate across the look
through.
"Sandwich?" Again, in a whisper.
We ate our BLTs in relative silence until I
began asking questions and he filled me in on what happened
earlier. I figured he wouldn't say much unless he knew I was ready,
and I wasn't really sure I was, but since he was beyond kind enough
to be here taking care of me I could at least try. "So I've been
asleep for the last eight hours?"
It was about 2:00 pm when I started
drinking. Now it was after 11:00 pm.
"Yes ma'am. A deep, deep, sleep. I had to
put my finger under your nose to check if you were breathing when I
first came in."
I blushed with embarrassment. "Shut up! No,
you did not have to check my breathing."
He shook his head. "Oh hell yeah I did! You
had such a tight grip on the bottle... you know how rigor mortis
sets in and."
I couldn't believe him. "Oh God! OK, enough!
I passed out in the privacy of my own home and you invaded it, so
you don't get to make fun of me."
He smiled at my outburst. "Well, I just
wanted to make you laugh and I did so I should get a 'job well
done'."
I smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."
I prayed that I wouldn't cry again, but it
didn't seem that I had any tears left.
After we ate I headed back
*
I really didn't hear when my buzzer went off
because I had stopped hearing much of anything ten shots into my
cognac binge. But now I could hear my name and it was really
bugging me that I kept hearing it over and over and over. Somehow
John managed to rouse me out of my brown liquor induced coma and I
stared at him without recognition for a few moments until I
remembered what day it was, where I was and how I had felt before I
stopped hearing things. His face looked somber as he tried keeping
me awake and I closed my eyes to keep from crying again but it
didn't work.
"What are you doing here?" I was truly
unhappy with him being here crashing my 5 star pity party.
"Jackie called me. Your brother called her
and she called you, but when you didn't answer she called me
because she couldn't leave the shop. She wanted me to check on you.
I hadn't really planned to come in, but when I rang your buzzer so
many times and you didn't answer I got worried. When I opened the
door and saw you on the floor, I have to admit, wasn't a great
feeling at all. I could tell you were breathing despite the more
than half empty bottle next to you. So now I'm here sitting on the
floor with you."
He held me in his lap and wiped the tears
from my face.
"You're trying to make me feel better n I
doen wanna feerl betterr." I didn't care that I wasn't making any
sense or slurring my words and didn't care that I could hear the
amusement in his voice when he responded.
"Well, why do you wanna feel bad? Do you
wanna tell me what happened?"
Screw you Mr. I'm not drunk but going to
make fun of my drunken friend.
"No. Notn rearly."
Oh damn I really sounded bad.
"OK, then I'll just sit here with you then.
Do you mind if I have some of your cognac?" His question
almost made me laugh, but I was too sleepy to respond.
*
Hmmm. Bacon.
I was so hungry but all I wanted was bacon,
and I wanted it so bad that I could smell it. Why did I taste
Hennessy? I opened my eyes determined to scrub and gargle my mouth
of the horrid aftertaste. I was lying on my couch with my Snoopy
blanket covering me and John was in my kitchen.
I did smell bacon.
I sat up slowly fearing any sudden movement
might spark a hangover headache, but surprisingly I was fine. John
noticed I was awake when I was halfway to the kitchen.
"Hey there," he said in a hoarse
whisper.
I smirked still not quite able to laugh
yet.
"Why are you whispering?" I played
along.
He put his finger up to his lips to silence
me and pointed to his head. Who was this guy? "Um, I'm fine John
you don't have to whisper."
He winced at my raised voice.
"OK, but what about me?"
I was confused. He lifted the empty bottle
and I actually laughed.
He pushed a plate across the look
through.
"Sandwich?" Again, in a whisper.
We ate our BLTs in relative silence until I
began asking questions and he filled me in on what happened
earlier. I figured he wouldn't say much unless he knew I was ready,
and I wasn't really sure I was, but since he was beyond kind enough
to be here taking care of me I could at least try. "So I've been
asleep for the last eight hours?"
It was about 2:00 pm when I started
drinking. Now it was after 11:00 pm.
"Yes ma'am. A deep, deep, sleep. I had to
put my finger under your nose to check if you were breathing when I
first came in."
I blushed with embarrassment. "Shut up! No,
you did not have to check my breathing."
He shook his head. "Oh hell yeah I did! You
had such a tight grip on the bottle... you know how rigor mortis
sets in and."
I couldn't believe him. "Oh God! OK, enough!
I passed out in the privacy of my own home and you invaded it, so
you don't get to make fun of me."
He smiled at my outburst. "Well, I just
wanted to make you laugh and I did so I should get a 'job well
done'."
I smiled sheepishly. "Thank you."
I prayed that I wouldn't cry again, but it
didn't seem that I had any tears left.
After we ate I headed back
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