Ep. 4

Now, I had taken a few sips. So I thought.

One cup later. A few blinks, and a parched throat, with a few steps in my sandals and the sound of that iridescent buzz hummed in the back of my head. Mossy green illuminated the tattered, stained walls of the gas station down the road. Or at least I think it’s down the road.

Pocket change lined my pockets. Enough to buy whatever that would be left of this silent night.

Strange...

I don’t think it was nighttime before. I could check the time. See where it went, but my hands were preoccupied with empty bottles. The way they clanked. Man, such a satisfying sound.

When you let the noise resonate, it becomes a meditative lullaby. Echoing and reverberating through the catacombs of your drumming heart. It brings the thoughts that radiate like frameless pictures to sing in mute as I stare at my reflection.

It’s not a mirror. You could only make out a blurry reflection in the cold, foggy glass that stared back. How it peers at you like a corpse while the faint colors of assorted beers sat on their shelves.

Oh, what to pick, what to pick.

Eeny, meeny, miny, moe. Catch a tiger by the toe...

The best game is to just roll the dice. Pick at random. Got no dice, so I suppose closing my eyes and just letting the fate of God guide my hand was the best I got. The problem is, you don’t get to see the choice until it’s too late and your ankles get wet.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?”

That voice. Sounded like an angry employee who’s going to have to clean up on aisle 3. I am sure something like this happens all the time. Has to be in the job description when you sign up, right next to sitting on your butt playing games for hours on your phone when working at a 24-hr convenience store. No wait, it’s a gas station, right? Well, whatever it is, I got my drink.

“Hey! I am talking to you! You are going to have to clean this up, miss.”

“Miss?”

Now, I am not that old, and he absolutely is not that young. He can’t fool me with that belly and patchwork stubble he calls a mustache.

“Here, ring me out for this.”

“No, no. You leave now. You cause too much trouble for me. Go!”

“Just mop it up.”

“Leave now. Or I call the police!”

“Oh, for crying out loud... Not the police. Oh no, what will I do? Anything but them.”

Leaning back, I popped the can open. The satisfying hissing sound that comes from the metal ring that punctures the top right before you press your lips to take that first sip.

“Blrgghhh...”

That was not what I was expecting at all. Taking the chance to peer at the label, I note the flavor is kelp seaweed. These damn hipsters and their incessant need to push the bounds of tastings for stouts and ales. Just leave a good thing be. Why mess up what works?

Now I can’t drink this, but I already got a buzz going.

“Hey, you want this? Here, try it out.”

“I call the police!”

Here he goes again. Threatening me. Why do they always do this?

“Come on, have a sip. Just try it. It really ain’t that bad—blrghhh. Alright, I take it back. It’s pretty bad. Here.”

Curiosity wasn’t why I reached in to grab another can from the same shelf of putrid tastes. It was redemption. Anything to drown out the flavor of the sea that now sat on my tongue.

Unfortunately, my hand was heavy on entry and more cans came out than I would like, but the door was my new best friend. Supportive and transparent. Keeps you grounded when you get delusional and reach too high.

Whatever I tasted next did its job. It wasn’t better, but it wasn’t worse.

However, you know what you know and don’t know what you don’t. I knew that can did it. What I didn’t know was I was way past gone.

My legs were already shaky, yet firm. Out of annoyance, I might have poured some drinks on purpose onto the ground. Sometimes, folks just need to shut up. Drown in their own silence. Granted. Maybe it was the very silence that humming sound so loud. It only got challenged by a blaring horn that came next.

I wasn’t in heels. They break too easily. Flip-flops and sandals are always the way to go. Sadly, I don’t know where either of them are. My feet were covered in some cuts and bruises, but mostly dirt.

What was I talking about again? Oh yeah. That sound of silence and that blaring horn. Yeah, let’s start back with silence. It really only makes the sound of your mistakes heard louder.

You see, what happened was I had fallen. Don’t know how, when or why. Maybe it had something to do with the light that blinded me. The paramedics spoke of a car, but personally I don’t know about that. Then again, my arm is split wide open. It suggest they may know better than me. I would be hollering in pain, but the medicine they got me on is doing more wonders than the bottles ever had.

It’s far too late to chalk it up to tripping down some stairs. I am certain it would have been a generous fib to tell. But given the blue and red flashing lights were already here, meant the heavy steps of authoritative boots would be approaching next. We all know what comes after that. Not words from a disapproving parent. No, I could take that in stride, given we only had one.

But this…

“What happened?” He asked. He didn’t have to. But he did.

“I don’t know,” I confessed. Half angry, half tired. Here I was like a little child about to be scolded for my mess. “I...”

There was a heavy groan that escaped his lips.

Here we go.

“... Sorry about ruining your date night,” I mused, jumping the gun. It was better to just get ahead of these sorts of things. At least I thought so.

For a moment, he just stood there. Silence filled the void as he adjusted his hands to his hips. I didn’t look him in the eye. There was no need to because I could feel his gaze. I could also already feel the itch of my wrists that would soon be in cuffs. Maybe not both, given that one was now in a brace, but one was enough to shackle me to him. Like a parent holding their child’s hand to escort them because they didn’t know any better.

“Jessie... you gotta stop blaming yourself for what happened.”

“What? Are you serious right now?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“I—” Honestly, that surprised me a bit. Enough that it sparked a chuckle from me.

“Carl, shut your mouth!”

“No, I won’t. It kills me seeing you like this.”

Maybe God had a funny way of pushing me out first as some kind of sick joke. It left Carl to taste the delicious dessert that comes with being the last child. Taken care of and spoiled by the universe’s generosity. Maybe certain people just get the good end of a coin toss, while folks like me just have to deal with consequences.

“So... how do you want to do this? You’re not going home; that’s for sure. Not with an injury like that. I can take you to the station or…”

The words in my head wanted to escape, but I found a sharp pain biting them back. Maybe it was the shock finally settling in. All I know is that there was no way to crawl out of this hole. Not without admitting that I had messed up.

Maybe the resignation was written on my face. It didn’t take long before Carl sat next to me in that ambulance ride to the hospital. I think he just wanted to spend some time alone with me. Watching me, observing me in my natural habitat.

It was oddly enjoyable. To be seen, I suppose. It didn’t last long, though. Because the moment I was admitted, he stepped away, fellow men and women in uniform coming to talk to him about what had happened. Or whatever police folks get into when they huddle up.

After all the buzz around my arm was taken care of. I waited. The gears in my head turning as I caught a few sneaking glances in my direction. Small-town folks. You may not know everyone. But everyone knew someone. Personally, I don’t think this place is all that small. There are folks who come and go. Drifters. Too many, in fact. There the only folks that no one got a clue of. Take our Pa, for example. He came and left, leaving Ma to raise us all alone. She gave us no name, so we got no clue who he was. Must be nice not to give a damn like that.

Who knows, he could walk right by me, and I would only know him as a stranger.

Speaking of strangers, my eye came to find a strange fellow lingering about. He was standing there by the wall with that handsome face of his. Hair still slick with messy curls. A white T, ever so plain and clean, tucked into black jeans.

Maybe he felt my gaze lingering on him, because he didn’t take even a second to look back in my direction before walking over.

“Well hello, Bob,” I chirped, tipping an imaginary hat. “What are you doing here on this fine Saturday night? You wouldn’t be stalking me now, would you?”

“Heh, nah. That would be too strange. No. I, uhh... I guess you can say a minor mishap went down.”

“Mishap? What do you mean? Did you fall off the wagon as well?”

“Fell off the wagon...? That one I am unfamiliar with.” He seemed to have mumbled those words to himself as he took his hand to hold his jaw to ponder for a moment. “You see, well, I...” His brow rose as he took another moment to search for his words. “I take it you fell off this wagon.”

“Yeahhh… Broke my arm.”

“Now, why would you do that?”

“It wasn’t on purpose... Just had one too many to drink tonight. I suppose that’s every night.”

“I see... I suppose you can say Cheryl fell off this wagon as well.”

Cheryl.

It slipped my mind that he took an invested interest in the single mom of two. Not that it bothered me in the slightest.

“So where is she? Cherly.”

“Here... I think. She has children. Did you know that? I did not.”

Huh. Strange. Everyone knows that. I am not going to challenge his male ego, but it’s just sort of really out there not to know.

“Yeahh.”

We sat there in awkward silence for a moment. The one where you think the other person wants to say something but don’t know what the right words to be to spark a conversation that feels... natural.

I don’t know why, but I was sort of curious about what he saw in Cherly. Outside of her looks, I mean. He is waiting for her, right?

“Bob...”

“Hm, what’s up?”

“You never said why you’re here?”

“Oh, yeah.”

There was no follow-up. He just looked ahead with a casual air about him. The one that models do when they take photos for those fancy magazine spreads. Never to look directly at the camera, but to that distant space that holds their attention.

“Jessie... are you free tomorrow?”

“Huh? What?”

I am sorry, was this his game? Is this how he asks girls out? The balls on this guy. Sure, he’s cute. I won’t ever shut up about that. But as of right now, I don’t think I am in the right headspace to just...

“How about dinner at my place?”