The last thing I envision is my wife’s beautiful face. She’s waiting for me. I’m supposed to be home with her, celebrating our anniversary. Instead, she’ll stay up waiting for me, and I’ll never show. I know I won’t.
My eyes close, and I see no more.
The liquor falls down my throat, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. It burns, but it’s nothing I’m not used to. After a while, I won’t even feel it anymore. Pushing the shot glass away, I grab my vodka and tonic and swallow it down.
“Another?” the bartender asks.
“Not yet,” I reply.
I spin around in my seat and prop my elbows on the bar behind me, watching the patrons in the bar as they laugh and have fun with their friends.
A blonde walks up to her boyfriend and kisses him on the lips before he dips her, deepening their kiss dramatically in front of everyone. Two guys slap each other on the back as they win a pool game against another two guys. A group of college-aged kids sit around a table taking shots and laughing about god knows what.
The door opens and a man about my age walks in alone. He doesn’t look familiar at all, so I’m assuming he’s new. In a town as small as Breckshire, you tend to figure out who’s from here and who’s not. He walks to the other side of the bar and takes a seat, but his eyes catch mine before I can look away.
Turning my back to him, I spin around and watch as a woman scowls at the man pleading in front of her. It looks like he’s apologizing, but she’s not giving him the time of day. I want to rush over there and slap her across the face. I need to tell her she better talk to him, listen to him, and give him her attention, because he might leave this bar and never see her again.
I don’t say anything, though. Of course I don’t. Nobody told me to not take advantage of my once perfect life. And now I sit here alone.
Facing the bartender, I signal to him for another drink. A minute later, he’s in front of me with a shot glass full of Patron and another vodka and tonic. I tip my head back and pour the warm liquid down my throat before chasing it with a large swallow of my other drink.
It’s my third round and I know Max isn’t going to allow me to have much more. The man’s always trying to look out for me, but he should know that today of all days, I need to drink. I need to forget. I need to be someone else.
“How many more you think you’re gonna drink, Nix?” he asks, giving me a look full of pity. I hate it.
“As many as it takes, Max. You know that.”
He shakes his head and moves to the new guy at the end of the bar. My mind is finally starting to get fuzzy. Hopefully after another drink, any cohesive thoughts will be gone and I’ll be able to go home and pass out. With that idea in mind, I down the rest of my drink and stand to go to the bathroom.
I sway slightly when I get up but gain steady feet and find my way to the ladies room. I look into the mirror and instantly notice my blood-shot eyes. That’s not all from the alcohol, I’m sure. Lack of sleep, abundance of tears, you name it.
Pulling the rubber band from my hair, I comb my fingers through the somewhat messy brown locks, and pull it into a tighter ponytail at the back of my head. After using the bathroom, I splash water on my face before cupping my hand under the faucet, drinking some of the same tepid water.
Now that my body’s in motion, the liquor is taking effect and I know I need to get home. Luckily, I don’t live too far away, so the walk won’t take that long.
When I get back to the bar, I don’t even bother sitting back down, I just wait for Max to notice me and walk over.
“Max, give me one more shot and then I’m gonna leave.”
“I don’t know, Nix. You’ve had enough for tonight,” he says, shaking his head again.
“Max, I’m fine. Come on. You know me. One more shot and I’m leaving right after. It won’t even take effect until I’m home. Please, Max. I just want to get some sleep,” I plead.
He huffs and runs a hand over his scruffy face, regarding me as he thinks. Max is probably in his late forties, handsome in a non-conventional, rugged kind of way. This past year he’s been like another father to me. A father who hasn’t given up hope on me yet.
“Nix, you need to go straight home and then call me when you get there. You understand?”
“Yes. Thank you, Max.”
He pushes a shot glass over and I swallow it down in one quick gulp before placing some money on the bar. A drunk guy slithers up next to me and shows me his yellow teeth in a wide smile.
“You out celebrating something, girl?”
I look at him. “Yeah, my anniversary.”
He laughs. “Where’s your other half then?”
“He never showed up,” I respond before walking out of the bar.
“Call me, Nix!” Max calls out.
I don’t respond. I exit the bar and am greeted by a cool breeze. I close my eyes and enjoy the fresh air for a few seconds before turning on my heel and heading home.
Everything around me blurs slightly, and I feel like I’m walking in zigzags, but I still know I’m almost home. As soon as my house is visible, tears threaten to spill out.
Climbing the two front steps, I pull the house key from my pocket and unlock the door. The house is dark.
Quiet.
Lonely.
“I’m home, Gordon,” I mumble.
Silence answers me.
I step on the back of one shoe until it comes off and repeat the process with the other. Climbing the stairs slowly, I hold onto the railing and find my way to my bedroom through the darkened halls.
Not bothering to turn on any lights, I pull my jeans off and leave them in the middle of the floor before flopping onto my bed.
“Why didn’t you come home to me, Gordon?” I whisper into the dark room. “Why aren’t you here? I’ve been waiting for you. I’ll always wait for you,” I say as the tears begin streaming down my cheeks.
Today marks my fourth anniversary, but my husband isn’t here to celebrate with me. Today also marks the first anniversary of his death.
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Think Again Page 24