She stared at the glass of wine, which
she drank simultaneously with a glass of water. The water was for
sobering up, and the wine was for getting drunk, both of which she
wished to do in equal parts, it seemed. Getting drunk(er) would take
the edge off things (but that was a cliché wasn't it? What did it
actually mean to take the edge off? The truth was, likely, that she
simply enjoyed being drunk) and the water would clear her thoughts as
well as that tiny headache that was slowly pound pounding
in the front of her skull, the tempo building. If she drank more she
could fall asleep soon, and maybe even be up early, in time to read
or practice before work. But if she went with the water, she could
try and sober up now, and maybe read or practice, then sleep in
tomorrow before work. Debating the issue didn't matter, since she
knew she would have both anyway.
It
should've rained but a didn't. A lot of things should've
happened that day. She was upset about it earlier, but now it didn't
matter so much. All those stresses were simply things that
happened now, and she wished she
could have always felt this way. But she hadn't. She'd paced and
opened the door over and over looking for the package and the mail
man. Her heart rate increased. Her breathing increased. She had
several cigarettes. She ate more than usual. And surely, her heart
took damage, and she inched closer to the cardiac arrest that would
end her life. All for something that now, with the hours passed and
the wine almost gone didn't even matter.
In
their room, her girlfriend slept. She always stayed up later than
her, and it was a good thing. At night, it was quiet, which was nice
if you didn't concentrate on it or think about it. The night-time was
her time, and she could read or practice or watch things she was
ashamed to watch. Things like sex and bills and money and what she
would do next weren't a concern. It was a sort of formula: sit on the
couch in a minimal amount of clothing, drink beer/wine/rum, do what
you want. There was always a blanket, and sometimes the dog would
join her, nuzzling his cold wet nose (which grew dryer everyday)
against her bare thigh, a slight trail of snot slashing across like
windshield-wipers and then drying away into nothing. It was great to
be alone. She blew her nose repeatedly into the same napkin, farted,
picked at her cuticles and nail-polish, ate junk food. She would
sneeze sometimes and leave it wherever it landed. She would
absent-mindedly pick at body hairs and pimples. No one saw, and it
made her wonder what would happen if she were always alone. Always.
Would she tear her skin away, bit by bit, until there was nothing
left but scabs and scars? Would she pull out hair by the tuft, like a
documentary she saw about some sort of African ritual where girls
beginning puberty were stripped bald by the women of their community?
Maybe.
But
she wasn't always alone, and that was a good thing. She took a gulp
of wine and followed it with water, instantly rinsing the taste from
her mouth and leaving her teeth slightly less purple. Running her
tongue across her lips she could taste the previous bottle of wine,
which she'd shared with her girlfriend before she went to bed. She
yawned and drank more wine and water and thought about mixing them
together. A toe itched so she scratched it. She yawned again. She
rubber her belly. She burped softly. She thought about a friend she
hadn't called in a while and wondered whose fault it was. She
wondered if she was good or bad at telling stories, and if the bad
things she heard about herself were true and if so, if there was any
chance for change. She rubbed at her eyes and felt tired. She hated
sleep, but she loved sleeping in. She stretched her arms above her
head and felt the cartilage stretching in her shoulders and back. She
wondered if she had good posture. She thought about being a kid and
watching a bad horror movie at someone's house during a hot day in
the summer. She finished the wine and took another drink of water,
which splashed into her eye and she winced and felt foolish and then
she felt cold, so she decided to go to bed.
