The Ten Minute Whiskey

So there I was. Stars above me, twinkling and dying and making me smile. Everything was beautiful. The pavement on my back was cold and hard and the most comfortable thing in the world. I wanted to count all of the stars but I couldn’t. The night noise of the city sang around me. Voices shouting and laughing and talking and alive and wonderful. I began to close my eyes.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Michael appeared above me. “Get up. You’re going to get fucking hit out here.”

“I’m fine.” I smiled.

Michael grabbed my arm and pulled.

I lifted a little. “Fine.”

“No, you aren’t. Come on.” He struggled with me and I laughed. “Stand, you fucking idiot,” he said.

I did my best to sit up and at some point his pulling and my center of gravity aligned and I was up, standing. First on one foot, then the other, then both. Michael grabbed me around the waist.

“Come over here,” he said, walking me to the curb. We walked together. I smiled and looked around at the yellow street lights and neon bar lights and white and red car lights. The people shuffling up and down the sidewalks. Everyone was beautiful and I was beautiful.

“Sit,” Michael said as we came to a bench.

“I’m fine,” I said and sat.

Michael sat next to me. “You’re lucky you didn’t get fucking run over.”

“It would have been fine.” I laughed.

“Yeah. I’m sure Marie would love that.”

“She probably fucking would,” I said. I didn’t laugh.

A moment passed.

“You’re going to be okay, man,” Michael said. “She just needs time.”

“Yeah, time. Time away from me. The fucking asshole.”

“Knock it off. Don’t start fucking blubbering.”

“Fuck you.”

“You don’t want to feel like shit, do you?”

“I always do.”

“Oh, fuck off. You do not. You’re just drunk,” he said.

“Yeah. I am. I miss her.”

“I know, man. I know.”

“You don’t.”

Michael was silent and I looked out at the street again.

“You don’t,” I said again.

Michael stood up. “Let’s get you to the car man. Come on.” He reached his hand out.

“No. I need to get laid or something.”

“Dude,” Michael laughed. “No one is going to want to fuck some incoherent fucking crybaby. Get your ass up.”

My stomach was in knots. The lights swirled around me. A girl in a short black skirt walked near me and I wanted to see her underwear and I leaned forward and fell off the bench onto my knees.

“Dude,” Michael said.

“Hey! I want to see your fucking underwear!” I said as the girl walked away into the crowd.

Michael grabbed me from behind and pulled me up. “Dude, get the fuck up, let’s go.”

“No. I want to stay. I want another drink. Buy me a whiskey. Buy me a whiskey Michael.”

“I’ll buy you one more, only one more, whiskey, if you go sit at the car for ten minutes. Only ten minutes, can you do that?”

“Ten minutes?”

“Ten minutes. Then I’ll buy you a whiskey.”

“Deal,” I said.

“Okay, let’s go.” We stumbled down the sidewalk and I couldn’t count the steps I took or see where colors stopped to become other colors or finish thoughts in my head and we were at the car.

Michael opened the passenger door. “Sit down man.”

“Ten minutes Michael. Ten minutes right?”

“Yeah man. Ten minutes and I’ll get you another. Just sit back and relax for ten minutes.”

“You promise? I’m not done yet.”

“Yes, I promise.”

I sat back in the passenger seat and I couldn’t see the street from it. The parking lot had one tall light in the middle casting an orange circle on the ground and I wanted to be in the circle but I wasn’t. I was in the black. To the side. Forgotten out here while time went by. While she needed time. I was drowning and no one could see me. Out here.

“Michael?”

“Yeah man.”

“Am I going to be okay?”

“Yeah, man. You’re going to be fine.”

“Okay.”

I closed my eyes and tried to keep track of the time.