Drinking Away

A Story by dklp88

Three Acts, three characters

In a Bar:

I was bored by the drunk girl’s attempts to grab my attention. It was overtly sexual, and rather common. I didn’t even feel the desire to tell her that she was focusing her attention in the wrong place. Never cared for any sort of companionship in my life, at least of the sort that she was offering. My phone buzzed�"a text awaited me. I quickly glanced at who sent me the text. Her. I was able to ignore it for a few moments while busying myself with my martini. That could only delay the moment, though, until the phone buzzed again. It was still her. I had to look. Two standard measures about her life.

I skimmed through it, and found the word boyfriend and variants there of strewn throughout the texts. I stopped reading at that point. There would be no point, especially since the reason for me being here was to forget about that. It was an odd feeling. Suffering, that is. For pain can be dealt with. It’s temporary. Can be blocked out. But not suffering. Suffering is moral emptiness. It’s that dull feeling. That dull feeling that eats away. Damages. Harms the body. It’s almost a prelude to Death.

Sister Death. Such a comforting thought. The phone buzzed again. I ignored it. Maybe it was someone else. I didn’t care. Buzz. I still ignored it. I tried to force my mind elsewhere. Another martini. I somehow got my hands on another martini. Didn’t remember ordering it. Didn’t matter. Drunk girl still there. Still there, hitting on me. I wondered what it would be like. Taking her up on her offer. Take her home. Afterward, don’t know. Never desired it before. Didn’t now either. Didn’t feel anything. Just empty.

I thought back. Ten no nine no eight no nine but really five. Nine but five days. Been dead since then, living but dead. A breakdown. Nothing else remembered. Just the breakdown. Buzz. The response assumed, but not remembered. Memories inconsistent. Too painful. Buzz. Pain dealt with, now suffering. Sin, I sinned that day. Sinned against God. Sinned against life. Sinned against her. Sinned against self. It was all meaningless, meaningless, meaningless meaningless meaningless meaningless meaningless. Best part no one to blame. Impossible to blame for happiness.

Failure also. Failure as person failure as advisor failure as anything failure as brother failure as son failure as everything. Failed at destroying myself failed at failing to withdraw myself from love. Loved two one two three one zero two didn’t matter. Couldn’t face. Any. None couldn’t face. Any. I I I I I I I I I I I I I I Failure. I I Buzz Buzz. No point, meaningless meaningless meaningless. I. Can’t control. No control. Spiraling spiraling down a drain. Drain here, not here, somewhere else. Buzz. Too much, too much. Hate myself hate myself, hate myself, hate myself hate. Buzz. BUZZ.

Something, at that moment, snapped. My mind couldn’t continue its breakdown like that. I wasn’t ready for it yet. No matter what happened in the past, I still desired life. That was a fact. And I definitely had too many martinis. I stood up, shakily. Several hours had apparently passed, many more than I was aware of. I reached around my pocket for some cigarettes, but couldn’t find any. I made a mental note to buy some at the store on my way back. I reached the door, and finding my legs somewhat, decided to begin my journey home.

I stepped into the streets, and instantaneously felt metal buckle my legs. My head hit the asphalt below, and I heard a crack. My head felt lighter, and I could feel a cold liquid pooling around my ear. Even though I had no proof, I knew that it was the end for me as one knows a fact. I laughed; a small bitter laugh. It was funny. I had just decided to live. But it didn’t matter anymore. I was going to die. I knew that it would happen one day, as surely as one knows that a brick wall is impassable, but I would have never expected in these circumstances. I picked up my phone, which laid a few inches away from me, and started to tap away at it, hoping to get one more message to her, before I die. My hands picked away at the letters before I realized that I was no longer typing what I desired to type�"the cliché and dishonourable ‘I love you’�"but instead was heading in a completely different direction, and far more appropriate for the situation. It was the last of the ironies I would feel in my life. I sent the message, and the last message that anyone would get from me, even as they visit my grave:

‘Requiescat In Pace’

At a Home, close yet far away:

I was finally able to lift the specter of depression from my back, thanks to my new beau. It’s funny, a few weeks ago, I deemed myself as undesired and unwanted. But it seems that all that changed. It all started with that guy, the one who would give advice on everything. He broke down and confessed to me, just randomly. I mean, what was up with that? He’s cool and all, but he was never what I was looking for. But it seemed as if he was fine with the whole situation, though he did act a little depressed, but it seemed to me that there was other things going on there. We had a nice talk about it. He was extremely supportive when I got my new boyfriend. And we talk all the time. I wished things would go well for him, because he should move beyond me. I’m not really that great anyways.

Anyways, four days later, I got together with my current boyfriend, and that’s been going on for about five days. I was finally happy with my life. I was determined not to mess it up. I’ve never had a good relationship before, and I really wanted to make this one count. He was talented, funny, intelligent, good looking, and I wasn’t willing to let that slip away from me. And I was lucky that he picked me out of anyone. I didn’t know why, neither did I care to know. As long as he was with me, I was absolutely fine with any reason.

And that was when I received a text, from that guy. I laughed, and felt a small measure of gratitude. He believed too much in some vague sense of honour, some sense of politeness, to actually abandon me. If there was one thing I liked about him, it was that. But when I read the message, it was something completely off. Usually he’s reassuring me over something that I complain about; or maybe to pose some questions of his own, but this time, it was just three words, ‘Requiscat In Pace’. Odd, admittedly, but sometimes he did things like this. I sent back a quick text, ‘Lol wut?’ And there was no response. It wasn’t until two days later that I found out that he had been hit by a car, approximately at the time he texted me. I guess it was his way of saying goodbye. I don’t know why, though. Why did he think of texting me; telling me to rest in peace? It made no sense. And I worried that the answer would just drive me crazier.

Requiem:

It was a rainy day at the funeral. There were some in attendance, and only a handful that I didn’t know. But the eulogies spoke about a person I didn’t know. They called him ‘intelligent’, ‘good’, said he was ‘taken before his time,’ and that he ‘loved the act of living.’ No one spoke of the fact that he was hammered at the time. No one spoke of the fact that he loved the act of smoking a little too much. No one mentioned his complex relationship with faith. No one mentioned his own version of his sexuality, admittedly a confused tale. No one spoke about the person I knew; the person who believed he loved me. I didn’t get a chance to speak, nor did I wish to. Instead, after returning to his family’s home to pay my last respect, I left and returned to my boyfriend. The two didn’t know each other at all. Not that it mattered at all. They belonged to separate spheres of my life.

I went to his gravesite a few days later, and practically ran when I saw the words ‘Requiescat In Pace’ written on his tombstone, and only that. There didn’t even seem to be a name. It seemed that even after his death, he would taunt me with his final piece of knowledge; why would he choose to send me those words? What sort of symbolic reasoning did he have? And the greatest secret of all. Why would he think he loved me, out of anyone? But I would never know the answer, and he would. I guess we all deserve our mysteries when we die, but I didn’t like being in the dark with that one.

I was able to force myself to stay, though, and pay my last respects. I then returned to my boyfriend. There was nothing left to do.