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another
patrik wijkstrom
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We got drunk. I mean there was nothing else to do. The place was dead. People were sitting at the tables, at the bar. Just sitting. Even when they were dancing they were sitting. Everybody was sitting. I was sitting. My friend Mike was sitting. But if you drink it doesn't matter if you sit. Because then you spin and you turn and you laugh and you never, never ever have to care. So we drank.
"We could go. Or we could get drunk as hell," I say. Mike laughs so I continue, "Drunk as hell." And he says, "Sometimes you aren't as stupid as you look." I laugh and I raise my glass and we drink. And then we order another round. We always order double orders , because "the waitress might get lost." And then I don't know how many drinks and beers and glasses of wine I have had. So I ask him. He doesn't know either. "But we'll probably find out if we call on the waitress and ask her," he says. So we do. She doesn't know either. But we order another round. Two, that is. And then we begin to count again. I think that maybe we could use the time to keep track of the glasses of beer and bottles of wine. Maybe in an hour we drink two rounds. Four that is. But the watch on my wrist never stands still it seems. So I hold it close to my ear to see if it's ticking. It isn't. "See these cheap Japanese watches. They never even work. Well they do for a while and then nothing works," I say. My friend wants to look at it. "Sure," I say and slip it over to him. He looks at it, turns it around back and forth and says, "You know, this is digital." I want the watch back. He throws it to me. I don't want to put it on so I dunk it in the half-empty glass of red wine and take a sip. "Nothing fucking works," I say. He laughs. They play a good song. So we jump to the dance floor. Someone puts his face into mine and says, "Watch your step or I...." I jump on the floor and I spin around and I am happy because there is nothing more I want. And then the song ends. And we sit down. I can't find my jacket. Or my drink. "Oh well, it's stolen," I say. "But I'm so warm I never need a jacket. I don't understand the purpose of jackets anyway. They're just in the way. I don't need anything to keep me warm at night." Strange. Someone has moved the jacket to another table. And there are the drinks and the bottles of beer and the glasses of wine also. So we move there instead. Then the waitress comes up to us and says, "We're closing, you need to go now." We beg, "Just one more round, please." "Sorry guys, just finish what you have." I lean over to Mike and say, "I'm glad we just got another round." Then we are out of the place. And we find a car. "Where did the driver come from?" I mumble in the back seat. Mike laughs hysterically. Then the car stops and I hear Mike and me making an arrangement to meet the driver at the beach. Beach I think. Who do I know at the beach? Of course, it's Brian. "Why can't we go with you to the beach?" I ask. "Then you can't get back tomorrow morning. I have to go to work early," Brian says. Sounds reasonable to me and Mike nods also. "So I'll see you in half an hour?" Brian says. We nod again. Brian leaves. Mike and I go into his studio under another studio. Silent. Tip-toeing. Maria is asleep, he says. My girlfriend is probably asleep as well by now, I think. I fumble after some booze in their cabinets while Mike goes over and kisses her on the cheek. I find a bottle of vodka on the counter and give a yelp, but it is empty. We are going to go the beach, I think. And it's warm and I have no bathing suit. Maybe Brian has one. Wwe leave his apartment without vodka and step into his 63 Oldsmobile. I find a tape on the floor and plug it in. And I turn the music up and he takes off. He lights a cigarette. I lean my head back and sing slowly, "La, la, la, the beach awaits us and the beach is always fun, fun, fun, fun." But the music is louder so I roll down my window and lean out and smile in the warm wind. Content, I pull back in. "I'm thirsty," he says. We are passing a big building with a big sign. "There's a liquor store on our left," I say. So we come to a stoplight. But the car doesn't stop and it doesn't turn left. And then we hit the curb and a light pole is coming towards us. So slowly it moves. And then I'm lifted out of my seat. I bounce back and I am still sitting. I must have hit something, I think. I don't feel a thing. And it's so silent. So calm. My body starts shaking but I'm not doing it, I think, and look up. A hand with a big golden ring lies on my shoulder. "Are you all right? What happened?" the hand says and leans into the car. I look at Mike and my head spins and I want to laugh. I want to tell him he looks funny, that he should always color his hair red. It even matches his shirt. But I don't. "I'm so afraid," he says. And he begins to shiver. But it's so warm in here, I think. Then light flickers over the car and over my face and I am being told to step out of the car. I stand there. I shiver. So someone comes up to me and wraps a blanket over me. Then Mike passes before me on a stretcher. And we all get into the ambulance. Mike in the back. Me in the front. I ask the driver if Mike is going to be okay. And she says, "Sure, he's just beaten up pretty badly. I'm surprised that you look so good. You've only got some cuts on your hands. Don't you feel hurt anywhere?" "No," I say. I can't think of anything more to say so I lean forward and put on the radio. We arrive at the hospital and we are left alone in a room and I try to tell him that everything is going to be okay. There is a big round clock on the white wall above his head. "Hey Mike, it's a quarter after quarter," I say. Some nurses come in and ask me to leave. They say Mike needs some stitches. He asks me to call his girlfriend. I do. She is coming. I try to remember the number of my girlfriend. I miss her kisses now. I find the number in my wallet and I call. She answers. And I say, "Hey, it's me. I was in an accident." "Who is this?" she says. Click. |
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