HOUR OF SEPARATION (Snippet #1)
And ever has it been known that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.
Khalil Gibran
HOUR OF SEPARATION
As I pour myself a double shot of Bourbon, my Blackberry buzzes again. My heart stops and lurches with anxiety. Is it Ana?
*It was good to see you. I understand now. Don’t fret. You’ll make a wonderful father.*
It was Elena. I don’t respond back. I meant what I said to her. I said my farewell. I don’t know if she really understands, but it’s been over between us for a long time. I needed to say my peace. I down my drink in my glass and pour myself a triple shot this time. I can’t call Anastasia. I’m still mad, but I’m also feeling empty and missing her terribly. What do I want? What does any man who willingly gets drunk want?
Memory loss: my current mission is reaching this free prize at the bottom of my Bourbon bottle.
When I finally reach my free prize at the bottom of the bottle, I feel woozy, a little incoherent, and things seem to be coming in twos at me. The two waiters are standing in front of me with the bill. I take out my wallet. My fingers attempt to retrieve the money or credit card whichever I can grasp. Money decides to come out easier. It looks like I have four $100 bills.
“How much do I owe you?” I ask my speech slurred. I look at the bill but the numbers seem to walk away and change sizes to my blurry vision. I can’t see a damn thing.
Both of the waiters who look remarkably like twins with each other extend their hands for the bill. One of them finally manages to grasp it to check the number for me.
“It’s $183 Dollars sir.”
I take the cash and slap it on the table. “Two for the bill, and one for each of you. Tttippp,” I slur. My mind can’t do math right now.
“Each of us, sir?”
“Yeah, for you, and you…” I say pointing to each waiter. They both smile with identical grins.
“Thank you, sir. We appreciate your generosity.”
I stand up on my feet, but I feel the floor calling me. I hold onto the table to steady myself then make my way to the door. The cool air hits me in the face as soon as I step outside and momentarily I feel a little steadier. Now, which direction was my house?
I look around.
“Hey, my man! Do you a have smoke?” asks another fellow drunk. I pat my chest with my hands.
“Nope, fresh out.”
“Thanks, all the same,” he says with his breath smelling like cheap beer. He salutes me with his index and middle finger and walks away with unsteady steps. I think I can walk home if I can just make to each light pole without falling down. Yes, that’s seems like a good goal to me. Now, I try to walk to the next light pole that looks like more than 100 feet away. I might have to use the park benches, and building walls to make it there. Change of goals: make it to the next building wall and then to the light pole.
Anastasia is pregnant. I knocked her up. Shit! That means I won’t get to have sex with her. Damn! I still didn’t get the free prize. No memory loss!
Hey, goal number 1 is complete. I made it to the next light pole without falling. Now I have to turn the corner. Two light poles distance. I live at Escala. How many light poles away is the building?
“Taylor!” I yell. But he doesn’t answer. Oh yeah. He’s not here. He’s home, safe with Gail. He didn’t knock her up. He can safely have sex. Not Christian. Christian is going to be a dad. A terrible dad. Oh God! I’m sick! I double; my back to the light pole. My stomach tightens, and heaves. Huh, Anastasia hurled like that in that bar. It was the first night I slept with her. Anastasia... I have to get home to her. I stand straight. No puking. I walk the distance of three other light poles, very... very slowly. The ground isn’t steady. It moves and dances under my feet. It’s a balancing act to get home.
I finally see the building straight ahead. Maybe four more light poles. One light pole… Two light poles… Three light poles, and four… Home free!
I push the door. It doesn’t open. I push more. It doesn’t open. The doorman rushes. When he sees me, he takes a second look and pushes the door open, and I pull it. I knew that!
“Mr. Grey! Good evening… I mean good morning sir.”
“Morning? What time is it?” I slur. He checks his watch.
“It’s 1:30 a.m. sir.” I walk in, and the door man comes after me, and calls the elevator.
“What’s your name?”
“Sebastian, sir.”
“Yes, I knew that.” When the elevator doors ding open, I walk in, trying not to stumble. Sebastian holds the door for me. I salute him like my fellow drunk saluted me.
“Good morning to you, too…Seb… Seb…”
“Sebastian, sir.”
“Sebastian.” The door closes to Sebastian’s dumbfounded face. It takes me two tries to enter my code on the panel. The elevator takes me up with the speed of light velocity, or at least that’s how it feels to me. I’m shaken like a rotten egg. When it reaches to my penthouse, it stops and the doors open. I fumble with my keys. I walk in to the foyer, and hit myself to the table that walked right into me!
“Shit!” I try to move away, but the table follows me scraping on the floor.
“Shit!” I say again pushing it away. Leave me alone! There are double doors ahead of me, and I push them open. Someone, some angel runs toward me.
“Christian, are you okay?” she asks. Oh, that’s my knocked up wife! My seductive angel.
“Oh…” I’d love to do that. “you look might fine, Anastasia.”
“Where have you been?” she asks.
I put my fingers to my lips and smile.
“Shh!” I warn her. She’ll wake someone up. Oh, yes, the baby. Then we won’t have any peace and quiet.
“I think you’d better come to bed,” she says.
“With you…” I snicker. I’d go to hell with her. All she has to do is to ask. She frowns at me. She’s beautiful even when she frowns.
“Let me help you to bed. Lean on me.”
“You are very beautiful, Ana,” I say and lean on her. The whiff of her scent hits me like a truckload of bricks. I inhale her scent. She wobbles on her feet. Is she drunk?
“Christian, walk. I am going to put you to bed.”
“Okay,” I say. Bed. It’s not as far as a light pole. I can make it. Concentrate Christian. She stumbles through the corridor supporting me.
“Bed,” I say grinning. Bed. What I’d like to do to her in bed. Or here… in the hallway. No, not in the hallway. She doesn't feel steady on her feet.
“Yes, bed,” she says as she maneuvers me to the edge, but I hold her. I love holding her. Does she know that? She makes me feel safe. Whole.
“Join me,” I say. I’m awake. I think…
“Christian, I think you need some sleep.” Oh, no. She’s saying ‘no’ to me! She’s never going to have sex with me. It’s the baby. She doesn’t want me. She just wants the baby.
“And so it begins. I’ve heard about this.” I say, sorrowful.
She frowns. “Heard about what?” she asks.
“Babies mean no sex.”
“I’m sure that’s not true. Otherwise we’d all come from one-child families.”
I gaze down at her. “You’re funny.”
“You’re drunk.”
“Yes,” I say, smiling. But wait, I didn’t forget. I couldn’t. She’s still pregnant. I’m going to be a terrible dad. I’ve nothing to offer.
Oh. God!” I finally flop back on the bed, and cover my eyes with my arms. If she’s anything like Anastasia, and if she has boys running after her… Oh shit! I can’t think. I can’t. I should sleep. I’m too tired to think. Exhausted. Sleep…. Yes, sleep. The room spins once more even though my eyes closed. But, the heavy darkness of sleep slowly pulls its blanket over me, and I’m out.
.....