Wine is Fine but Liquor is Quicker

WARNING: alcohol abuse

   James was barely out of diapers when he tried a sip of his mother’s wine. He spat it out and wiped his tongue with a napkin. The bitterness lingered in his mouth, keeping James alcohol-free for years. 

   As a teenager, when his friends partied with drugs and booze, James declined to participate. While most kids his age spent their weekends getting wasted, James studied and worked. As a result of his efforts, he graduated Valedictorian of his high school and college classes. After landing a surprisingly high-paying position in a prestigious company, he bought a house and an SUV. 

   On weekends, while his colleagues consumed large quantities of alcohol in a popular pub, James devoted his free-time to fitness. He ran marathons and trained with weights until his body radiated strength and wellness. Needless to say, James attracted females by the droves. 

   There was one particular female who caught his eye. She worked on the floor above him, so they occasionally shared an elevator.

   “She smells like bubblegum—pink and joyful.” James was smitten. Delighted, he discovered that her name was, Darla, and that they shopped at the same grocery store. 

   One day, when Darla ran into him with her cart full of groceries, James fell hard and fast. After he received treatment from the hospital for his injuries, he asked Darla out. Their relationship progressed quickly, but they were in love. Luckily, she had plenty of furniture when she moved in because James only had a couch. 

   For the first year, their love grew while they made plans for a bright future together. James got a promotion and purchased a ring. 

   The night James planned to propose, he met Allie…and that’s when everything changed.

*****

   James wobbled and tossed his keys toward the blurry brown surface that might have been the table. 

   “Shhhh!” He scolded the noisy keys that skittered across the table and clattered to the floor. So thoroughly inebriated that he couldn’t find the bathroom, he urinated in his girlfriend’s potted plant. He shivered against the draft of night air that gusted in from the front door left wide open. Reaching out to close the door, he missed and threw himself off balance. His last thoughts before blacking out were of Allie as he slumped backwards like a dead man over the arm of the couch. 

   Allie, who continually landed heroic roles, was every filmmaker’s dream. The popularity of her latest box office hit, Numb and Number, spread like an airborne virus. References to Allie and her work popped up in every movie and TV show. The whole world celebrated Allie, especially James, who was intimately familiar with her. James had not stopped to think about it, but since he met her, most of his life revolved around Allie. 

     After several nights of celebrating with his best friend, Allie, James blacked out for an indeterminate amount of time. He stirred, painfully aware of a kink in his neck as he slowly opened his eyes. Sunlight stabbed him in the retina and caused a chain-reactive skull pounding as each neuron exploded along his optic nerve. If the pain had not distracted him, James probably would have noticed the sticky note plastered to his forehead a lot sooner. As it turned out, he did not see it until he looked in the bathroom mirror. Still wobbly and disoriented from the previous night’s debauchery, he wondered, briefly, why someone would write backwards on a sticky note and plaster it to his forehead. Although his memory of the night before was a big, black, blur; he felt fairly certain that he did not sticky-note himself. It dawned on him, suddenly and painfully, with a simultaneous stabbing sensation in his heart and head. 

   “Darla! Of course it was Darla. My live-in girlfriend.” He spoke out loud, but to himself because no one else was around. He wrinkled his face and tried to remember the last times he had seen Darla. He used to think about Darla all the time, before he met Allie. 

A quickening of his heart and an involuntary gasp sent his hand to rip the note off his head while forcing him to read it.

   It’s Over. I’m done being the other woman. Goodbye, James.

   Running through the house, panicked despair added to his throbbing head as he took inventory of his loss. Two years with Darla wiped clean from his life as if they never happened. 

   “She took everything from me!” He wailed into the empty rooms. The emptiness echoed back the abandonment and hollowness festering in his gut. Somehow, Darla had scrubbed away every stitch of her existence from the house; all the items that were hers—vanished while James was passed-out-drunk on his worn out couch. 

   James clenched his fists, reeling with agony—the pain was too much. He had to see Allie. 

   Without the table to cast a shadow over them, his keys shone brightly in the sunlight blazing through naked, untreated windows. Not even bothering to brush his teeth, he grabbed his keys, slamming the door behind him.

   Ignoring the dent in his SUV, James climbed into the driver’s seat and drove to the pub to meet his best friend.

   “James, darling, I have the best news!” Allie greeted him from their favorite table. She raised a glass filled with his usual drink, specially prepared for him. He gulped down half of it before sitting across from her. With a snap of Allie’s fingers, two more drinks appeared. ,She grinned, clasping her hands in front of her and waited for the buzz to soften James’s face before continuing. 

   “It seems we have a new cause for celebration, my dear! We wrapped up the last scenes of , ‘Bye, Bye, Darla’ , last night and I’ve just been cast as the heroine in ‘Forever Alone’.”

   James didn’t say much, but he could not seem to get enough to drink. After several more rounds, he paid with his credit card and drove Allie to a local pub where they danced and sang karaoke. 

   When James and Allie got together, they usually made quite an impression on others. 

   “That was fantastic! I didn’t know you could sing. Such profound lyrics: If I hadn’t picked up the bottle, I’d have never met you.” A younger fan complimented the duo before throwing back a beer.

   “Aren’t you that actress who saved the earth in, ‘Sober Aliens Don’t Self-Combust’?” Twins with matching wine glasses discussed one of Allie’s most popular films.

   “Oh yeah! Brilliant how your character got all the aliens drunk and watched them light themselves on fire.” 

   “Killed the entire race of them in that film, didn’t you, Allie?” James added to the conversation before swaggering off toward the bar to order more drinks.

   As usual, a crowd gathered around Allie; everyone eager to celebrate with her and feel the sensation of her glorious aura. James sat at a table lined with whiskey shots and faded into the background; happy to allow Allie to glow in the limelight of her fans.

   His face and ears reddened with warmth as the room vibrated with his buzz. Shuffling his feet, he kicked a beer bottle out from under the table. Mesmerized, he watched as it spun—circle after circle. James’s eyelids fought against him as he tried to stay conscious long enough for one more drink.

   “These are from, Allie.” A gum-smacking waitress kicked the beer bottle under a table and lined James’s table with five more shots. The faint smell of bubblegum lingered behind her and reminded James of something…or was it someone? His neck seemed to have lost control of his head, so he held it up with his hand; elbow propped on the table. Double vision worsened his eye-hand coordination, making it nearly impossible to grab a shot glass. As if by magic, one shot after another ended up in his hand and down his throat. 

   Someone kicked the beer bottle again. James watched it spinning out of control. Just as a steel toed boot smashed the bottle against a brick wall, James downed a shot of whiskey and passed out.

   He would not remember the dream that smelled like bubblegum, but it wasn’t just a dream. It was also a memory of a happier time filled with hope and laughter. The dream was the universe’s last plea with James to remember the feeling of joy and wholeness—things he could never have again, as long as Allie was around. Two years of true love with Darla and plans for their future together, a successful career with unlimited financial potential, physical fitness and personal health—all erased from his memory, his dream and his future. The only thing he remembered from the dream later was Allie, laughing and holding a giant eraser.

   He groaned himself awake with his face pressed against the cold concrete of the holding cell. It hurt to open his eyes. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to remember. Not truly understanding his location, he reached in his jacket pocket for his trusty flask; a gift from Allie, but his hand returned to him empty. 

   “Hey buddy! I bailed you out. No more public drunkenness for you! We’re going to your place tonight.” Allie, always there to cheer him up and save the day, stood on the other side of the bar. 

   “I know you! You are that actress from the movie, ‘The Lost Boy’, right?” The warden, keys jingling, opened the cell with a grave expression of recognition and reluctance. He tapped James on the shoulder and slipped a business card in his hand.

   “I know the look of a guy on his last leg. How many wake up calls is it gonna take? How much of your life are you willing to give her?” The warden’s eyes, weary with the wisdom of experience, cut through the layers of excuses and locked onto the truth that James hid from himself. 

   “Whatever, man. I can handle it. She doesn’t control me.” James scoffed and stumbled after Allie. Once clear of the warden’s eyes, he glanced at the business card that read: Allie Anonymous Hotline, and tucked it into his pocket. 

   “Your SUV was impounded, but I saved your flask!” Her sing-song voice brought a smile to his face. She unscrewed the top and passed it to him. The whiskey stung his throat and made his eyes water; leading him happily toward the blissful darkness of another blackout.

   After summoning an Uber and stopping by the liquor store, Allie and James arrived at his deserted house. He unlocked the door and walked in to pitch blackness. 

   “Huh. The lights are out.”

   “You probably did not pay the bill, Darling.” Allie threw her head back, cackling.

   James lit some candles and opened a bottle of Jim Beam. 

   “We don’t need lights to get wasted, do we?” He guzzled half of the bottle. James’s mind bothered him, wondering how long it had been since he had gone to work. He covered the stressful question with a serene blanket of darkness by downing the rest of the bottle and passing out.

   Pain woke James from a blackout so long he had no recollection of its start. Clenching his stomach, he stumbled through his dark house. He was too disoriented to find the toilet in time; vomiting a puddle of blood on the floor. 

   “End stage, alcohol-induced liver failure.” The doctor scribbled a note and left the room without further explanation. 

   “Come on, Darling! It’s time to celebrate my new role in, ‘Hannibal’s Rejection’.” Allie arrived as the doctor left, promising endless bottles of liquor awaiting James at his house.

   Days later, James regained consciousness and answered his phone. 

   “Darling, I have the best news! I landed the lead role in, ‘Now I Eat Your Soul’.” She ended the call after cackling like an unearthly beast; sending shards of icy fear through James’s heart.

   Heart racing, James succumbed to panic. Loneliness, darkness, desolation and disease stared him in the face. Rock-bottom slammed his consciousness with reality. Finally, he reached the end of his rope and called the number on the business card that the warden gave him. Bloody tears streamed down his cheeks. Pain exploded in his belly. Tunnel vision. Darkness. 

Cackling, inhuman, laughter and Allie’s voice answered the phone.

   “You are too late. You gave everything to the villain. There is nothing left of you to save.” 

THE END