"I waited for you" - a short story

[Resident Asshole]

“I waited for you” – Part I

I almost forfeited the contents of my stomach on her nightstand. Tonight it was not the drinking which made my stomach, nay, my soul queasy. Making love to her was not reason for me to feel so. Nor could the thought of her moving away move me to tears, or to discharge my unpleasantness. The thought which would not fly from my mind was that I was laying on her husband’s bed.

How does one come to be in such a place? What a terrible and awful existence, this life and its countless flaming daggers, thrown at you one by one as you try to escape your prison cell, the sound of your own voice, the evil you have purported on others. But, to live is to take responsibility for one’s actions, and this is what caused me guilt and shame. But, I get ahead of even myself. This all began in the glory days of university where all was innocence, fun, mirth and drinking. Friends, girls and time would come and go, captured within a mist of satisfaction that we could laugh at the world outside with its bills, jobs and realities. When we met I stole her from my mate, for although he was dating her, his eyes were elsewhere. Being my demon self while drinking (for to lay blame to the drink is all the rage) I sabotaged their relationship and she fell to my arms, whether by will or by pill. For a short time we dated but with her not being eld enough to occupy a barstool, and not adventurous enough to risk the consequence, I forsook her for what I then considered my true love, the brown liquor.

Years later we crossed paths and reminisced upon the old days, wondering why we did not become something more than bodies in the night. Us being older now, and neither being bitter of it, we decided to once again throw ourselves on the flame.

More to come soon

[Resident Asshole]

Getting along wonderfully, and her understanding my whims for the bottle as well as partaking herself, I naturally began to think I might no longer be forced to spend multiple nights scrounging the countryside for a proper meal and a kiss. With anything though, if you are patient, life will equalize your headiness. It was my idea that she left me to my own employ much of the time because she had respect for my needs, both as a man of the times and as a drunkard. I, however, came to find that she was in fact in the arms of another, and not only this, but they were to be wed! And what could be worse? What could a righteous man do? I supposed that I should stop this foolishness and crawl back into the bottle. He was a man, a stable man with a large pocketbook, a man with connections and power and who could choose his own destiny. The only thing this man lacked were my vices. And so I settled upon the fact that she was no longer mine. Once my mind had taken this to the burying yard I was free to move on, as my mulling had allowed the grass to grow under my feet. Into a coma I fell, of dizzying nights of mescal and absinthe and India pale ale, rum and white lightning notwithstanding. The comforting legs of women kept me warm, at least in body. My emotions and soul became part of the atmosphere around me, not even attempting to invade the poison in my body. I would have kept on this path until death, save the constable taking me in. And then things took a most unexpected turn.

More next week

[Resident Asshole]

Final Act

Upon mescal calling me to accept another man's challenge to a race to the death, I found myself hauled off to be imprisoned. I’ve often found it ironic that I had been what I thought a man by accepting his challenge, and yet here I sat in irons while he ran about freely. When seen before the judge I found that the judge was burdened with a childhood of beatings from an abusive alcoholic. Even through appeals of myself being a loyal public servant since secondary school, this did not bode well for me and I received the full sentence possible. However, when seen before the judge I found that the very girl who had pierced my heart was in the employ of the court to which I was bound. Fate or bad luck, I could not tell which, but I knew this would be a point of turning. She held me up during my darkest days, when everyone around me looked down at me and the months seemed like years. After it all, she encouraged my return to society, gently chiding me for my foolhardy ways and yet encouraging me to retain my manhood. We began to see each other in secret, not being able to expose our relationship to my captors. She divulged to me a secret, something which caused my conscience much distress. It was said that in her soul she was in love with me, while her mind told her she should love the man whom her family had chosen for her to wed. An age old story, the heart and the mind do not always align and can you force them? I told her it was her mind to which she should listen, for I could give not what he could. And yet I doubted myself, I desired to give this woman happiness.

Time plowed ahead, and as the day of her wedding approached she told me that she would go through with the motions for her family and yet without a signed certificate it would not be legal. Her family was very insistent that I was just a whim and that she must marry the other. At her persistence in this matter I began to realize that I could offer her more than anyone else in the world could, I could offer her a joining of the souls, and not a house of gold could outweigh such a thing. To this end she asked me to come to the wedding’s reception, a strange request to be certain. I arrived early to drink this man’s bier, and drink I did. A look at the ballroom and the schedule showed that he had indeed dug deep in his pocket to marry her. Upon the announcement of the movement into the ballroom I decided to move to the hotel bar as I could certainly not sit at a table and watch the dancing, the happy dancing. As the last of my beer streamed down the bottle I ran outside and as I rounded the corner saw the wedding party arrive. I could not look at them, and only one of them recognized me. I debated to go back inside but decided it better to ruin only my own enjoyment than that of 300. It was later relayed to me that after I left she refused to take the first dance with her husband and instead came outside and waited for me. She cried and waited and I did not arrive. Finally upon going back inside she found that in her absence the very judge who had so easily tossed me aside, and who was a guest that day, had taken it to heart to sign the marriage certificate, thus legally marrying the two. Once finding this out I declared to myself to no longer join with her. And yet, she made it clear that her feelings had not changed. She asked me to move with her, from the countryside to a big city on the western coast with mountains and hills and where she would be in the employ of a federal judge and I would not be looked down upon for my public service. A land of wine country, of sunshine and no judgment. It seemed too good to be so, and I thought of it often. And then came the day when her husband was out of town. I was invited to come and visit with her. After some drinks I decided to go, and after more drinks I went, with a heavy heart. As the night proceeded in a blur, the thing I remember most is waking up in her husband’s bed and it being all too comfortable. That was the end of it all for me, I have not seen her since and the bottle is my lady now. Regrets are for those who do not wish to learn, wisdom is for those who have conquered their regrets. I think I have a bit of both, but not so much as I would like. May the future hold something bad, let us turn it to wisdom.

[Crystal]

I am going to have to read this later. I love the flow of how you write (or type), however, I was confused in the first act. I thought you were saying you were the homewrecker, and then the "she" seemed to turn into Bourbon, and it ended up being reflective, and that is where I was lost. I love how you write though. Let me (god forbid, I know!) undrunk up and I will come back to this with a better perspective.

[Resident Asshole]

For those abouyt to rofk we salut u.

[andremoon41]

Amazing story but the art of writing gives it extra edge. Keep it up!

[Jim]

"I almost forfeited the contents of my stomach on her nightstand"

Brillant !

It's not a drinking tale without mention of such dreaded upheavers.

Enjoying your story !

[oldsmartskunk]

Again a great story buried deep under countless drunk escapades. I can relate to it to some point, but after my first long - term relationship i have never been the same. I simply don't care that much. I mean i don't care enough to be heartbroken. This is a poetical tale about love and alcohol. I love how you mix them both. I would read your book. Or listen to your drunk philosophy.