The whiskey scorched all the way down as he took another swig. He almost fell over as he ground out his cigarette. That brought him face to face with that photo of her in that navy blue dress.
“I can’t believe you’re gone.”
A sob escaped causing him to slump into his recliner.
“We were so good together.”
Putting down the bottle, he picked up her image and gave it a sloppy kiss. He went to put it carefully back down, but instead, he fumbled it. The photo tumbled to the tiled floor, shattering the glass. He groped for the now naked photograph, cutting his hand, but undeterred, he snagged it. He sucked on the blood while staring into the picture’s eyes.
“You enjoyed that didn’t you, hurting me again?”
He picked back up the bottle and pounded what was left. Snatching his lighter he set fire to her visage.
He watched her burn, yet even when the flames reached his fingers, he couldn’t let go. Not even when she was just ashes.
“I told you I’d do anything to make you stay.”
He showed his fingertips to the navy blue urn on the bookshelf.
He picked up his beer bottle and cried. Today had been such a rollercoaster. He closed his eyes and relived their last conversation.
“I can’t believe you bought that,” she said.
He cradled his prize like a baby. “Why not?” he asked.
“Just put that beer back or I’m going to leave you.”
“But it’s not just a beer.”
“What is it then?”
“Look, it’s in a copper bottle. See?” He slightly shook it in front of her face.
“You really want to do this again after the last time?”
“You’re the one wanting to do it again. I am just getting my beer.”
“I can’t handle this. It’s become a ridiculous habit. Look, it’s either the beer or me.”
She placed her balled fists on her hips and cocked her head to the side. “Do I look like I’m joking?”
He looked at the empty bottle of Sam Adam’s Utopia. She had left him, but now so did the beer. Life just wasn’t fair. He wondered if he could get her back. He opened his wallet to see if he had the $150 to buy another bottle. Nothing was there.
John was the master of his universe. He controlled his schedule. He would sometimes miss meetings just to show the others there who was really important.
He came and went as he pleased, and everyone had to react to his timeline, or he would ignore them out of existence. Most people couldn’t handle being treated like that, but John didn’t care. It was all about him damn it.
At least that’s what he told himself as he downed the rest of the bottle. As he staggered down the street, he wondered how much he could hock his AA pin for.