a story

she slipped in the door and slid up against me as she brought her lips close to my ear, pulled my hair back and whispered, or at least tried to whisper.

"hey, i need to tell you something," she said.

instantly i wanted what i smelled on her breath and clothes. a heavy drink and a lung full of cloves. it seemed a nice

"i think i like him." she only slurred a little.
"yeah, well....he seems into you."
"i think he really likes me."

my hair flipped across my face as her hand dropped and she stumbled away from me towards the bathroom. best friend, taking a piss as i went in to talk. i sat on the floor, she sat on....well....

"you know you're drunk, right?" i said.
"yeah...but only a little."
"so you're not just saying all this about him because you're drunk."
"no, for real. i like him."
"you like him?"
"he likes me, and you know that he likes me."
"yes, he has seemed to give off that impression."
"are you jealous?!" she giggled and i waited for slilence to begin.
"promise me you like him and that it's not just the booze talking."
"cross my heart, hope to die....but i don't really want to die"
"no, you won't die. just be careful, okay?" i got up and left, she was drunk but she could get herself out of the bathroom without my babysitting. i waited on the couch.

she curled up and bent her knees over my lap and wrapped her fingers around my left hand.
"promise me you won't hate me if i date him," she said.
"like, i'd ever hate you. come on. you know me better than that."
"i think this is going to be really good."
"yeah, just be careful."
"stop. i'll be fine."
"okay."
"it was perfect tonight. we were perfect. everything was perfect."

we sat quietly, her body almost entirely in my lap as the alcohol sent her into a restful slumber. when her breathing became heavy i stretched her out on the couch and threw my grandma's old afgan overtop of her.

i walked onto the porch. there weren't even any stars to console me. it was cold, i was cold inside. i wanted conversation and hands to keep me warm, but there was neither.

an amber glow flicked across my face as i breathed in the warm sweetness of the clove. the soft burn of smoke in my lungs, throat and eyes. there was a gentle snap as i twisted off the bottle cap and let the dark brew slide down past the lungs warmed by smoke. i felt it fall into my empty stomach, cold for an instant before everything was heat.

it would only take a few bottles before my insides could no longer feel the cold night and my hands were too numb to notice they held a bottle and a clove instead of a hand. if i drank a few more, and if i drank fast, i could forget the memories of lips against my own. soon i would be warm and sweet and spinning.

i love the spins. they help me forget.