{Cason}

 

What I hate the most is the crappy music on this bar. I’m sitting on the counter and drinking alone. I’ve been rude to every girl who either came up to me, or was hitting on me. I’m not in the mood for other girls. Screw them! The only girl that I care about upset me. And I don’t think that we’ll be able to recover from that.

I order another vodka, when Remember I Told You fills the room.

“I don’t want to be rude or anything, but can you turn the fucking music down.” I tell to the bartender.

He looks at me (I’m drunk as fuck) and says. “Sorry, sir. It’s not up to me.”

“Well, I’m saying the music is bothering me, so make this your fucking issue and take care of it!” I yell at him. Of course, he’s got nothing to do with my issues. But I just need to take it out on someone, don’t I?

When I take my next drink in one gulp and order another, he says to me. “I’m sorry sir, but I don’t think I should give you more.”

“Does your job description implies telling customers what they need to do? Keep your shitty comments to yourself. You’re a fucking bartender. So do what you’re supposed to do and give me my drink.”

“With all due respect, but I can’t do that. And I’d suggest you take off, or I’m gonna need to call security.”

“What are you? A fucking pussy? Calling security? That’s ridiculous.”

I’m mumbling indistinctively when I feel the hands of two men grabbing me by my arms and forcing me to get up.

He called the fucking securities.

I try to fight them, but I’m dunk, so I don’t think it comes upon as I expected.

I’m out of the bar, and I can’t drive. I don’t know who I should call. There are plenty of names on my phone that would just piss me off.

I’ve changed. Somehow I don’t enjoy the company of random girls anymore. Keira did this to me, made me fall for her and then left me miserable.

And I can’t call Dustin obviously, since he’s still in the hospital, because of what I did to him in my office. I haven’t seen him ever since.

I want to. I miss him. But just like what I did to Keira, I made him hate me too.

I’ve been giving it a lot of thinking lately, and I’ve come to determine that what I did was stupid. I just ruined everything. I just took up with my enraged impulse and made all the people that I care about go away from me.

But I feel like this is irrecoverable.

Like what can I say? Dustin, my dear friend, I’m sorry that I ruined your face and that I beat the crap out of you. I’m sorry, please forgive me. But this scenario seems more impossible when it comes to Keira. I visualize how this conversation would be like. Oh, Keira. My love, I was such a jerk, made you feel worthless, like crap. Denigrated you in ways that are just unforgivable. But, hey, give me another chance, because, why not?

Yeah, this is just futile. And I brought this to myself.

I call Cody and wait from him to pick me up.

I’m so drunk, I think at some point, I’ll start to take a nap on the street.

 

 

“You’ve got to think about your reputation man,” Cody tells me, as I rub my eyes with my palm. I’m not sure of how many hours I’ve been sleeping.

“Fuck my reputation, my life is ruined.”

He’s encumbered into his laptop, and I don’t know why he has to be so workaholic all the time. I don’t remember what happened after the bar, but I guess that he must’ve helped me home and stayed here to make sure I was okay.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“I’m checking all the tabloids. Do you remember anything about last night?”

“Ughh,” I groan. “Not sure.”

“I found you lying on the streets man. Sleeping like a homeless guy. Like that would be like gold for the paparazzi. And it would damage your image considerably.”

“That’s messed up.” I say, and eventually try to remember what drove me into this condition. Oh, yeah. Keira.

“May I ask,” he proceeds. “I’ve worked for you for quite a while now. Never saw you in this condition. What happened?”

“I screwed over everything that I had.”

“So, try to fix it.”

“I’m not sure whether there’s coming back from here.”

“There’s recovering from just about everything in the world. You just have to put your mind to it. Make it right.”

“You don’t understand. I probably fucked up the face of my friend, and he’s going to need lots and lots of plastic surgery to recover from that. And what’s more, I don’t think that he really deserved it. I did it out of rage. I was mad at him for doing something he didn’t know was wrong.”

“Mhmm, this is really fucked up, man. But you won’t fix it by staying here and thinking of how bad a behavior this was. You have to own up to it. And probably do what we are so afraid to do sometimes, apologize.”

I think about what he’s saying for a moment. I stay there immovably for a couple moments, sitting at the edge on my bed, blanket lying on my things, and come to determine that he’s right. I should make this right. And I should do this right now.

“Cody,” I try to grab his attention from his laptop. He moves his head asquint and looks at me.

“Hmm?” he says.

“Thanks. I think you’re right.”

A huge smile takes place on his face.

“And that’s why you’re fired.” I tell him and look at how shocked he must look like.

His face goes from excited to terrified. “Why is that?”

“For the sake of recovering. I don’t think I need to keep the life of the people I love under wraps.”

There’s a smile on his face, as he’s coming to eventually figure my reasons. “Well, the day would come anyway.” He tells me.

“Come on,” I mock, trying not to let the situation look so dramatic. “I got a friend from all this. And you can come up to me whenever you need something.”

“Well, thanks man.” He smiles.

I get up from my bed and realize that it’s about time that I make this right. I should organize the mess I made. Effective immediately.