I tell Sylvia all about Kate and her family, particularly about Bobby and his close relationship he had developed with Eddie after only a few years. As always, she is undeniably supportive and kind. The two of us wind up going to a bar as a minor celebration of my account being opened up again. I at least have my personal account, so I can finally take Sylvia on a date. It’s nothing too lavish; it had actually been her idea to go to some sleazy bar to drink and listen to some music by a shitty local band while stuffing our faces with fattening bar food. As athletes, we rarely treat ourselves to such foods.

Dinner is kind of depressing despite the upbeat music. I have too much to complain about, and the beer is cheap. Halfway through dinner Sylvia’s phone starts going off. It’s her boss. She tries shrugging it off, but it keeps ringing. “I’m sorry,” she says, “I got to answer this.” She steps out of the bar and returns just a few minutes later with this pout on her face. “James, I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

I understand, and I tell her I’ll see her later. Now I just have one more excuse to be bummed out, so I drink even more. A lot more. As a matter of fact, I think I’m already drunk. I switch from beer to margarita to scotch to vodka…to hell if I know what. I’m mixing my drinks like a dumbass. Soon I’m so drunk that I can hardly keep up with what is going on. I black out for a minute, and the next thing I know I’m in an unfamiliar car.

“What?” I groan loudly, trying to recall how I got here. I am so wasted it’s stupid. There are just literally too many troubles I’m trying to drown all at once.

“Oh just shut up,” I hear a woman say, and I focus and realize my lawyer is driving the car.

“Lillian?” I slur. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s my car, you idiot,” She says and pops me in the ear, making my head spin even worse than before.

I don’t remember what happens next. Suddenly I’m in someone house. Am I at Lillian’s house? Geeze, how much did I drink? How did I get here? Oh yeah, the car… why did she come get me? Did I call Lillian?

“Just be glad you drunk dialed me, you dumbass.” I hear Lillian say, “This would have hurt your case if anyone saw you, you realize that, right?” Suddenly there is a gurgling in the pit of my stomach. I can’t focus enough to actually see Lillian, but I can hear her voice. “No! Hell no! You are not throwing up on my new carpet!”

Somehow this small trash bin appears in my lap, so I make use of it. Oh, tomorrow is really going to suck. Why would I do this to myself? I hear a door open. I look up, and I am able to focus just enough to see another woman entering through what appears to be a front door. Holy hell; she’s gorgeous. She’s tall and thin, and she has short choppy hair that is styled shorted on one side than the other. She’s wearing a white suit jacket and matching tight skirt. “Who’s your friend, Lilly?” she sings as she enters.

“One of my stupid clients,” Lillian says, talking as though I am not even in the room. Am I that far gone?

“Should I call for an ambulance? He looks pretty fucked up.” The woman says.

Damn –she thinks I need a hospital? I must have really overdone it this time if I look that bad. “No, babe,” I hear Lillian say, “He’ll be fine. Just help me watch him, would you? I need a shower. He threw up on my shoes in the car.”

Oops. I threw up on her shoes? Babe? Is this Lillian’s wife? I knew she was a lesbian, and she had shown me a picture in her office once… but I can’t remember what the woman in the photograph had looked like. “Who are you?” I ask, and I can hear how stupid I sound.

“Call me Daisy, cutie.” She says.

“Knock it off,” Lillian warns, “Just watch him so I can go shower, damn!”

“Don’t take it out on me, all right?” Daisy says and plops down next to me on the couch. Lillian disappears, and I’m alone with my lawyer’s wife.

I try to start a conversation with her, but I am not making any sense. She laughs like she thinks I am an absolute idiot. I think I must be to have gotten this drunk –and why the hell did I call my lawyer of all people to come pick me up? Why not Éclair? Why not Eddie… oh, yeah, fuck I’m so drunk! Daisy gently nudges me, and I swat at her like she’s a fly. “Fuck off!” I warn.

Daisy suddenly starts playing with my hair. Is she flirting with me? Maybe she’s bisexual? Surely she is not flirting with me and it’s that I’m just too drunk to tell what’s going on? “What’s wrong? Rough day?” She teases.

I hate drunk me. Drunk me is a little bitch. I have various levels of drunk. First stage is happy. Second stage is still happy but is past the hugging stage and more of the happy so long as no one fucks with me stage. Third stage is really goofy and stupid and thinks that getting on eBay to order random shit for sober me to figure out would be hilarious; this is also the stage where I can either be your best friend or beat the shit out of you if you piss me off. Then there is stage four –so drunk that I become an emotional sack of a man. I rarely get to stage four. I start blubbering like an idiot in front of this complete stranger. I know she can’t even understand what I’m saying, hell, I can’t even understand what I’m saying. I know I’m talking about Eddie. She looks at me with these big puppy-dog eyes, “You poor thing,” she says, “You must be James. Lillian told me about you and your situation. Damn, you’ve got it rough all right, don’t you, big guy?”

Well isn’t she just sweet? This is my rock bottom –crying my ass off on a couch at my lawyer’s house to her lesbian wife while I throw up in a small trash can. I definitely have never sunk this low before. I suddenly smell coffee, and Daisy is taking the trash can away from me and handing me a cup of black coffee. “Thanks,” I say, and she smiles at me.

“Well, well, well,” she says, “that actually sounded like English. Feeling a little better, are we?”

The room is still spinning, but I can at least focus enough to look at her now. I hear Lillian’s voice again. “Thank God,” she says, “I thought I would never get that smell off me. Freaking dumbass.” I turn and see Lillian coming out of a bedroom with a towel in her hair wearing a robe. I must have blacked out at some point because I feel as though she had just walked back to the bathroom to shower. You don’t do a quick rinse when someone throws up on you. You scrub.

“Leave him alone, Lilly, the poor guy is depressed.”

I suddenly start laughing. Like hard. Really hard. Oh my God, make it stop… I can’t stop. Lillian crosses her arms and shoots me this really pissed off face, “What’s so funny all of a sudden, you little bitch? I could hear you crying over my shower head.”

“Your names are fucking Lilly and Daisy!” I laugh. Oh my God, James, stop talking. I can’t. “You’re both named after flowers. That’s the gayest most lesbian thing I’ve ever heard!” Oh for the love of God, why am I still talking?

Lillian does not look amused, but Daisy is laughing right along with me. “Lilly, he’s funny drunk.” She says playfully and puts her hands on my shoulders. I think she’s rubbing my shoulders. Is she rubbing my shoulders? Yes, she is definitely doing that.

I hear Lillian say, “Don’t even fucking think about it.”

Think about what? God, I’m so drunk. “Come on, Lillian, you know I’ve always wanted to-” Daisy sings her response.

“He’s a client, Daisy.” Lillian snaps. “And he smells like puke.”

Suddenly Daisy is not beside me anymore. I think I keep missing chunks of the evening because I don’t remember her ever getting up to leave my side. I can hear the two of them arguing about me in the kitchen. Lillian pours herself a glass of wine, and suddenly I’m in the bathtub with Daisy hosing me off. I don’t remember getting in here. Damn it, how drunk am I? I blame it on the margaritas… and the scotch… and the beer… and myself…

Is she washing my hair? Yup.

Daisy is a little flirt. It’s hard to believe she is with someone as professional as Lillian. They probably balance each other out. “Feeling better?” she asks as she lathers my back and arms with soap. This is really embarrassing. Did I really throw up on myself enough to where she felt that I need a bubble bath?

The next thing I know she’s helping me stand. I have to hold onto her shoulders to get out of the tub without falling over. She wraps a towel around my waist and slowly leads me out of the bathroom saying, “We got your clothes in the wash. Unfortunately, we don’t exactly have any men’s clothes lying around, so I hope the towel is okay.” She giggles.

We enter into the bedroom, and there is Lillian in nothing but this silky robe. She has a glass of wine in her hand. I notice Daisy give her these pleading eyes. Lillian looks at us from across the room, sighs, and puts down her wine. “James… just how drunk are you right now?”

I just shrug my shoulders and say, “Notso drunkthatI can’t f—figure outwhat your w-wife wantssss to do.” My words slur together, but I can tell Lillian knew what I said.

She crosses her arms and looks directly at me, ignoring Daisy who is biting her bottom lip with excitement. Lillian lets loose a long sigh, “And what is it you want to do, James?”

“Fuck it,” I say, “I’mmmm drunk as hell, b-but I’m fuckin game.”