Sorrow Can Swim
“Seven days past New Years and you’re still drunk? We’ve really got to clean you up, Sam.” A golden voice from a brown haired angel came from behind him. Sam turned around in a drunken whirl and smiled. But before he could come up with at witty catchphrase she had picked up an empty glass among the collection on the table and held it in her hands.
“God, how much have you spent already on drinks?” she asked disgustedly, replacing the glass. Sam just laughed.
“Not enough to drown every last one of those sorrows.”
“Oh, shut up,” she said sitting across from him and taking off her gloves. “Now I remember why I left you, everything was about booze and sex. Jesus, you haven’t changed a bit.”
Her hair was in a low bun at the base of her neck and her coat was unbuttoned to reveal her khaki business suit and blue shell.
“Still working at the library?” Sam asked, putting down his now empty glass.
“Yes,” she sighed, “but I really came here to see how you’ve been fairing. It’s been two months since he died.”
“He was your boyfriend.”
“And your brother. I can move on, but you’ve lost someone so dear to you…” her voice trailed off into the din of the noisy bar.
“My brother and I were never that close.”
“Of course you were. Look how much alcohol you’ve consumed. You’ve got to be at least twice the legal limit. You just never forgave him for dating me after I left you. And yes, I take the blame for the end of our relationship and everything that you’ve become. I know you’ve gotten worse at this drinking game you play with your demons.”
“Always been poetic, huh, Diane?”
She started to button up her coat again. “You don’t care.”
“Is it that I don’t care or you’re not willing to work with anyone different from you? I was never perfect and I always drank and yet, you were convinced you could help me. Even then, you never gave me a chance to talk to you about my problems. You never gave up your time to help me and I just gave up on you being my savior. Then you called it off and went with my brother. It isn’t the fact that you went with him; it was just that you corrupted him to think like you. He never looked at me the same way again. So yes, I’m upset at his death, but seeing you will make it worse. No, not because you left me for him. But because you will make my pain worse by true indifference which you hide as aid.”
There was a pause where no other conversation continued. She put her gloves on and stood up. “And a happy New Years to you, too,” she said angrily and walked out of the bar.
