My lips burn. Then my throat. Disgusting. I don't drink because it tastes good—I drink because it lets me forget for a few hours. Cheers. Six, no, seven shots deep. Ahh, the sweet spot… but it's not enough. I grab the entire bottle—shots are too slow and my thoughts are too loud.
My phone began to light up, but I was in the middle of a game. The text could wait. It always could.
I think I need some fresh air. I lock my apartment door and cast my eyes down at the bottom of these steps… They seem daunting.
When I woke up, I read the flood of messages. Sam was drunk. Most of them didn't make sense—babbling about how good of friends we were, how much he loved me. Typical Sam. Complaints about his girlfriend. Plans for the next year. Then the last message. "Help me." My chest tightened.
The view from here is… breathtaking. I can see it all. The lights, the skyscrapers, the dimly lit stars. I wonder if there's anything more out there… I think I'll take a seat right here.
I rushed over to his place, it was just a block away. I pounded on his door. No response. There was a note taped to the door bell, "We locked the place up - XXXXX Police Department". My fingers traced the words.
Oh, there it is. My vision is blurry. I'm crying again. Haha. Grow up.
I called our boss. Sam was scheduled earlier in the morning than I was. Did this dude do something stupid and get arrested? What am I going to do with this guy… I should let the boss know.
The burn starts at my lips, crawls down my throat, and settles in my chest. It's a fire that doesn't warm—it consumes. They say the taste gets better, but they're liars. Nothing gets better. Nothing ever does.
"Solice? Where are you?" The boss's voice was quivering.
"Uh, I'm at Sam's place. He sent me a bunch of weird messages last night." The boss's voice is making me nervous. "Did Sam get there already?"
I knew what happened the moment I heard our boss's voice. I was kidding myself.
"Solice…" The boss's voice cracked, heavy with something I wasn't ready to hear. Silence stretched between us, unbearable.
"Boss?" my voice was shaking.
"I'm at the store… I wanted to get here before you and…"
"Is Sam…"
"I'm so sorry. I know how close you two were…"
I was a year younger than you Sam. But now we're the same age. This next shot is to the 27 club.
I showed up to work. Everyone was there. They hugged me. Patted my back. Whispered things like 'I'm so sorry' or 'He was a good guy.' Their sad eyes watched me, but their words barely registered. I nodded. Pretended to listen. They felt bad for me. The boss told me to go home and take the next few days off.
I hate you Sam. You could have called me. You should have called me. I would've picked up. We never text.
His girlfriend called me the next day. "Hey, I'm still going through the insurance process, but if there's anything that I think he'd want you to have, I'll let you know and you can pick it up."
That bitch. I didn't want his stuff. I wanted him back. He always knew the right thing to say. He's the one who broke me out of my shell and took me under his wing. He pulled me out of the dark.
I wonder if it would hurt.
It was business as usual when I came back to work. Nothing was different. Customers still came in to shop. Co workers still stocked the shelves. The boss still barked orders. Nobody talked about Sam. Or maybe they just didn't talk about him to me.
My chest hurts. Is this what it feels like to be stabbed? It's been a year. Get over it.
The days grew more and more mundane. I didn't have other friends. I didn't have a family. Maybe that's why Sam and I got along so well. We were alike in so many ways. But he came out at the end of it all outgoing and confident. Couldn't be me.
I miss you Sam. I want to hang out again.
Work, drink, sleep. Work drink sleep. Workdrinksleep…
Work. Drink. Sleep.
What's the point? It's not the same without you… To hell with it all. I'm done.
I'm coming, Sam.
I wonder if it's going to hu—