An Uncomfortable Discussion pt.1

An Uncomfortable Discussion pt.1

     Tim sat there, his eyes unmoving from the table in front of him. He silently rolled the empty bottle under his hand. The label had long since been peeled. It sat in damp little piles on the edge of the table. He was mesmerized by the last few drops of beer that rolled in unison with the cylindrical bottle. Tim's vision began to swirl. But the 4% malt beverage wasn't going to take him into the dark.

      "I'm not saying don't drink.", Stacy coaxed across the table. "I''m saying maybe don't drink so much"

     "I know, I know. I have a problem.", Tim muttered. 'But it really is the only thing that quiets the voices."

     Tim and Stacy stared at each other for a brief moment. They both knew what the issue really was. This wasn't about Tim's problem, or Stacy's families judgement of their relationship. No. This was about something else.

     "Just tell them where the cat is, Tim.", Stacy said, clearly becoming frustrated.

     This wasn't the first time she had brought this issue up. It had been almost a year since Tim enacted his master plan to convince Stacy's family to let them get married.

    Last Labor Day, while at her families river house, Stacy had mentioned that her and Tim were beginning to discuss the possibility of marriage. The identical looks of disapproval that were given to them by Stacy's family were only broken from their stone gaze by the sound of a body hitting the pavement. Everyone turned to see Tim lying face down on the driveway, with what looked like blood beginning to pool around his head. Stacy panicked until she realized it wasn't blood, it was strawberry margarita.

     The sad part wasn't the fact that Tim had drank himself to black out fall down drunky drunk town, no, it was the fact it only took him half a margarita to get there. Tim's blood did not synthesize alcohol. Whenever he drank liquor, it fired immediately into his brain, and the effects soon followed.

     "You know we can't approve of that.", Stacy's father sighed. 'Just look at him. He knows what it does, but he keeps doing it."

     "He has to. Otherwise the voices become too much.", Stacy said.

     "Now he hears voices too? Good Lord darling, why not just let this one go?", said Stacy's mother.

     Time did hear voices. He couldn't explain, Stacy couldn't explain it, even the best neurologists in the country could not explain the voices. It was a strange phenomenon that only occurred and certain times. For some reason, he could swear he could hear something talking every time he was near bodies of fresh water. Strange things were said. He always heard them talking about making a way for themselves to rent apartments, and go on benders. He didn't understand, how could he? Most of the time he thought it was just in his head.

     That's why he imbibed today. He knew that being by the river would cause the voices. The last thing he remembers is making overly familiar eye contact with a duck before his vision went black and he felt himself crashing downwards.