Unlasting

Katelyn

"One more, please. Thank you."

Stretching my glass to the bartender for another refill, I saw his expression change to one of displeasure, and if I wasn't so drunk I'd have called him out on it, but screw him, he doesn't deserve any time from my miserable day.

I really messed up.

I can't find my daughter, my husband's left me with our son, and I have no one close enough to share my problems with. I feel even more alone than when I was fifteen and before now I thought that was the worst time in my life, but this beats it hands down.

"Shit," I yell.

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, sorry won't clean this mess you just made on me, now will it?"

I tried to clean out whatever he was having from my faux leather midi skirt.

"Maybe it could. Lemme try one more time. Sorry."

Did I just hear humour in his voice? He spills his drink on me and he thinks that's funny?

I raised my head, eyes burning, ready for a fight when the craziest thing happens. The man, who if I were to guess his age I'd pretty much say twenty-seven or less, held my wrist, pulling the hand that was clenching my just recently refilled glass, and threw it at himself. I almost dropped the glass and I think he knew, because he quickly took it from my hands, while the people around us stared. I was still stunned by what had  just happened, I barely heard what he whispered to our surrounding neighbours.

"Are you stupid? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. You said sorry wouldn't cut it, now we're even." he chuckled.

"You must be sick, and with all the problems in my life right now, I wouldn't be surprised if i had walked into a bar for the mentally insane and didn't know." I huffed.

It may not have been fair to call the guy insane, but my limits with people had gone out the window along with my patience and sanity.

Ironically I was calling a man insane when the crazy one was me.

You've had alcohol brain, stop being logical.

I got up to leave, grudgingly paying the bartender for my drinks, when I felt dizzy. Luckily, hands moved fast to hold me steady.

"I may have had too much to drink." I mutter, not to anyone in particular, but as a way to deal with my very embarrassing state.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention."

I nod at him, avoiding his eyes completely. I almost started a rumble with the bartender after I caught him smirking at the situation, then I remembered how badly the first fight had turned out, so I told myself I would be the bigger person. Funnily, I was the bigger person. The bartender looked the same age as my daughter. It occurred to me that I could probably be his sister's age or his mom's—I couldn't be the only thirty-four year old in the world who had a nineteen year old daughter—i'm sure if I was his mom he'd definitely be ashamed of what i was doing. I know if Brie could see me now, she would be so ashamed. Heck, I was ashamed of myself.

"Can I offer you a bottle of water?"

"I already said thanks. You're not getting a sorry from me for what happened earlier. You did after all get your drink all over my dress."

"Relax. I didn't do it for the thanks and I definitely don't deserve the apology."

He sounded so sincere, it was hard to tell if that was mockery or not.