Champagne Problems

Chapter 02

'One vodka here, please'
'Yes sir'

It was nauseating. People moved around her. Moved on. Drinks in hand. Toasting celebrations. Happy.

She picked up the champagne bottle again, downing half of it. It made her throat and her stomach and her heart burn. She didn't know what had come over her. Or him. What the fuck had happened?

Oh, she knew what had happened. She'd picked up her bags and left the train as soon as he'd got on his knees. That's what had happened. She just didn't understand why or how.

Was she afraid of commitment? Maybe. She'd never thought that it'd end like this when it started. Heck, she didn't even think it would start. When she'd seen him in a bar (in this very same bar,actually, now that she'd thought about it) she'd never thought that those ocean blue eyes would make her want to sink and drown and die in it. She'd never thought that they'd become a thing. She'd never thought that they wouldn't have been just champagne lovers; strangers who went their separate ways after a few nights together. She'd never thought that she'd spend hours daydreaming about what she thought would be 'just a fling'. She'd never thought that he'd get down on one knee for her.

She was NOT prepared.

She sat there on the bar stool, a half empty champagne bottle in her
hand. She didn't know how long she'd been there. She doesn't know what time it is. She does not have a sense of time.

Had it been seconds, minutes or hours, she never knew. She was absolutely lost in her thoughts. Guilty, angry, confused, sad, disappointed...

She looked at the bottle in her hand. She had half a mind to throw it across the room. But no. She couldn't do that. No more embarrassing herself in public.

It was all because of her goddamned addiction. Why couldn't she have been addicted to something else, like, books or music or video games. But no. It had to be something that left her fucked up in the head. Alcohol. The one thing that made her feel like absolute shit and made her make her loved ones feel like shit.

But here she was again, champagne bottle in hand, looking like an absolute mess and feeling like one too. She knew it was time to stop, but she didn't want to.

She slammed the bottle on the table after taking a final swig. Picking up her bags, she put some money on the countertop and made her way out the door.

She wasn't absolutely drunk. No. Only just enough to not let her thoughts bother her. But it bothered her, nonetheless.

She stumbled her way through the busy street. It was dark, streetlights being the only source of light. Her car was parked right under one.

She fumbled with the car keys, turned on the engine and drove off. The road was not very clear, but it didn't matter because she would reach her house soon. And it didn't matter if on the way she met with an accident and died. Because that's all she wanted to do now. Die.

But she made it to her house, fumbling with her keys again to open the door. Throwing her bags down, she fell asleep right there on the sofa.

Sleep. That was an alternative to dying. The thought of waking up again made her want to throw up, but she'd worry about that later. For now, sleep it is.