PRESIDENT'S SON AND I

3: His Dumpster

ZAFIR

The only one person I can't kill in this world, is trying to get on my nerves. Wait, he is on my nerves and it was taking a huge toll on me not to yell at him to get the hell out of my sight. But damn it, I respected him a lot to only stop at acting annoyed and bored of what he was saying. The conversation had been going on for four days now and I'm honestly bored of being tortured every single day with the same damn words.

"I don't know why we have to keep on getting over this conversation with you, Zafir," he said for the umpteenth time and I wonder when he would stop blabbering about this thing and let me rest in peace. Well, if I could really rest in peace, like eternally, that would be so much better, honestly.

"That's because this is a pointless conversation we're having with you, Jamal. I don't understand why you'll be bothering me with this, despite knowing that I'd never do what you want me to do..." He sighed and slumped on the sofa I'm seated, pulling away the bottle of beer from my hand and I growled angrily at him.

"I thought you promised that you've stopped?" He said with accusation laced on his tone. He rarely accused me or tried to judge me. But whenever he did it, I'm quite sure that he had a very tangible reason to, so it had never made me angry.

And right now, according to Jamal, his tangible reason is-I was a bit intoxicated, and I insisted that I wasn't and drove the car back home. Then we got into a slight accident that involved a girl and a baby-that's what he told me, at least. And now, he was angry that I didn't get to see the lady that bumped into us, because my head was clear enough to see her running on the road carelessly as though she owned it. So, it wasn't entirely my fault, was it?

"I said I'd stop by the end of this year, Jamal. You probably wasn't paying attention when I was talking," I sulked and snatched the bottle back from his hand.

He pulled his hands into his face and sighed outwardly. "I honestly don't know what's wrong with you, Zafir, but this is what you said last year. The year before that, the year before...and it keeps going on for how many years now? Count it yourself!" He yelled, outraged.

I had lifted the bottle to take a swig of it when his yell echoed inside my ears and out of the respect I have for him, I kept the bottle down and stared at him. He was angry, at me and what I've turned myself into. If only he knew how angry at myself I was, too. He didn't know about half of the things I've had to deal with in my life and he had no right to tell me how to live in my grief. It was mine for a reason.

"Get out of here, Jamal." I clenched my eyes shut and leaned back on the sofa, not wanting to see the expression that would spread over his face. I rarely acted this way with him, but sometimes, I couldn't help myself being me when it came to him as well.

If it was someone, he or she wouldn't be surprised that I asked them to get out. Rather, would be thankful that I didn't yell the words out at them, I said it in a rather gentlemanly way.

"You really need to get some help, you're slowly killing yourself." He said through gritted teeth and I didn't open my eyes until I heard the way he banged the door closed.

I knew I'd have to call him later to apologize, or maybe I wouldn't. Because one thing I've been slowly and painfully realizing was, the more I get addicted the more even the traces of the insignificant goodness in me; which I only showed to Jamal or in better words, which only Jamal brought out in me-kept vanishing the more I drown myself in my addiction. And to me, it was good not to have a conscience. I wouldn't be able to feel that searing pain if I drown myself more and more.

And right now, as everything tried to run back to me, reason because I had been clear headed for almost an hour, I donned all the contents of my bottle and instantly, the world began to swirl around me. This was the feeling that was second to none for me. That feeling of floating atop the ocean and not being able to drown. And sometimes, it felt as though I were walking delicately on the clouds and then not falling back on earth.