Time to go

Tim

I felt that I had already gotten pretty drunk, and you were sitting next to me, you were already completely drunk, but you continued to drink glass after glass - hot, sweaty, tipsy, smelling of cigarette smoke...
Opposite I saw my wife's face... a pale face with a large moving mouth and dark eyes... She was not having fun, she was looking somewhere in front of her and waiting. She was waiting for us to leave.

- Tim, let's drink a little more!
You pour the swill into glasses and grab yours to clink with mine.
- For you and me!
Your fearless, intoxicated look right into my eyes, and then your hand under the table, as if by chance, lay on my thigh, and then its journey was well worked out .... you did this many times.
With your other hand you tip the glass into your mouth.
With drunken courage you raise your hand higher and higher. You stroke there, more and more insistently...
My wife is sitting opposite.
I throw my head back, gasp for air, you're making me crazy again. It would seem that I have known you for so many years, I have already seen everything, everything has been studied far and wide, but still - your endless thirst for pleasure, your desire to surrender and fulfill all my whims, your passion and extravagant courage still strikes me like thunder .
- Let's go out!
You whisper right into my ear, caressing me through my trousers, your fingers sliding over the moisture that has appeared from your touch...
It is unbearable.
I stop your hand. I look at you. Are you upset ? You're drunk and horny and you're ready for anything now. I remember for a second how you moan when I penetrate you with my fingers, and how you hurry me, begging to take you... Everything inside is clenching with desire...
Still, I shouldn't have drunk so much today... and even in front of Jayne... I need to stop while I still can stop, it's time to leave.

I get up - my head is spinning, I take a few deep breaths, pulling my hoodie lower so that my condition is not noticeable, and come to Jayne. She is raising her head and looking at me - a prickly, cold gaze, angry pressed lips. Is this the human I love? I turn to you - in your gaze there is a wild fire of desire and resentment, and tenderness that promises the most forbidden pleasures, and drunken insolence...
You jump up and grab me by the sleeve, shaking the bottle:
- Tim, wait, let's drink one more. Let's drink this up!
And you pour the rest of the bottle, also pouring to Jayne. Your hand no longer obeys and you pour by , then accidentally touching it, you turn your glass over, but you manage to grab it and not completely pour it, and you look at me, smiling triumphantly, as if you had performed a difficult circus trick.
At this second I don't even know whether I love you more or hate you.
Jayne defiantly puts down her glass and looks at me tiredly:
- Tim, we'll be late for the train. You said it wouldn't be long...you were promise you'd drink a little...
Yes, I promised. Damn it, I promised!
I clink glasses with you and swallow the scalding liquid.

***
You were promise, Tim! - you're all flushed, your eyes are burning ... and I'll burn in hell for the thoughts that come into my head when you easily jump onto my lap and hug me around the neck.
You look into my eyes.
- You were promise, Tim! Teach me how to play 'Bridge over the troubled water' and I can sing it while accompanying myself.
You fidget on me, smiling and turn around to sit at the piano as it needs.

You are 13. Already 13, just think! But you are still a child - a fearless, radiant, affectionate child who does not know refusal in anything. From your smile and funny chatter, even unfamiliar saleswomen in stores forget about their work duties, and one day, quite recently, you asked for two ice creams and spoke to the saleswoman so that she forgot to take money from you. You came running to me, treating me to melted ice cream and, laughing, told me this story. And I watched how you licked the ice cream, getting half of your face dirty, and how, without any embarrassment, you licked your sweet fingers, and I wanted to watch it forever. I don't know why, I guesse there is something wrong with me.

Now you have become embarrassed to sit on my lap, as you always did before, but sometimes you forget and jump up like this... And then my heart beats so that it can probably be heard on the next street.

I'm 16. I'm taller than everyone in my class. And perhaps taller than everyone else in the school. And I already have a real beard growing. My mother gave me a razor for my last birthday. And I study better than anyone in my class - they call me 'nerd' because I constantly read books, even in foreign languages. Or is it because of my damn glasses. I can play the piano, guitar, flute, drums, bass... I also write songs and sing a little. Although I don't like my voice. But I like yours. You sing great. You always sang great. Although mom grumbles that you sing too loud.

It's finally the holidays and we are at home. Mom brings us a piece of chocolate pie. You immediately grab your piece and mumble 'thank you, Margaret' with your mouth full.
Yes, I promised to teach you how to play some stuff of my Paul Simon songbook.
Come on, let's study.
Just don't fidget on me like that, I beg you, otherwise I'll explode.

***
- Tim, we're leaving! Our stop!
In my sleep I can hear the noise of a slowing train and the scream of my wife trying to push me away and wake me up. Did I fall asleep on the train? Where is Tom? I look at the station that appears, I can't figure out a thing, I feel even drunker than when I got on the train. Jayne again:
- Tim, get up, let's go, our stop!
I can not get up. Not now. Let me sleep. I had such a good dream. Mom's chocolate cake, our old piano and Tom on my lap...

Leave me alone, Jayne, please ... Maybe the dream will continue ?...

Jayne shouts something again and pushes me, the people in the carriage begin to look around at us - I feel it rather than see it.

Pfffff...Okay, okay, I'm getting up...stop! Yes, this is not our stop, we haven't arrived yet... I'll sleep for now...
I say and I get angry to myself how tongue-tied I am now:
- Jayne, thisss is not our... stop... Where... where is Tttttom?

She drags me to the exit again, but it's too late. The doors closed and the train moved on. I read the letters of the name running past - this was our stop. And this is the last train. An angry whisper reaches me:

- You're always causing problems. Now we'll have to walk back, and I even should drag you... you can't stand on your feet... look at you, what you've turned into !
How can I look at myself? I look at her. I don't see my beloved girl anymore . That's not her. It's not me who has turned. She's the one who turned into that angry, disgusting broad.

- Where is Tom?

The same whisper:
- And all you are interested in is where your beloved Tom is! Where is Tom? Tom continued drinking. He didn't want to leave, there was a company of girls gathered at the next table, they recognized him... Well, he can't live without performing...
the show must go on... He's probably already fucking one of them somewhere... or two... and he forgot to think about you.

I remember your gaze full of desire... Yes, you will not miss the chance to have fun, you need release.
But how could I go and leave you alone in this state?...

How I hate myself for striving to be good for everyone.

We need to come back and pick you up!
I jump up, rush towards the exit, I feel sick, I stumble and fall right on Jayne, accidentally hitting her on the head with my elbow, she screams in pain, people in the carriage are staring at us (it's good that there are not many people), but now it's a stop and we're leaving...
Jayne is crying... It turns out that I hit her in the temple and in the eye with my elbow.
I'm hugging her... My little animal, it's you... how did I get to this point?
Forgive me, forgive me...
now we'll take a taxi and soon we'll be home.
I kiss her eyebrows, cheekbones... We'll go home. It's time to go.