That Spark

THERE

Last warning . . .

The words keep ringing in my head over and over again, and I admonish Ellie in my head more times than the number of reminders.

Gritting my teeth, I dunk the nasty looking plates into the green tub; the color almost mocking me.

I grumble again.

I happen to have only half a hangover; I can give fractions to my headaches because I am familiar with them from the run in every week.

So it stands to reason that if I had finished the rest of the green sloshy thing in the pitcher that Ellie had given me, I'd be for once, sober from the pain.

That is what is bugging me; apart from the fact that the diner's manager, Tim had threatened to fire me this morning if I was ever late to work again--we were short staffed as it was and Tim had no limitations in the number of job applicants. So that leaves me in a minefield, and every step I take means life or debt--and I blame Ellie for it. But I am mad at myself for not listening; no wait, trusting her and chugging the stuff down and saving myself from a world of pain.

So, in my pounding head, that balances out Ellie's err, and I decide that she is forgiven. Ellie spends way too much time in asking if she was, so I was glad that I had reached this conclusion quite early and I can hurl it at her the minute I get home.

Getting home--now that's another thing that's bugging me.

"Mike!"

I glance over my shoulder to Terry's summon.

"Table 3!"

He points to the last booth, where the seat has just been occupied by a young couple. I rush with the tub and drop it off in the back of the kitchen and then stand by table 3, with my order pad in hand.

"Good evening. What can I get--"

"We'll have two of the specials."

The guy speaks, not even bothering to look at me. He has his eyes buried in the girl's sitting in front of him--on would be a better preposition, really--and it was crystal clear that his head was way up her-

"As you wish. Coming right up." I smile more to my own amusement, and head back to the kitchen and pass the order on to old man Gill, before returning to table 3 with water.

The couple hasn't moved an inch; I quietly fill up the glasses and stand at a distance, unknowingly gazing at them.

Something fires upstairs amidst the ache, and I realize that I am staring into the passed side of the mirror.

For all I know, the couple sitting at table 3 was Ellie and I not four years ago.

We had started out strong--and I don't mean just under the covers. I used to think that Ellie and I actually had 'something'. What's it called? . . . Ah. That spark.

But it had extinguished much too quickly, and the ashes got blown into time until they gradually disappeared.

I suppose I have always been doing messed up crap while I'm drunk--even talking back to four years ago to that night.

I had been mildly drunk but more than tipsy, and was trying to remember Reggie's address in hope that he'd let me crash at his place for the night because my landlord had kicked me out for 'non-payment of bills'. I was walking down the street at midnight, kicking empty soda cans and then cursing when I'd miss, when I heard her voice for the first time.

It was a shrill scream, but even my disconnected ears picked up that it was muffled. I thought it was all in my head at first and I probably wouldn't even have bothered if I wasn't face to face with it after I turned a corner.