Charade

Benji

I listened to the street's heartbeat pulsing out of the nightclubs and bars running along its sides. People were out on the street smoking, selling, laughing, stumbling, or making out on the curb. The world, for whatever reason, had been doused in some kind of golden haze. Everything was shiny and foggy and beautiful, all at the same time.

I brought a bottle of Russian vodka to my split lips, feeling the sting and the burn followed by a warmth in my gut. I was drunk. So very, very drunk. I was drunk enough to laugh at things that weren't remotely funny and fall over things that weren't actually there. Clutching-the-grass-so-you-don't-fall-off-the-earth-drunk, as Ashley would say. The night was glorious and blurry and oblivious – just the way I needed it to be.

At two a.m., I found myself sitting on a swing in a park, with half a bottle of vodka in one hand and cigarette in the other. With foul breath, I exhaled into the shadows, watching the smoke twirl into the night sky.

My phone buzzed in my pocket.

"What?" I answered, not checking the caller ID.

"Benny," Ashley greeted. "Where are you? I'm in town. Thought we could catch up."

"It's two a.m. How the fuck did you know I was awake?"

"Because I had to put up with your bullshit insomnia for six months when we were living together."

I laughed.

"Yeah, I forgot about that."

Ashley paused.

"You drunk, Benny?"

"What? No."

"Don't bullshit me."

"I'm not! I am totally one hundred percent almost sober."

"Ugh, what the fuck, Benny? I thought you gave up that shit."

"Yeah, I just told you that so you'd stop nagging me about it."

I could feel Ashley's disapproval through the phone. It was amusing.

"I'll quit tomorrow, I promise."

"You're an addict," she said.

"No I'm not. I only drink on holidays and non-holidays. It's not a big deal."

"Fine, whatever. Where are you?"

"Some park somewhere. I dunno."

"You don't even know where you are? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"May I remind you of the time you woke up in Indonesia? At least I know what fucking country I'm in." I paused, considering. "This is Australia, right?"

"Oh my god," she sighed. "Just tell me the street."

I narrowed my eyes at the curb.

"Uh, Edgington, I think. It's kinda hard to read."

"Be there soon. Don't move."

***

Ashley, I liked to think, is that one person within thousands that simply confuses the shit out everybody else.

To say that was what I like about her would be a lie, but it was what I understood about her. Ashley was raised by two unstable parents and with three younger brothers: Jacob, Lukas, and Jackson. As far as the world was concerned, they were your typical white-picket fence, apple-pie family, but everything changes behind closed doors.

Ashley's father was a drunk and gambler, and it wasn't unusual for him to take his losses out on those closest to him. Many a time had come when I met Ashley and saw the bruises he left behind. She'd always been raised with love and abuse going hand in hand, which was not something she took with her now, but I still saw the traces in her actions and words.

She never hit me, but there were things she did that made me wonder. She was the kind of person who would scold you while she tucked you in for the night, or call you an asshole while making you breakfast. She was always loving and bitter at the same time, sometimes one more than the other, but she loved deeply and whole-heartedly and selflessly, the same way I did.

Her car came to a stop at the edge of the park. By now, my bottled alcohol level was low while my blood alcohol level was high, and I stood up off the swing to hug her, only to fall on my face in the bark chips. I groaned.

"Shit," I said, getting to my feet.

I picked the bark chips out of my cheek and felt no sting, only to look up and see Ashley.

"What is wrong with you?" She asked.

"Hey," I smiled drunkenly.

"Jesus," she said, waving a hand in front of her face. "You need a tic tac or something."

I threw my arms around her, pulling her into my chest.

"I missed you," I murmured.

Ashley wrapped her arms around me. I could feel her smile.

"You too, sasquatch... Now get off."

I pulled back and examined her.

"You look shorter." I told her.

"Not my fault you grew a metre. And don't get any smart ideas – I can still kick your ass."

"You wish, bitch."

"Come at me, bro. Let's see who wins."

I laughed.

"Nah, too drunk."

"Obviously," she sighed, her tone changing ever so slightly.

"Oh, fuck," I exclaimed.

"What?"

"You're gonna be a bitch now and make me go home and sober up now, aren't you?"

"Benny, what the hell are you talking about?"

"Oh, come on. We both know what that voice means. It means, 'I'm going to be a boring bitch and cut Benji off because I'm an asshole'."

"I didn't even say anything!"

"Yeah, but you was thinking it. Don't deny it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I actually brought something for us."

Ashley pulled her bag around and flipped it open, revealing a fresh bottle of Russian Vodka.

"It's your favourite," she grinned.

"Look," I told her. "I love you and all, but there's no way I'm gonna drink all that."

"Good, because it wasn't all for you."

With the crack of the lid, Ashley tipped up the bottle and inhaled its insides. It was too much too quick, even for my standards. I grinned.

"Party girl's still got it, hey?"

"Hell yeah."

© A.G. Travers 2015