Little Light

The Spark

Gin and cocoa- I thought it was an odd combination, but I tried it anyway. It was supposed to be sweet and silky and delightful but it had scraped a hot, bitter stream down my throat as I swallowed. I wanted to spit it out almost immediately but father had his eyes fixed on me. He was beaming, so proud that his five-year-old could "hang" with the men. This is what real men do-- he just couldn't wait to get me started.

I fought every impulse to gag as the vile potion sauntered on my tongue and the roof of my mouth. I felt the drool collect from the sides of my cheeks, forcing a smile to keep from vomiting.

Barry, the landlord's second son, took my hand and squeezed it and looked at me with genuine concern. He had just turned 19, his initiation to adulthood probably still fresh in his memory. His eyes were glazed and he slurred when he spoke but despite succumbing to inebriation ahead of everyone, he seemed to be the only one who realized the atrocity that was going on. He pulled me where he was sitting so I was standing between his knees, leaning against his thigh.

One of the other guys poured another half a shot for me as I looked at the glass in terror. I could hear father's cheers, "my son, he's going to do one more drink! That's my boy!"

Barry put his arm around me and shoved the glass with the other, as if to say the joke's over. He smelled like the drink mixed with sweat and heat. Father insisted that I take the last shot and Barry was telling him enough. This discourse, laced with alcohol, the loud, drunken confusion was too much. The world had started spinning around me and gin, cocoa and bits of food poured out of me onto Barry's lap.