Page 35 of Chasing Fireflies

I park my truck outside of Banner’s and shut it off. It’s not busy tonight, and I’m glad. I want to have a few drinks without anyone bothering me. It’s hard being married to someone who doesn’t always want to live. It’s hard dealing with her mood swings, her temper, and her outbursts. It’s hard dealing with the highs, and the fucking lows are going to be the death of me. Call me an asshole for bitching about this, but sometimes a man just needs a beer and a night alone. A night without worrying if his wife is going to be too sad when he gets home or if she will be walking the fucking streets because she got lonely. I push the bar door open and walk inside, noticing a few couples dancing together. I head for the bar.

“What’s up, Cash? What’ll you have?”

“Can I get a bottle from you?”

“A bottle?” Banner asks.

“Yeah, rough day.”

“You going to have a ride home?”

“Am I the cop or are you?” I ask him. “I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but just give me the damn bottle.”

He narrows his eyes, but eventually shrugs. “Yes, sir.”

I pay him for the bottle before I take it and my shot glasses and find a faraway booth.

Lining the shot glasses up, I fill each one then place the bottle onto the table. One by one I down the drinks, and in no time I’m piss drunk and staring at the almost empty bottle in front of me. Memories of the past flow through my mind, and I think back on the day I told my parents I was going to ask Sara to marry me.

I walk into the house and kiss my mama on the cheek. She’s in her cooking apron, and the smell of bacon fills the house I grew up in. Old flower wallpaper makes up the walls in the kitchen, and her stove should have been replaced years ago, but she says, ‘Just because something has a little age on it, doesn’t mean you should throw it out. It still gets supper cooked, doesn’t it?’ Dad walks in dressed for work, and I’m glad they are both here.

“I’ve got some news,” I say. They both turn to me, and I bounce my leg because I’m nervous. My parents like Sara okay, but they know about her issues and have expressed their feelings about it more than once.You’ll always have to worry. We want you to be happy. But they don’t understand she is my happy.

“Well, out with it, Cash,” Mama says. I pull a box out of my pocket and place it onto the island. Mama gasps and Dad walks over to the coffeepot.

“I’m going to ask Sara to marry me.”

Mama’s eyes fill with tears, and she sighs like she has been defeated—like all the years she has tried to talk me into having a relationship with some ‘normal’ girl have gone to waste. It was always a pointless conversation, one that I listened to out of respect for her. But one that went in one ear and out the other. I love Sara. Period. You don’t choose love; love chooses you. Once Dad fills his coffee, he walks out of the house. Mama gives me a sad smile. “He just needs some time, baby.”

“Yeah,” I say, grabbing the box and following my dad. “You just going to walk away?” I ask once I’m outside. He opens his car door and looks back at me.

“You’d have me do something else?”

I shrug. “I don’t know, Dad. Maybe tell me congratulations. Best wishes and all that.”

“Best wishes, son.” He grabs his coffee from the top of his car before he gets inside. I watch him drive away, and in that moment I know I am going to be alone in this.

“Cash, son?” I hear and look from the bottle at the chief.

“Oh, look, you’re here,” I say. “Pull up a chair and have a few with me. Oops,” I say, looking down at the bottle. “Think we may need more.”

“I think you’ve had enough.”

“I think I need just one more, though,” I say, tipping the bottle up and downing the rest.

“Let me take you home.”

“Home would be nice,” I say as I go to stand. The floor shifts, and I close my eyes, trying to regain my balance or make my brain not shake so much. “I’m drunk,” I say.

“I do believe you are. Come on. Let me help you.”

I do as the chief says, and he helps me get into his car. He rolls the windows down, and I lean my head out. The night air feels good and helps to defog my cloudy brain.

“You okay?” he asks me after we’re a good ways down the road.

“Been better.”

“Downing a whole bottle tells me this isn’t one of those better times,” he says, and I notice he is taking the long way. I look out at the night sky and sigh.

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