Are We Drinking Tonight?

Amazing Tips to Quit Drinking Alcohol for Good

I am drinking tonight. Not to celebrate, not with anyone but so that I do not have to hear these vile thoughts in my ears again. The club is Dreamz Club, quite common in Nyeri. They do not allow male persons below age twenty two to get into the club, perhaps because they are small spenders or have no money, eighteen year old girls are allowed though, a signature move to indicate that the rich, old and powerful need young companions. I am not twenty two, at least not yet, but I will be in the next two years, so I have potential. Then I will be worthy to get into Dreamz Club and drink with attractive young female companions like the rich and powerful.

But not tonight, tonight is everything is different. The night is incredibly clear and the sky is spangled with glimmering stars the moon is hidden though by an approaching mist making the night half heaven and half hell. There is a red consistent haze in my eyes that makes the bouncer glance at me once and let me in, or perhaps I look old or I look like I have a lot of money, either, tonight would not have been a good day to stop me at the entrance. Last time I was here we disagreed with this bouncer, a conversation that had started out as a spark of dissension had quickly become an uncontrollable conflagration and I was thrown out without my wallet.

I get to the counter. Bar-tender looks chatty but I do not want to talk tonight, just give me my whisky and no lime today, I want it dry. I am soaked with perspiration like I came running but I did not, something is wearing me out and I need to get calm, several shots of whisky? Yeah. There is a raucous flamboyant sounding in the background, perhaps music but I am not listening, not tonight, the voices in my head will not let me. I glance at the adjacent tables of the club, young adults, maybe couples toasting and making merry. Nauseating.

And then it comes to me as a slap of reality that had started out as a shit and a giggle. Why did I have to open up my pants? Couldn’t my privates stay in my boxers like they were meant to be? I screwed up and the reason I am here tonight is evidence enough of the filth I had dragged myself into. My phone beeps, text message. I am not going to look at it but I would have if I was clever but it seems I am not clever these days. It rings now, my ringtone a sad song from Tylor Swift

We… Are never getting back together Weeee…. Are never getting back together.

What sort of guy puts Tylor Swift as ringtone, I know I am messed up. It is Mom calling. Oh God. Quickly I dash to the balcony, make a quick lie I was shopping for groceries and there was a lot of noise. Mom lets this one go, perhaps because my voice sounds broken but no way, not even in hell would I be shopping for groceries at 9pm. I am sorry mom. Strangely I am glad she called, someone who still loves me after the shit I had done. I get back to my table.

I sit up, my face smudged with a nasty scowl and my hair tousled like a bad hair day for kinky Nigerian hair. My bottle is quarter way done therefore I am not surprised when I find myself staring at my pants wishing I could cut that thing off. This thing that rises up so fast like a bad idea to put me in shit! I laugh at my thoughts but it is not a happy laugh, there is nothing happy about this night, it is one accompanied by untold grief.

She comes to mind again, graceful body and captivating looks, funny and generous, heavenly smile and beauty. She that was there and no longer is. The strong bond that was once there has faded. A tear freely drops and I do not stop it. People should see me cry and that would barely be punishment enough, this road has no redemption and there is no way to purge myself from this guilt.

I begin wishing I could remember on time she was mean to me so that I could say good riddance. An atmosphere of restless anticipation permeates my mind. A couple begin dancing right next to me sometimes brushing off roughly against me, I let them be, taking out anger on them would most likely land me in jail. Jail sounds more appealing that my haunted empty house. I pick my bottle and glass and walk to a hidden table at the edge of the counter. I can see everyone but almost no one can see me.

I squint at my watch its 12.30 am, my eyes are heavy and I am constantly fighting of the increasing demand for sleep occasionally teetering on the razor edge between deep relaxation and unconsciousness. The despondency is perpetual. The bottle is done. Are we drinking more tonight? I can hardly decide. I should buy a gun and blow my brains off, I check my wallet one thousand two hundred remaining, won’t be enough for a gun or another bottle of whisky. Am confounded.

It hits me I had not eaten anything and am hungry to the point of feeling enervated. I think of ordering Kuku and Mashed potatoes but stop midway, that would be recompensing myself for crimes against humanity. Breaking a fragile heart that had once confessed loving me and pledged eternal loyalty. You see, I had never cheated on her but the one time I did I was caught. I did not even think myself worthy of her forgiveness. Been a writer often makes you sensitive and sentimental on the fact that like art you have everything figured out and explained in words except your emotions.

Two tequila shots and I am headed out, it is already two. I stagger out of the club and wish the bouncer a fruitful night, we are friends now. Do I grab a cab, do I walk home? The town streets are abandoned, I guess not so many drink on Mondays. I do not want anything to make me feel comfort so I clutch my jacket and bury my fingers deep in my pockets and start walking. It is dark now and not even the stars are visible it is quiet, perhaps too quiet, the quiet before an explosion and minutes later there it goes the rain comes falling down.

A beacon of hope, a chance of redemption and a new beginning. And it rains hard watering the dusty roads and cleansing my soul. I will call her tomorrow, a tiny voice whispers and I agree. The rain does not last long, the air now unusually clean and fresh cleansed by the brief but heavy rainfall. I open the door to my house.

Caution: Do not leave your drink unattended in a club!

The Writer

Dennis Peters

Dennis Peters

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12 Comments

  1. Pingback: Moments 2015 | Dennis Peters

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