It was four in the morning. My eyes were wet with uncontrollable tears. Each time the emotions hit me it felt like I was performing for an invisible audience. When I became aware of this feeling I’d try to stop my crying only to realize each time that these tears were real tears and they were going to form out of my eye socket then roll down my face whether I liked it or not.
I pulled at the sub zero fridge handle until the suction let loose. Scanned the contents. I almost never eat cream cheese. There is always cream cheese. And lemonade. A pad of ground beef. A steak. Leftover sriracha/oyster/soy sauce mixed in a dipping cup. So many sauces. So many sodas.
I decide on coca cola and a glass of ice. The can I grab says Legend on it where it should say Coca Cola. I stare at it. Look at the three other cans of red. I wonder if they all say Legend.
I set the Legend back in the fridge and pick up another can. This one says Soulmate. I hold the can for a minute. Deciding if I want to be a soulmate or a legend.
I look at the third can. Twist it. It says BFF. That leaves me standing in front of the open fridge for three minutes trying to decide what I wanted most: to be a BFF, to be a Soulmate or to be a Legend. It is a difficult and complicated decision that will be decided by which can I choose.
The ice in the glass has sweat now. That will make me lose out on that optimal first sip where the fizzy cola hits the fresh frozen ice and lets off that spicy sugar gas. I get a new cup with new ice and walk downstairs with all three cans.
One by one I drink the cans. No sip quite as good as the first. By the time the Legend is being finished what’s left of the ice is tiny slivers. The rest of the glass gets forced down and I pick up the can. There is one swig left. It is room temperature and flat. I force it down and wash it away with a fresh cigarette.
The cigarette gets finished in bed. The butt gets dropped in an empty water bottle. One of five that rest in the place where most beds have a second person. The cap twists shut and the bottle is set back where someone’s head should be. Should have drank water. I look at the empty space and shiver from the cold. The blankets have not warmed me yet. Who is keeping her warm right now? Why not me.
Mike and Mike are on ESPN talking about Josh Gordon being high and domestic violence and switches. A guy making $10 billion a year for his company is not doing his job right. There are no plans for today. There is nothing on the horizon. It’s ok though, I still let my eyes close. The light fades away. The sound of the tv replaced by racing thoughts. My face squinches together tightly. The rims of my eyes get wet. I gasp on a little air and sleep.