Literature

“Shit Charles! Haven’t you gotten over it already? It’s been 3 weeks!”

“It’s not MY fault you decided to go out with your ‘friends’! You always lie and now you’re expecting me to host your stupid, little party like it’s not gonna get the cops’ attention again! I’m not risking it.” Charles shouts.

“You’re always going against my wishes! You never want to do what I WANT. I’m leaving. I can’t handle you right now. Have fun ALONE.”

“FINE! Do what you want for all I care. If hell breaks loose, I’m not affiliated with you or your group!” he states.

The door slams shut, a cold breeze flowing through the house, now with only a man standing on the line of break up.

He wouldn’t know anyway. He just doesn’t get what it’s like to finally be able to drink and hang out with others like me. I’m feeling a tad bit rebellious tonight. I wonder if my friends are thinking the same.

I take my car and drive to the speakeasy. I needed a break.

The door to the speakeasy opens with a password. I enter and find my group of friends sitting in the corner table, like usual.

“Hey sugar. How’s it going between you and Charles?” Margaret asked.

“He’s been a real pain in my ass lately. It’s like he doesn’t trust me anymore! I wanted to set up a small houseparty for us but he said no! Can you believe him?”

“He’s a damned man!” she responded back.

“I know! Ruth, could ya be a doll and hand me a cigarette?”

“I thought you didn’t smoke.” Ruth questioned.

“Obviously. I can’t stand those nasty fumes. I’m not lighting it.”

“You’re missing out on the fun. It’s nice.” told Dorothy.

“I could get the same amount of ‘fun’ dancing on stage. Smoking is tiring anyways.”

“Whatever you say.”

I take the cigarette and hold it between my fingers. We sit in silence for a few minutes.

“I’m going to get a beer. You guys wanna come with?”

“Oh no, we’re good. We already had our drinks.” they all say overlapping each other.

“I’ll be back.” I say.

I head over to the barista.

“I’ll take my usual bottle of scotch, thanks.”

The sweet smell of the alcohol rushed over my body.

“One bottle? That’s it? What a record!” Ruth exclaimed.

“Oh shut your trap. It’s only my first run!”

I pour the whiskey into a glass and drink it right up.

This was the life that I ought to have and no man could tell me otherwise.