Perfectly Imperfect 1

21- The Cafferty Residence

CAL:

“You okay now?” I ask, peering down at Kayla. Her big eyes are bloodshot and her nose is red, but she seems okay, less shaky anyway.

She nods her head, biting down on her bottom lip.

“It’s over. It’s the past...” I whisper, patting her head.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you Cal! But I don’t want you to end up like that!” she whispers hoarsely.

“I won’t! It sounds like Ivan was pretty hardcore. I’m a light weight though. I know how much I can take. Like the other night...that was just one bottle of whiskey and a couple of brandies. That’s it. I puked my guts out because I can’t take much alcohol in my system. So I promise... I’ll never let that happen to me,” I assure her solemnly.

“Cal! Nobody thinks that will happen to them! Don’t you see the point of my story?” she asks exasperatedly.

I sigh slightly. “I don’t have a problem. I drink socially, but that’s what’s expected of me. I know you think I’m shallow and all... but you wouldn’t be able to imagine the crap I’d get if I didn’t drink. Like the other night for example! I didn’t intend to drink! I swear! But my friends made such a huge issue out of it that it just was easier for me to drink than to argue with them,” I mumble.

“Do you hear yourself Cal? You drink not because you want to, but because others want you to?” she demands, looking a little crossed.

“Look, if we carry on, we’re going to end up fighting again. I promise, I won’t ever let myself get so sloshed when you’re around okay? I won’t make you see me like that. But I know I don’t have the will to stop drinking cold turkey,” I admit.

She sighs and turns away from me, sitting back down.

“Kayla, don’t be mad, please?” I beg softly.

“I’m not mad-” she begins before I cut her off.

“You’re disappointed, huh?” I tease.

She hits me in the arm, laughing slightly.

“Do you wanna ditch this place?” I suggest nudging her shoe.

“Yeah,” she mumbles, smiling.

I throw an arm over her shoulder and lead her towards my car. “I need to pick something up from my house...do you wanna come with me? Or I could drop you off back at your place?”

“I get to see your house? Of course I want to go!” she exclaims gleefully.

I chuckle at her reaction and gun the engine, making sure not to drive too fast, lest I should frighten her again.

“Hmm, how much do you know about drunks?” I finally ask.

“Not much. I don’t drink... and I don’t like others who drink,” she admits sheepishly.

“Okay, so there are ten categories of drunk people, alright? Bear in mind that any one person could be a mixture of a few of these characteristics. So first we have the sexy drunks. These people basically think everyone in the world is attracted to them. Next you have the pass out drunks, who...well pass out when they’re drunk. The third is the funny drunks. These people will laugh at ANYTHING when they’re drunk. Then you have the dancing drunks, who really should not dance. Fifth, you have the violent drunks. Sixth are the denial drunks who think they can stomach one more shot. Seventh are the throw up drunks. Eight are the incomprehensible drunks who slur everything! Ninth are the unable to walk drunks. And lastly, you have the crying drunks!” I murmur smugly.