Something Beautiful

something curious 3

You are a coward, Umi thought. You did not choose us.

She watched the spineless man bare his excuses, one layer after another. She just finished her meal, but she had lost her strength. It was painful, but she couldn't cry. It was the kind of pain that even the heartless like her could still feel.

He combed his hands through the greying hair, then intertwined his fingers with the other, as if he was praying for his daughter to grow back her humanity. "If only I found you right after Yvette's funeral, you wouldn't have met him. If only—"

Umi retched. She covered her mouth as the food she forcefully ate previously was rebelling to come out. "Sorry, you disgust me."

It was past three minutes from her wristwatch. She grabbed the shoulder bag and headed out, leaving him silently crying and drowning himself in grief. Umi entered the bar next to the hotel, eyeing the bartender with the same intimidation to convince him she was legal to get drunk even though it was still early.

She downed the bitterness of the intoxicating liquid down her throat. She added another shot. And another. One more and until she forgot to count nor notice the passing of time.

Ethan was right the first time they met, beer is better. The buzz is slow, but it lasts, at least for her. She grinned at her glass of alcohol.

"...another." Her tongue lost its function to speak clearly. The music registered in her head, not the melody but the bass, like a rhythmic scream. She felt weightless and invincible. But why can't she laugh like the voices in her head?

That's her, right? What a slut.

Did you see the video?

Wait, there's a video? I thought they were just nudes.

The group chat had it, I don't know. Probably deep fakes, but who cares.

Ah, she should've laughed with them too. Fuck you all.

"Ma'am, are you awake?"

Umi raised the shot glass, the bartender's face was no longer clear due to the blurring vision. "...another, please..."

"Can I call someone to pick you up?" He peeled the glass from her hands. Umi fumbled inside her shoulder bag. The phone dangled in her fingers.

"Password 12345." Umi grinned to herself. "Good luck."

The latter caught it before it fell. There was no more pain in her chest, but it wasn't replaced by any emotion. She was just numb.

She overheard the bartender in a phone conversation. The words, "Only number," "No other," and "drunk" were caught then she passed out.

Minutes later, she was somehow awoken from the faint tap on her cheek. Still, with eyes closed, she raised her hand to call the bartender's attention. "Another one!"

Someone took her hand and lowered them, then she was wrapped in a jacket.

"Umi, let's go home." It was James.

She grinned. In her slurred speech and liquor fueled bravery, declared, "According to a book there are three types of women. What are they?"

She did not wait for an answer, as she counted with her fingers, while her other hand cupped her face. "Wives, virgins and whores. Which one am I?"

"You're neither of the three," he answered directly. "There's no need to label you with anything."

"Idiot!" Umi squealed and laughed, with her eyes still as heavy as her body. She raised her hands and declared, "You are all idiots!"

With no support on her head, her face smashed on the counter, if not for the strong hands that caught it.

"You are all fucking idiots!" She laughed as she was lifted and carried by strong arms.

Umi clung to his neck, turned his face closer to his chest and drowsily whispered, "Hey you. Hey."

There was no answer but the gentle rocking at his every step. "Do you think God forgives sinners?"

Ah. Her humanity was creeping back to her senses somehow. Was the alcohol wearing off? Even though she's used to being alone, why would she want to cry on someone else's shoulder? "James?"

The answer made her flinch. "I'm Ethan." In his every step exiting the club, with its aggressive beats drowned by distance, he preached. "How could you be so stupid?!"

"Not now, bro," James' voice pleaded, trailing behind them. "Umi, we'll take you."

Finally, she woke up from her made believe theory that she was just dreaming. Umi squeezed whatever strength she could muster and lifted her head.

"Put me down. Don't touch me. Please." Ethan did before she could finish.

Finally, with her feet on the pavement, she met his glare. Until it melted into something she knew was anything but anger or disgust. He sighed in defeat and asked, "Are you alright?"

Umi just stood there, half a foot apart from him and sobbed. It didn't matter if they were on the side of a busy road. It didn't matter if the bypassers peered at them—a drunk girl on an emotional breakdown and two guys who had no idea what to do—strangely Umi cried. She demonstrated weakness, like the former version of herself, before and shortly after her bubble popped.

It was after a few minutes that she staggered, albeit independently, into the back of their car. James followed with her bag and was silent as Ethan revved the engine to life.

"You can sleep." James broke the silence. "We're a bit far from your house. I'll just wake you up."

"I don't live there." She referred to the address James took her once with Odi.

"I know," he replied. "We didn't go home right away. We followed you."

"Are you mad?" he asked after her lack of response.

Umi surrendered and closed her eyes. "Please take me home."