The steamed rice didn't taste as good as the fried rice I'd originally wanted, but since the restaurant had run out they'd offered me the other rice for free and I'd accepted the offer. What kind of person didn't like free? But then again maybe if I'd tasted the rice beforehand I would've had something different to say about that. I washed down the stale rice devoid of much taste with my favourite caramel bubble tea that the restaurant was famous for, at least in the neighbourhood anyway. It wasn't a bubble tea shop or anything like that, but the legendary tea was the only thing that kept their business from going completely down the drain once the recession hit.
Tea was what I'd started to drink after I'd quit the alcohol. The courts had made me quit actually. After I'd gotten arrested I had been given the chance to go to rehab and get off easy or face possibly going to prison for a couple of months. I'd always thought that rehab was some kind of joke so I said why not? I might as well just get rewarded for my bad behaviour! Except that wasn't what happened. Getting clean of the alcohol was by far the hardest thing I'd ever done, but it had definitely been worth it and I was proud to say that I'd been clean for over two years. What nobody had prepared me for, however, was that constant urge to put something that tasted good to my lips.
To the outside world it would seem like merely a habit, and drinking something in itself wasn't anything bad, but since I'd gotten rid of the alcohol I knew I'd have to replace it with something else. The sugary tea certainly wasn't any good for my kidneys but I supposed that it was still better than what the alcohol had done to my liver. I was not proud of what the alcohol had made me do in the past. The worst part of that is that I hadn't actually chosen to do those things out of my own free will. The alcohol decided, and I was left with nothing but the embarrassment to deal with on my own.
There was that one time that I arrived home from work and had to park the car in a different area than my usual spot because a large trailer belonging to the property owner had been parked there, filled with construction materials to be used for renovations the following day. No problem, I didn't mind parking closer to the door for once. Then I started to drink, too much, like I always did after supper. My two roommates arrived from work in their carpools later and did their own thing like they always did. It was just another day, just another night, I managed to crawl into bed and not pass out somewhere where my housemates might step on me or trip over me, potentially injuring both of us, not to mention the embarrassment of the aftermath.
I sank into a very deep drunken sleep and only woke up again in the middle of the night when I needed to go to the bathroom. Despite all the crazy things I'd done while intoxicated, I'd never wet myself. God forbid that I would wake up covered in my own urine! The only thing worst than that was urinating on the furniture like an animal. For some reason I had this insane phobia of peeing in my bed, and it was probably in large part thanks to that phobia that I'd never wet my bed after drinking so much like other drunkards had a habit of doing.
That night was no different, I got up when I needed to pee but what I hadn't realized at the time was that I had literally gotten up on the wrong side of the bed. I'd also forgotten about the chair I'd left there the previous night after installing some new curtains in the window and I tripped over it, sending me flying forward and banging my head right in the window. The hit resonated everywhere inside my body and I held on to the window sill while the world was spinning. When the world returned to its normal and my eyes adjusted to the darkness outside I noticed that the car was missing from its usual spot. Had my roommates really finally taken the car and left me and drunkenness behind? That too had been another phobia of mine, like peeing in my bed.
"Oh, damn you all!" I grumbled angrily as I stumbled across to the other side of my room and into the hallway.
I continued to grumble and curse under my breath all the way to the bathroom where I flopped down on the toilet and successfully avoided wetting my bed. I rubbed my tired eyes with both of my hands and sat on the throne probably longer than I should have before an annoying noise brought me back to reality. Snoring. I could hear somebody snoring. I got up and tiptoed into the hallway towards my roommate's room and gently turned the doorknob to peer inside. Sure enough there he was, snoring like hurricane the same way he always did. So they hadn't left me all alone after all! It was only when I woke up again in the early morning that I remembered that I'd parked the car elsewhere. Thankfully for me, neither one of my housemates had noticed a thing or heard any of my grumbling or stumbling around during the night. The next morning I didn't mention a thing and nobody brought it up either.
YOU ARE READING
Lost Thoughts (Volume Two)Short Story
Take a roller coaster ride in this second volume of experimental short stories, each of about 2500 words, mostly written as writing prompts over the years. With all genres from mystery to humor to serious stories about important and relevant topics...