Going For A Drink

Trisha reads at school a book which she had been told to read by friend York. She tried to read the word, but they stick inside of her mind and form jumbled sentences. Trisha finally sighs and pushes the book away. She has to admit to herself that she is a lousy study.

“I wish I were smart!” she declares to an empty space above her head. “Why have my brains when left so bare when others have trees of knowledge?”

A nudge from behind alerts Trisha to attention and she turns around and sees ex-boyfriend Patrick standing behind her. Trisha smiles.

“Imagine seeing you hitting the study books!” tells Patrick as he glares at Trisha.

“Imagine seeing you in a library!” retorts Trisha as she sneers. “What are you doing today?” she asks.

“Going home;” tells Patrick as he glares with interest. “Why you want to catch a movie or something?”

“No, I too have to study;” remarks Trisha as she shrugs. “Maybe we could share a drink at your house?” she asks.

Patrick rummages through his mind the liquor cabinet in the study. He sees various styles of wine and alcohol and he sees a jar of pickled figs which have strong levels of alcohol as its seasoning. Patrick shrugs - the last time he and Trisha drank she ended up throwing up in their living room; he could not let that happen again - his father and mother had hit the roof and cut off his allowance for a month!

“As long as it's one drink...” he tells Trisha as he smiles.

“One drink it is!” cheers Trisha as she giggles.

Trisha can't tell Patrick how much she has ached for a drink – but being under-aged to buy her own has left her in starvation for the sweet taste of alcohol. Trisha wishes she could cry – her brain has hit the rocks over the subject of school and study, and she needs release.

At Patrick's house Trisha downs her fifth cup of punch with alcohol. She knows Patrick bothered to make punch to decrease her appetite for drink and to decrease her alcohol levels, however she has plans to drink some wine as he threatens a toilet break with his jiggling pants.

“I have downed number five!” comments Trisha as she glares at Patrick.

Patrick smiles.

“Good for you;” he mutters as he sees a person desperate for something more then punch can offer. “Do you want speed with that?”

Trisha snorts before she throws her head.

“No thank-you, I am not a druggie - I just like to drink!” she declares openly.

“That is fine;” tells Patrick. “Let me go to the bathroom and we can continue;” he mutters.

Patrick leaves and Trisha races to the liquor cabinet and down a very expensive spirit which sits in a tiny bottle at the front of a range of expensive scotch vials. Trisha smiles as she feels a tingle, but her stomach groans. She gasps and races back to the living room where she sits as though she has just remembered her manners when in reality she is saving herself from being sick.

Patrick returns and looks at Trisha - she seems blurry because he has just popped two speed pills but he can make out her shadow. Patrick sits next to her and he offers some light conversation, but when it appears as though she is not listening he inquires about her state of being.

“You aren't going to be sick are you?” he asks Trisha.

“No;” mutters Trisha as she trembles inside of her skin. “I'm just full;” she states as she glares at the turned off television.

“That makes sense – five drinks can burst you;” tells Patrick as he glares.

“I know, maybe I should have stopped at three;” mutters Trisha as she chews on a nail.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” asks Patrick as he smiles.

“No, I don't want to walk;” mutters Trisha as she feels the burn in her legs from having had walked to Patricks house from school.

“Do you want to listen to music?” asks Patrick before the rev from a car alerts his attention. “Parents back home early?” he asks as he shivers inside of his body.

Patrick races to clean up the house as the sounds outside make him feel panic – from the sound of door opening to the sound of keys; every sound makes him shake as he cleans up the mess he has made.

The front door opens at Patricks parents slip inside of the house. They meet Trisha coolly as they breathe in the smell of alcohol. Patricks father James goes to the liquor cabinet and finds it open. He scowls and quickly asks Trisha to leave.

Trisha leaves on wonky legs and she walks down the barren street with hesitation as her mind forms blurs. She realises fast that she is drunk and she panics as she moves to step across the road and has a car rush past a nose length in front of her. Trisha races across the road fast, and then she struggles for her breath – her stomach churns on the fast pace run and finally she throws up!

Trisha smells the stench of retch, but she ignores it to continue on home. She walks forever passing many houses, but she does not find her way back home only to a park in which she falls over a long stump and into the shallow creek. A hit on the head knocks Trisha's mind away and she lays there unconscious as water drifts over her ears. She might have drowned if the creek had not been shallow! But in the evening she wakes with ice on her ears, still alive.

“What happened?” asks Trisha as she places a hand to her face.

Trisha can't believe she has been dumped in a creek for hours and no one have found her! She laughs as she sits up.

“What a sight!” she gasps. “I really should stop drinking;” she mutters before she continues on home.

At home Trisha showers and then she slips into bed with a cup of hot tea in her hands. The creek had sobered her up but she still felt chilled. She nurses her cup as she thinks of Patrick and the trouble his parents might have given up after she had been asked to leaves. She smiles, giggles, and then she leans back on her bed.

“Who cares – it's just drinking, it's just fun;” she mutters as she glares at the ceiling. “It's just how life is;” she adds.

But the whoosh of a car sweeping before her rushes inside of her mind and Trisha grows scared. She knows she could have been hit but for a moment she regrets that she may have hurt herself if it had not been for her slow legs. Trisha fights the need to cry and she tells herself to calm down.

“I should probably not drink again;” she mutters as she glares at her blankets. “I should probably never go to Patrick's house again;” she tells herself. “I should just study;” she adds as she grows a blush.

Trisha wishes that her mind would listen to her scolding, but already the sweet taste of alcohol swells in the back of her head and she knows she will drink again - she just does not know when!