Drinking: A Narrative Fiction

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“I’ll take a beer, any kind is fine,” Trig replies.
“And for the lady,” she ask smiling even bigger at me.
“I don’t give a shit what you serve me. Just keep the liquor coming.”
Trig squeezes my hand.
“I have to use the restroom. I’ll be back.” I say, moving around her.
“Sorry,” Trig says, apologizing for my behavior. “It’s been one of those days.”
I don’t even look at either of them. I pass through the aisle and make my way to the back of the plane. I go in and do my business and when I come out I’m greeted by a familiar face. It’s the face of one of my clients. I could just die.
“This is not happening,” I mumble.
“I thought that was you when you passed by,” he whispers.
I suddenly become nervous and uncomfortable. I’m supposed to be this
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The flight attendant has already brought me my first round. I slam it back and waive her over for another. Time passes and soon enough my glass has emptied three times. I feel the alcohol kick in. Trig and me start discussing Fiji and how he watched this documentary and it looked unbelievable. I tell him it’s a place I’ve always wanted to go to. We both start to become somewhat excited about landing, and suddenly my mind is busy. I notice that I don’t feel pain when my mind is going. It’s when my brain slows down that I’m at my worst. For the next several hours, I’ll only cry alone in the bathroom every time I take that picture out of my pocket. I’ll shed tears and teeter on the edge of a breakdown when I see her smiling face looking back at me, because this is all that I have left of her. It’s all that remains. Just two girls in one tiny photo. We look happy in it. That was us at our best. It was the day that we moved into our house. It was the best day of our lives. When I look at this picture I’ll remember every storm we weathered, and as hard as it is, I’ll force myself to exist. I’ll seek strength in her smile when I feel week. It’s crucial I push myself to keep going, because that’s who I am. A fighter. A survivor, and Jenny, she wouldn’t have let me give up.
***
Eleven hours later we finally arrive in Fiji, at the Nadi airport. We quickly make our way through the
…show more content…
I take a seat and watch Trig at the counter. The girl behind the desk helping him is smiling at him, and batting her eyelashes. I feel something unfamiliar inside. I feel anger watching her flirt. I know that look she’s giving him, and I don’t like it. Damn it. I’m jealous. I don’t get jealous, so I turn and look the other way. It only takes two seconds for me to whip my head back to look at both of them. Now he’s laughing, and she’s laughing, and I hate watching this interaction. She flips her hair to the side and leans over the counter exposing her cleavage to him. I’m not sitting here while he’s over there chatting it up with, Beyoncé. I lug my two bags over and drop them loudly on the floor next to

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