They Say A Drunk Speaks A Sober Mind—Mel Waiters

I was half in the bag when Tonya came in. As usual, she was dressed to the nines as usual. She was my friend girlfriend when it was necessary. In my business, there were functions that required my presence and showing up alone was considered extremely bad taste. So, Tonya was my friend girlfriend. When she slipped into her chair across from me, I was feeling no pain.

“It looks like you started without me,” she said and laughed lightly.

I looked through blurry eyes and imagined a princess had just come to tell me she needed rescuing. When my eyes finally focused, I said, “You’re a fine motherfucker. Wait, I’m sorry. I’m drunk and I’d never say anything like to you when I ain’t full of whiskey.”

“You’ve said worse things, Tonya said and laughed.

“I have?” I asked. You’re kidding, right?”

“No. You’ve asked me to do all kinds of things, but I’ve never been bothered because I know it’s not you. So, tell me who was it this time? Twila? Shanelle?”

Suddenly my mind was coming back into focus. It’s funny how you can will yourself out of a condition and that is exactly what happened. Of course, now I felt like shit, which only added to my anger with that bitch Shanelle breaking up with me by text message. I wanted to kick her ass, but since I couldn’t I drank myself into a trance.

Even though I was finally through the fog, something still nagged at my mind and it wasn’t a gentle subject. I’d been thinking about how to bring the subject up without being rude or unfeeling, but I finally decided that just coming out and saying it straight would be the best way. After all, we had been friends since childhood.

“What are you thinking," Tonya asked. I know that look on your face and it means that you have something on your mind. If you have something to say, just say it.”

“Straight out, here it is. We’ll probably lose friendship over this but I think you should know,” I said.

“Just say it,” Tonya said.

“Lately, I’ve been smelling your ass,” I said.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“I mean I can smell all of your feminine parts. Your ass and pussy, I can smell them,” I said.

I could see the anger in her eyes and her facial muscles clench. The muscle running along her jawbone was tight and her eyes squinted. She started to get up and then sat back down in her chair. She stared at me hard as if she was trying to stab or shoot me.

“How can you hurt me like this,” she asked.

“I’ve been thinking it over for the past two months when I first noticed it, I said. “I thought I imagined it, but it was real. Then I thought that if it were me that I’d like a friend to pull me over and tell me before I became a topic of conversation for the local haters. Maybe this liquor has loosened my tongue enough to say what a real friend would have said right away,” I said.

She there looking at me with a look that I couldn’t read. Resting her chin on her crossed hands, she turned her head back and forth looking from one side of the room to the other. At one point, she swallowed her bourbon and continued to ruminate. While she sat in silence, I motioned for the waiter to bring another bourbon for her. She did the same thing before she finally spoke and simply said to me, “thank you.”

I don’t remember was when we left “Dark Eyes,” but the taxi driver had to pour us into the backseat. He had to ask three times for our addresses. When we parted, she kissed me on my cheek and said, “See you at the next party.”