overtimed

Friday I made a good showing. I left at 11:30 and was home a little after midnight. I collapsed on my bed and regained consciousness at 5AM still fully clothed minus my shoes. I was due back in work in three hours. The alarm was set to go off at six.

The pounding in my head wasn't severe but it was persistent and consistent. I wondered what caused the ache in my head because usually there is no ache. I doubted it was the beers, same as with the Red Death shot, same with the straight shot of Vodka one of the waitresses bought for me, that left the mystery shot from the shot girl, or the Raspberry Margarita that I was dared to drink through a straw as quick as I could. I've had plenty more than what I had the night before so I couldn't say for certain what had done me in but my guess would be drinking a Margarita like a spaz. I cursed the timing of my new found pain. I had said I would show up to help out and not showing up was not an option.

I worried in the shower because there seemed to be a slight problem with my balance and I really didn't want to the period at the end of my life to be proceeded by "Found dead in the shower, was out the night before drinking heavily."

I got off one subway stop before the usual with the hope that my head would clear by the time I walked into the office. Signing in at the security desk at 8:07, I still noticed a bit of a throb behind both ears.

We were there for five hours before we left. He said he had had enough. He asked how I got in and I told him I left my truck at the subway station and took the train in. I refused his offer of a ride back to the station with the excuse of hanging around town and getting lunch.

"How are you doing, today?" she asked not as a greeting after I was seated at the bar.

"This morning was kind of bad"

"Yeah, I was pretty fucked up last night. We all were. Em didn't even make it home and she has to be back here at five."

"Well, you still look lovely." I said to the dark corner Emily was hiding in.

"Lovely?! This is lovely to you. This is real, hair's a mess, no makeup…"

"Yeah but you don't look bad. I've seen you look better but…"

Emily came out and sat next to me while we ate lunch and talked with Jen as she worked the bar.

Emily left about two. I didn't commit when she asked if I would visit her during her Sunday shift. Not long after a regular took her vacated seat.

"I'm not talking too much am I?" the regular, who was talking too much, asked.

"No. Not too much."

"I talk when things are bothering me otherwise I'm usually quiet but then you know that. You're not a chatterbox yourself."

"Nope." I said not daring to ask what his problem was and remembering that he said the exact same thing the last time he was next to me.

"Timmy, how was your drink?"

"It was alright, but you might want to check your sour mix, it seemed a little watery."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because I wasn't drinking it for the sour mix and the whiskey was fine."

My request for my bill was protested against and when I was asked what my plans were for the rest of the day I had to admit that I hadn't any.

"Maybe, I'll read a book or something." I offered.

"Screw reading" she said as she placed my bill in front of me. I read the receipt; she only charged me for a turkey club.