Ocean Breathes Salty

I walked briskly down the sidewalk, my flannel dangling from my right hand. I glanced back at John. He was still following behind me.

I stopped walking and faced him. My slight intoxication caused double vision, giving John a blurry twin that mimicked every step he took. “I really don’t need a babysitter,” I shouted at him, annoyed. “I can get home myself.”

John caught up to me but ignored anything I said.

“Ugh,” I groaned in defeat, continuing my walk home beside him. There wasn’t anybody out, no cars, no people, no sounds. It was creepy and I was kind of thankful someone was with me. I just wish it was anybody else. It was late now and the temperature outside had cooled. I pulled my flannel on. The flask I had packed was still sitting in the front pocket, banging against my chest with every step. I pulled it out and spun the top open.

As I brought it up to my lips, John grabbed the piece of metal away from me. A little bit of vodka splashed out and onto my boots. “I don’t think so,” he said. “You really don’t need any more of this.”

I squinted at him. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.” My words slurred as I snatched it back from him. “I’m not even that drunk.”

He sighed, but didn’t protest again as I guzzled back the clear vodka. It backfired on me and I felt myself about to gag. I stopped walking and threw the flask back at John. I leaned over the sidewalk into the street just in time to regurgitate a fair amount of my stomach contents. It didn’t help that I hadn’t eaten much today.

John stood next to me, waiting. I sat hunched over the pile of orange bile, continuously spitting out any leftover vomit that had taken over my mouth. I finally stood and wiped my face with the back of my arm.

“Not that drunk, huh?” John asked facing me.

“Shut up,” I murmured under my breath before trying to grab the flask for a second time.

John closed the flask and shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans. “You’ll thank me in the morning,” he said.

He irritated me more than words could describe. “Thank you for what?”

“I don’t know, Meadow,” he threw his arms up in front of me. “For not letting you end up in the emergency room tonight for alcohol poisoning. Or maybe for not letting that guy take advantage of you?”

I threw my head back, annoyed. “Maybe I wanted to be taken advantage of!” I crossed my arms in front of my chest and looked at my feet. I was angry. Angry that Hannah’s fiancé felt like he had any right to burden my life now that she was dead.

“Look at me,” he said. He put his hands on my shoulders, digging his green eyes into mine, forcing eye contact. “Tell me you honestly wanted to sleep with Ethan Sheena tonight. Tell me that, and I’ll let you go back to that party. I’ll leave you alone.”

I couldn’t tell him that. He was right. I didn’t want to sleep with Ethan. I just wanted to feel something other than this overbearing depression that had taken over.

I didn’t answer John. Instead I shrugged his arms off of me and kept walking. We walked side by side in silence for a couple of blocks, our shadows dancing up the sides of buildings under the streetlights.

“It’s okay to be sad, you know?” John finally said, kicking gravel up as he walked. His hands were shoved into his pockets. There wasn’t any traffic out this late, but he kept looking both ways before we crossed every intersection. “I’m sad. She was my best friend too.”

I rolled my eyes to myself. “I don’t want to talk about Hannah.” This is why I hated talking to anyone, this is why I wanted to be alone all of the time. Everyone wanted to talk about Hannah.

“You can’t just pretend like she never existed.”

“I’m not,” I said harshly, letting him know this conversation was over. Still, he persisted as we passed by gated up shops and dimly lit “closed” signs.

“I keep wanting to forget,” he said, “But every time she starts to slip away my mind automatically jumps back to one of our first dates. We didn’t do anything special, just dinner and the movies. Nothing about the date specifically stands out; I don’t even remember what movie we saw.”

“Great,” I said sarcastically, just wanting him to stop.

John ignored me. “But when I dropped her off that night, she just looked at me and smiled. She didn’t say anything. Just smiled. And that fucking smile, you know? It’s just burned into my memory. I can’t ever get rid of it.”

It was weird hearing him talk about her like this. I had seen them together so many times, but I never really witnessed John act romantic or super affectionate towards her. He was always pretty private about their relationship. Hannah always said he treated her well, but I never really saw it myself. Then again, I did try to avoid him as much as possible.

“But then I stop and ask myself why? Why would I ever want to forget that? Why would I try to? If it was the most amazing part of my life, why would I want to get rid of it?”

As we rounded the corner onto my street, I wiped a tear that had managed to fall down my cheek. I was only ever a drunk crier. Sober me never cried.

I understood what John was saying but I didn’t want to forget Hannah. I would never wish for that. All I wanted was for this pain to end.

“I know you’re hurting, Meadow.” He said, almost reading my mind. We came to a halt at the end of the long driveway leading up to my apartment. “I’m just trying to help you. We could help each other.”

“Well I don’t need your help,” I said, growing more angry. I crossed my arms in front of my chest, getting prepared for the word vomit I was about to spew. “You don’t know me, John. You didn’t even know Hannah. You were together for what, like four years? Try twenty-five years. You would never know Hannah the way I do, you will never be as crushed as I am right now, and I’m tired of you walking around town acting like you have any idea how I feel.”

“Meadow,” John tried cutting in.

“No, stop,” I said. “I don’t need you. We’re not friends. I’ll be fine on my own. So just leave me alone.”