the end.

I could see her laying under the slide, shaking. I though it was just the alcohol playing tricks on my eyes. But then she stopped. And her coat was no longer moving up and down in a rhythmic breath. Somehow, I just knew. I watched the life float up out of the fortune teller..Madame something or another, I think. I turned to around and threw up. And then, for the first time I can remember, I went home sober.

I couldn't sleep.
Tara had offered to let me crash at the pub for the night, but I knew if I woke up with bottles of whiskey and scotch, I'd down my breakfast with hard liquor. And that probably was not a good idea. So, I left the pub and headed home around 3:30 in the morning. But once I was tucked in my bed, sleep did not come. And the room would not stop spinning.

I should probably stop drinking, I thought to myself.

Around 6:30 the next morning, my eyes were still open. Sunlight was coming through the windows in broken shards, forcing me to get up . I grudgingly swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood up slowly. The pounding headache came immediately. I limped over to the bathroom for a long gulp of water. I was thirsty all the time now, since the only thing that truly satisfied my thirst was a taste of alcohol.

I decided that today, I was going to attempt the hold off on the brews until at least 3 in the afternoon. This probably was not going to be a good day. As I began my walk down to the bus station, I ran into a little boy heading off to school. His sister was handing him money for the bus. But this small child did not look old enough to ride by himself. He gave me a timid look, and I sneered back. Today was not the day for random kindness.

And with that in mind, I broke my promise and headed to the pub.

I wasn't used to having to meet new people. It had been awhile since I'd had a conversation with anyone other than Tara. She was usually the only one interested in chatting with me while I sat by the window and downed shots of whiskey. On this particular night, I was well into my 13th shot, when a man I'd never seen around before passed out at a table near where I was forgetting my sorrows. He had a small girl with him. She too was asleep on his lap. My heart fluttered. This little child had been me. I could remember falling asleep with my drunk mother in a bar almost every night. "Well shit" I muttered under my alcohol-sodden breath.

"TARA!" I yelled. "I need another round!"

She hurried over to me and poured yet another beverage for me.

"You need to slow down, Madalene" she said, never taking her eyes off the small girl.
"Your going to kill yourself one of these days" she remarked as she walked away.

I pretended I hadn't heard her and went back to forgetting life as I knew it.