DRUNK
752 Words
5
John's favorite spot was the smokers' zone. Smokers' zone was a small hall of the skyscraper building Few workers frequented this hall during their lunch hour. Perhaps, they had several tasks on their hands that they could not make time for smoking. Or, they have not learned the act of it.
Anyway, this was John's zone. He wasn't a smoker but he enjoyed the silence and peace in the hall. He took his lunch there as usual and ate in silence.
Today, he was eating his meal in peace and minding his own business like he always does until he heard a muffled cry from a corner of the hall not very far from where he was.
Naturally, John would not have meddled but the sobbing figure looked familiar to him. Her pathetic state also attracted his concern.
Stella sat on the bare ground with a bottle of Heineken alcohol before her. With her right hand firmly holding the neck of the bottle, She looked gloomy and distraught. Her eyes were wet with tears and the sound of dilemma escaped from her lips.
John knew he might regret the decision he was about to make yet he took it. He walked toward her and crouched before her.
"Are you okay?" He asked.
She looked at him and smiled. Her eyes were half-closed while her breath reeked of alcohol. John presumed that she had had other bottles before the one she was currently drinking. She was visibly drunk.
"John, right?" She asked in her drunken state.
"I'm fine. Don't worry. I just need another bottle" She added.
John was reluctant to stay. He wanted to go back to his world of peace. She already said she was fine anyway. I've tried my best, he consoled himself as he turned to walk back to his space. Stella stopped him by holding his hand.
"Stay. Sit with me" She pleaded to pat the ground beside her.
John sat beside her grudgingly. He didn't know what to make of the lady beside him who was bold enough to drink during lunch hour. One minute, she was a serious amiable worker. The next minute, she was one lost drunken lady.
"Do you have any siblings, John?" Stella inquired sloppily.
"No"
"You're lucky. You get to do whatever you wanna whenever you wanna" Stella commented with words staggering out of her mouth and her hands gesticulating.
"Why are you drunk?" John ventured.
"Me? I'm not drunk. I was thinking about my family" She maintained.
"Do you have a daddy, John?" She asked after a brief silence.
"He's dead"
"Well, my daddy was a government driver. He is retired now and he has stroke" She informed absentmindedly.
She paused waiting for John's comment. However, John kept mute growing more uncomfortable. She continued talking like a chatterbox.
"Well, he drove for the ministers for fifteen years. Can you believe that?"
"Then, he got into a stupid accident that made him cripple. Do you know what the stupid government did to him?"
"No" John muttered.
"They signed him off with paltry sum. And that was three years ago with no pension" Stella lamented in slurred speech.
John doesn't know what he was meant to do with the truckload of information. He listened impatiently hoping Stella would get to the point and let him be. She took a huge gulp from the beer bottle and continued her story.
"Now, I have to cater for three people: Daddy, Anna, and Chidera" She wailed
"What about me? Don't I count? When will I get to live a life of my own?" She added gesticulating wildly.
"When? When? Wh... Wh... When" Stella drifted off into a deep sleep.
When he could no longer hear her speaking, John turned to look at her. She was fast asleep. There is no use waking her, John reasoned. He wanted to leave. Lunch hour will be over in ten minutes. A part of him didn't want to leave Stella in the smokers' zone alone while a part of him wanted to finish his meal quickly and get back to work.
Acting on impulse, John carried Stella on his back. He knew if he left her there, she will have to answer to her supervisor for excessive drinking at work and probably late coming. He didn't want her to get into all that trouble so he carried her on his back and walked out of the smokers' zone with heavy steps. He was taking her home. To his home.
- Writer
