My eyes can't believe what they have seen

Another short story. possibly titled 'Never Again'. also due to 5AM typing/editing, may or may not remain as is.

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“Never again.”

I want to nod, to agree, but my head feels like it will burst with the slightest movement, like it will break with the lightest touch.

I settle for grunting in a manner I hope shows my agreement.

“That was some night though, huh?”

This time I do nod, and it feels about six times worse than I could have ever pictured, raw agony flaring through my skull.

I groan and take a sip of my coffee, the usually bitter heat tasting of nothing, my tongue far from working the way it was intended to.

The coffee shop is mostly empty; it’s still early, too early. I feel like I should be asleep for the next decade.

I try to remember last night – all I get is flashes; things I know happened, things which make sense, and then…

…The other things.

It must’ve been a good night, seeing how little I remember.

I muster the strength for some words, and force them out, even though it feels like my throat is full of gravel.

“…what happened last night?”

Jim smirks at me, a little twinkle of glee in his eyes.

He looks so much better than I feel that I almost want to hit him.

“So you don’t remember… Francesca?”

Some of the shattered mosaic that is my memory begins to piece itself back together.

I remember meeting Francesca, a cute brunette from some other school, from some other social circle with just one link or two to ours.

I remember the small talk two people share when they’ve just met, who you know, what you do, where you’re from.

I couldn’t tell you what she said. I couldn’t tell you what I said.

“You remember now, huh?”

Jim grins at me like an idiot.

“Yeah”

“Oh good. You can’t have drunk that much then.”

I remember drinking a lot.

I can see flashes of all kinds of things, of beer, cider, tequila. I see something a horribly unnatural shade of green.

“I still can’t believe she got with you, of all people.”

I can’t either, really. She could have done a lot better.

More comes flooding back, snapshots of moments, little disjointed scenes that don’t quite fit together.

I remember a hat, a pinstriped trilby, making the rounds, going chaotically from head to drunken head.

I remember a playful little scuffle, the prize for the victor that little scrap of patterned cloth.

I remember, clear as if it were happening again, the blinding white hot pain of a knee connecting with my crotch at a hundred miles an hour.

The light died, faded away. Alcohol dulls all pain.

If you want to make sure a guy never, ever forgets you, a swift kick to the groin tends to do that job pretty well.

Ok, so he’ll also never forget that you kicked him in the balls, but infamy beats obscurity any day, right?

I come back to the present, back to my current aches and pains. A gentle breeze could knock me down and I’d shatter like a pane of glass.

Jim is talking again, something about last night and someone throwing up, but I’m not really listening. He starts to laugh, so I chuckle into my coffee.

I remember being alone with Francesca. Alone, with a door closed, sitting on a bed.

I remember her saying she was sorry, a thousand times sorry.

Asking, was there anything she could do to make me feel better…

I don’t remember the words, but I remember what I said; I remember where my hands went, and my lips.

I remember what we did, the softness of her skin, the awkward fumbling.

I remember… release.

I remember watching her shrug her shirt back on, watching her walk away.

I remember falling asleep, and waking up.

Alone.

I told her she was special, she was different, she was interesting. I said, I don’t usually do this.

I lied.

But she still left me alone, with my thoughts, feeling empty, feeling rejected, despite what we’d done, or because of it.

Never again.

Jim downs the last of his coffee, so I do too.

“We should probably go catch that bus, huh”

“Yeah, sure”

I lead the way to the door, stop to hold it open for the two girls coming in.

The shorter one, with long black hair and bright eyes, smiles at me.

“Thanks!”

A pretty girl smiles at you, and all your cares in the world, all your pain just washes away.

We stumble through the door and head for the bus station.

“Man, I am never drinking that much ever again… I feel like a bus kicked me in the eye.”

I shake my head.

Never again?

Yeah, right.

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