Double vodka on the rocks

“Double vodka on the rocks, lots of rocks” the clear liquid swimming in ice encompassed in its plastic vessel is placed on my folded out tray. I look deep into the the circular rim, raise it to my lips, a warmth travels down my throat and hits my stomach. It’s deep, dark, the only warmth I have felt since her passing. Emotionless, numb, I take another sip. “C-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-caaaaannnn I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I have whaaa-aaaa—aaaaat he’s, can I have what he’s drinking” The voice stammers across my chest, filling the void beside me, filling the void inside me. A crooked smile, bushy eye brows, an un-ironed shirt. “i-I-I-I-I-I-I’m mo-o-o-o-o-oving to Sydney, w-w-w-w-hy are you flying there?” The image of my daughter being lowered in the ground flashes before my eyes, over and over again; “to see an old friend.” I can’t tell the truth, if I utter the words, my daughter has died, it becomes real. I am not ready for it to be real. What is real? “I-I-I-I-I dd-dd-ddon’t have f-f-f-frrriends in Sydney. So-o-o-o-ometimes i-i-t’s hard to speak to people”. I want to be encouraging but I can’t find the strength, that left me when the life left Indie’s eyes. Sixteen years of age and she felt more pain than other’s do in a lifetime, why her, why not me? I won’t ever get to ask her about her day again, taken away from me, why? So many unanswered questions, so many firsts taken from me, I will never get to see her walk down the isle, I will never here her laugh again, be the comforting shoulder, kiss her on the forehead as she drifts asleep. “Good choice in drink mate, it helps with the nerves on the flight hey?”. “Y-y-y-y-eeeah, I-I-I-I-I-I get nervous a lot”. His tone is seeking acceptance, Indie hated flying too. “W-W-W-W-Will invisible pp-p-p-p-lanes ever be a thing”. Puzzled, I take another sip of the stiff drink in front of me.”I-I-I-I- j-j-j-j-just can’t see them t-t-t-t-taking off”. A smile, creeps into the corner of my mouth, instinctively, I bow my head. Indie would have laughed. I press the button above me, summoning the flight attendant, do they find it demeaning to be called upon like a like a servant responding to their masters demands. “Another double vodka on the rocks” interrupted “lots of rocks”. I use to like when bartenders would remember my orders, now I’m agitated that I didn’t get to finish my request. I am easily agitated a lot, I have been for a while now. I feel like the kind and patient part of me was lowered into the ground along wth my daughters lifeless remains. The vodka hits my lips, as I close my eyes, Indies smile beams across my darkened eyelids, heavy bags under the darken holes where life use to shine out of. Ding, another vodka is placed in front of me. The unkept man, continues to stammer in my ear. I can no longer make small talk, I don’t care about his new life in Sydney, I don’t care about anything anymore, I accept I won’t be seeing the sunset over Darling Harbour tonight, I accept I won’t feel the bounce of the tyres hit the sun bleached tarmac, what does it matter. I use to find a beautiful innocence of conversations with strangers, It use to fill my spirit with joy, I no longer feel joy. I undo my seat belt and stumble down the narrow corridor, click, I unlock the bathroom door, I don’t need to use the toilet. I stare into the reflection and no longer recognise the person staring back at me. Cheekbones protruding, gaunt, a stubble covers my face, hair thin and long. Who is this man staring back at me. I reach into my pocket and take out the white cylinder. Shake, rattle and 8 white pills are in my hand, I look down, then again at this stranger in the mirror. I am not fit for the earth anymore, I too was lowered 6 feet under and yet I feel much deeper, darker. 20,000 feet in the air and I am engulfed in darkness. I crush the pills and cusp my hand. Click, I wait for the food cart to pass by before I find my seat, hand cusped. Ding, “Double vodka on the rocks, lots of rocks”. I got to finish my order this time and it brought me inner peace. Perhaps the blonde haired failed actress knew this would be my last order. Unknowingly granting my final wish, an act of kindness, an act of compassion, a fatal act. I raise the cusped hand to the plastic cup, a single bead of sweat trickle downs the side of my face, navigating the stubble, thin hair now matted in my nervousness. The clear liquid, clouded, the white powder slowly sinking. I stare, disassociating from the world surrounding me, the laughter of the child behind me, the loving presence of the couple to my left, the musk of the old man that walked past me, I stare into the cup. The slow burn into darkness will lead me further and I will no longer have to feel this pain, I can finally hold Indie in my arms again, I stare. As I lift the cup to my lips and engulf the entirety of it’s contents, I feel peace. I close my eyes for the final time and I am greeted by the warmth of Indie’s voice, “Daddy it’s not your fault, you always drank and drove, you didn’t know, I am glad you’re with me now.”