The Drunk Man

Peter had way too much to drink. He knew that he should have stopped at some point, maybe after about four drinks, but like always, he went too far. He wasn't expecting his night to go like this, but after his girlfriend dumped him for a friend, he felt the need to drink his sorrows away. 

He had a drinking problem, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care. His heart was broken, so he was going to drown in his sadness. He saw someone out of the corner of his eye, sit down next to him. He took a peek, and saw it was a blonde woman, wearing a tight black dress. 

The woman leaned her elbows on the bar, a sultry smile on her lips. Peter almost dropped his drink over the counter when the woman spoke in a man's voice. 

"Why the long face, sugar?"

Peter let out a small laugh. 

"I'm so fucking sad."

"Why?"

"My girlfriend dumped me. For my friend. Or who I thought was a friend. Turns out, they had been seeing each other behind my back."

The blonde man patted Peter's back. "I'm sorry to hear that, my dear. It must have hit you so hard."

Peter shrugged. "Who gives a shit? Maybe it was for the best. Fuck those two."

Peter raised his glass to the blonde man. "To a better future. Or whatever the fuck is waiting for me after this."

Peter downed his drink, and slammed the glass onto the counter. The bartender shot him a look, but didn't bother to stop him. Probably because he was spending his money like crazy, giving this bar a profit for the night. The blonde man traced a heart on the counter, right by Peter's arm. 

"I don't think you're going to remember this conservation, but my name is George. I perform here some nights on the stage over there. I'm a singer. And I always wear a dress for the audience. You would be surprised what some men are into."

Peter offered the stranger a drunken smile. "Good for you. At least someone's life is working well in their favor."

George blew a kiss, and this made Peter feel a bit lightheaded. He really did resemble a beautiful woman, like those super models you would see in those playboy magazines. Peter couldn't imagine the money he was making here, it must have been good enough, if George could afford to wear such an expensive looking dress. 

"I better get going. I'm expected elsewhere for the night."

George patted Peter's shoulder. "I'm sure that everything will work out for you, Peter. Your closure will arrive sooner than you think."

George kissed Peter on the cheek, and left the bar. Peter tried to turn around to muster his own goodbye, but he fell off the stool instead. The bartender noticed this embarrassing spectacle, and leaned over the counter to glare at Peter on the floor. 

"I think you had too much to drink, bro. You should leave."

"Yeah. Sure man. Whatever you say," Peter said in a slurred voice. He stood up on shaky legs, and after tripping over his own feet a couple of times, he was finally able to walk out of the bar with his head held high. As high as a drunk person can pull off, at least. Peter stumbled all the way home, and he woke up the next day, in bed. 

Peter didn't even know how he got into his apartment, but he was thankful that he even was able to in the first place. He massaged his temple, feeling a massive headache. 

"I really need to get my shit together," Peter muttered. 

His phone started ringing, where he had left it on the dresser next to his bed. How he managed to remember that little habit while wasted was beyond him. He picked up the phone, and was surprised to see that it was from his sister. It was unlike her to call him so early in the morning. He answered the call. 

"Hello?"

"Peter? Did you hear what happened? God, I'm not sure how to tell you this."

"What? Sara, what are you - ''

"Denise and Edward are dead."

It took Peter an entire eternity to process what he was just told. 

"What?," he asked softly.

"Your…ex - girlfriend is dead. Edward too. They…were uh, found dead in her apartment. They were murdered."

"H - How?"

"I don't know, Pete. I don't know. I'm sorry. So, fucking sorry. I heard about it on the news. It's awful. It's completely fucked, I'm sorry Pete. So sorry."

John's voice broke at the end, giving in to tears. Pete didn't know to react. It was like he was frozen in time. He tries to conjure up any reason, trying to figure out who could have done such a thing to these two people. Even though they ruined his life, they didn't deserve such a fucked-up fate. He never wished death on them. Edward stole Denise from him, but never did he want them to die. 

He had a horrible moment plague his thoughts, wondering if he was the one who had something to do with their deaths. He had no memory of returning home, but no, he wasn't capable of doing something that evil. He tried so hard to think who could have killed them, but nothing could come to mind. He got out of bed, as if he was in a trance. He dropped his phone, and he could faintly hear his sister pleading with him from the device. 

He walked straight to the kitchen, where he had a picture of Denise and Edward posing with him in the photo. This picture was taken a long time ago, right when he had met Denise for the first time. 

Something clicked in his brain. Peter let out a gasp, and he had to reach out for one of the kitchen chairs to maintain his balance. Tears of shock rained down his cheeks. 

It wasn't the ominous message that the blonde man had told Peter before he left him alone at the bar that left him shaken. 

It was the fact that Peter never told him his name. 

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Thank you for reading!

Emy Quinn