An Alcoholic Obsession

It was a month or so ago when I got into trouble. Since that time I've had a lot of firsts: first time in a fight, first time I ran out on a bill, first time I was ever shot at or stabbed. The list goes on. I won't go into details, because I don't have much time left.

It all started, as every tragic story does, with a girl. Deep black hair, hopeless-blue eyes; the kind you can get lost in. She had a reckless attitude as her only survival skill. Effortless beauty and a wealth of "character;" I had to have her.

We first met in a seedy bar in a not-so seedy part of town. I had just gotten off work and felt the need to drink my wage, the kind of day when I envy the dead. I saw her talking to the bartender as I downed my fourth or fifth glass. I ordered another as she moved to one of the shadowy booths that lined the bar wall. I gave a few fruitless glances, but her face was in the shadows. I didn't mind, I still had plenty to look at. She wore a skirt; I remember thinking it was weird, being January and all. It was black and came to just above the knee. It did wonders to her legs, making them look longer and more elegant. Her frame was a graceful beauty, the kind you only find in old paintings; back when the female body was something beautiful not an object. Time passed and I didn't care. As long as she was there, I would be too.

Someone came from the back of the bar and she stood up and followed. Not five minutes later she came walking back, alone. As she walked past she stopped. She leaned over and whispered in my ear "See you, Cowboy." She must have noticed me. I felt stupid. I had to talk to her. I had to follow her.

She had stolen my wallet. After promising the bartender I would pay him later I ran out the door in her wake. But she was gone and I didn't even get a name. A couple million people live in this city and it's still the loneliest place on earth. I walked home just me and the street lights.

A few days later there was a knock at my door. I ran to look through the peep hole. It was her. I played it cool and answered with a "Who is it?" She responded with "Your new friend, Cowboy. Now open up." I undid the dead bolts and opened the door. She was smiling. She wore smiles like gloss. She said she needed a place to stay, until "the heat was off." I didn't mind; first house guest in years.

It was my driver's license that led her to my place. Those things come in handy even if you don't own a car. I grabbed the Jack from the freezer and poured her some in a coffee mug. She was more beautiful than I remembered. Her face like a stream; calm and gentle on the surface, wild and dangerous underneath. Still elegant and gorgeous; she sat on my couch like a queen on her throne.

She told me a story. She needed money. Now owed it. She was in debt, like all of us. The exception was, credit card companies, banks, family, don't cut your hand off. We spent what was left of the night talking; what was left of her family and what happened to mine. I knew few people the way I now knew her.

It was only a few days before the nameless bad guys showed up. In hindsight I should have asked who they were, but in her presence she was all that mattered. We used the fire escape as they had broken, and were blocking, the only door. We ran through the alley and bumped into another. He looked just like you'd think, sunglasses, leather jacket. The works. It was in the act of bumping that he put the knife into my stomach. A calming heat spread over my abdomen. I punched him in the jaw a few times; it's harder then the movies make it look to knock a guy down. We made it to a hospital just as I was feeling light headed.

I remember waking up in the hospital. I know by the smell and blinding light. The other thing I remember was holding her hand and running bare foot through the halls. I called an old friend who put us up for the night, and only the night. I left him a 20 on the table and we went out for breakfast.

Steak and eggs. Coffee. A Goddess. My first breakfast.

A plan to escape was formed. We would spend one more week in the city to tie up loose ends, after that we would head for green pastures.

We spent that night in a homeless shelter, not too bad.

She needed to say good bye to some family so we had to find a pay phone. A task that proved hard. It was when she was on the phone that I was shot at. A weird noise a gun shot, more of a pop than a bang. Lucky for us this guy's aim was crap. We decided to split up and meet at the train station in two days, instead of the full week we had planned.

I quit my job, I was surprised I wasn't fired, and took all my money out of the bank. I said my good byes to coworkers and "friends," and remembered not to mention where I was headed.

That leaves me here, at the train station. I haven't seen my goddess yet, and the train leaves in five.