25th hour

Current mood: reflective

Current music: Nothing…Der’s music doesn’t aid my reflection

She sat there surfing the internet with the carefree childishness an 18 year old still posesses.  She didn’t really care what she was looking at–it was more a way to pass the time.

She was broken from her daze by a slight tapping at the back door located directly to the right of where she sat.  She stood, reluctantly, typing some last words to the constant Instant messages flashing their importance across her screen, then moved over to the back door, sliding the makeshift curtian (a blue bath towel, long since faded from the sun) out of the way to peer into the night.  A friendly face stared back at her with a careless smile much like her own.

Her eyes glinted with a confused sort of recognition; she hadn’t seen the girl in a long time and the time being well into the early morning hours, she didn’t quite know what to think.  She quietly unlocked the door and opened it.

“Hey, you want to come out here?”  the girl asked with the same sort of sad looking smile.

She nodded, asking the girl to wait a second then moving back to the keyboard to type her goodbyes to the people behind the IMs.  She grabbed a hoodie and stepped out into the slightly chill spring night.

“I’m sorry it’s so late… my mom doesn’t know I’m out here.  Hey, you remember when you promised we’d get drunk together?”

She cocked a brow.  She did remember saying that but the offer was somewhat unusual at a time like this.

The girl didn’t wait for a response but removed the bottle from a backpack she’d taken off her shoulder.  She looked at it, inspecting the label.  About a 5th of $6 whiskey but, hell, she felt up to anything, not wanting to disappoint her friend.

The girl unscrewed the lid, took a healthy swig and passed it to her.  She took it, took a smaller swig and handed it back.

“I know it’s weird but I had to do this now cuz tomorrow I’m gone.”

She cocked a brow, not knowing exactly what the girl meant by this cryptic phrase.  The girl took the bottle and drank again, then looked at her deadpan.

“Jail.”

The two had grown up together practically since birth.  Their familes were friends and for a long time, they were babysat together.  She could remember times where they’d sing aloud in the front yard to the Backstreet Boys, not caring who listened, not caring about a thing in the world.  She could remember slumber parties with ghost stories, staying up all night and seeing who fell asleep first.  She could remember birthday after birthday, laughter, tears, friendship and even anger.  She’d loved her like a sister–even called her one.  Now jail.

The girl had had her share of problems in the past–running away from home, minor offenses such as smoking under the legal age… nothing like this.  Nothing worth jail.  Whatever had happened wasn’t mentioned.  The girl knew of her standing in the older girl’s eyes.  The girl knew that she couldn’t handle the disapproval and pain.

So they drank.  They laughed, they remembered and they drank.  She drank until she forgot how it hurt and the girl drank until she forgot how scared she was.  They ended the night with a hug and a peck on the cheek.

Eat, drink and be merry for tomorrow we die.

Parting Thoughts:  She’s still in jail… probably until she’s 18.  2 more years or so.  Meth, if you’re curious.  Thanks for letting me vent.