Tuesday, September 9, 2008

First New Years

I half-carried her up the stairs as she laughed and giggled. She smiled and flopped back dramatically, arms out as her tequila-laced, Midori-sweetened breath rolled out at me.

"Oh yeah, I am so drunk," she said, closing her eyes a second.

She opened her eyes and grabbed my neck, nearly pulling me off balance as I negotiated the doorway.

"Bathroom," she said. "Bathroom!"

I helped her in and she looked at me ruefully as I waited to assist. I regretted being so sober but was glad to get her home safely.

"Go away," she said, closing the door and kneeling before the porcelain god and preparing for her purgative purgatory.

I heard her leave the bathroom about 20 minutes later and helped her to the bed, slipping her brown boots off and getting her safely set up on the edge of the bed.

"I love you," she said. "I'm so drunk."

Sometimes I was, too, and for all the same reasons.