Jonah

I counted seven people in the dimly lit bar, not including the overweight bartender who was half asleep, propped up against a cabinet of margarita mixes.  A new couple, fully immersed in their honeymoon phase, sat at a table as they giggled too loudly. Their giddiness was less than contagious. There were two men, presumably co-workers, both in suits looking worn from a long day’s work. A boy whose fake ID was sticking out of his pocket, threatening to fall out at any moment, wandered around.  A girl who would later go home with said boy, sat at the bar, sipping a drink and showing no interest in the edible flower that had been plucked from her c***tail. And the seventh was myself, sitting on a bar stool that was poorly assembled but just comfortable enough to merit another drink.

“Scotch on the rocks,” I stated when the the closest thing I had to a friend in here, asked if that would be all for the night.

The quiet Christmas music was annoying yet predictable. The lights that hung behind the bar looked tacky and they were clearly hung in a rush. I pictured wrapping the lights around my neck and ending it right now; putting myself out of this misery. They say that what doesn’t kill you makes you wish you were dead. I could’ve ended it. But I didn’t because the tie around my neck was torture enough and while sitting in this bar alone on Christmas Eve is worse than any personal hell I could’ve dreamt of, it had to be better than death.

But was it better? I reached my hand into my pocket and pulled out the thing that I had saved up so much money for; the thing that I kept in my pocket for two months straight before mustering up the courage to bring into the sunlight; the thing she threw at me two hours and eight drinks ago.

“That’s a nice ring you’ve got there,” the bartender observed. He was awake now. “Why isn’t it on some pretty girl’s finger?” he asked.

I wanted to tell him to mind his own damn business. Instead I glared at him and focused back on the ring.

“I am not an alcoholic,” I said or maybe I slurred it. It sounded clear to my ears, though, unlike the rest of the noise in the bar which all blended into a sort of static.

‘Yes, you are.’ I heard it say.

“I’m not!”  I protested. “I can stop anytime I want.” The giggling in the bar ceased and I felt everyone’s eyes hot on my back. “Watch,” I whispered. I stood up, stumbling only slightly. I grabbed my glass and a leftover fork from one of the tables. “May I have everyone’s attention?” I yelled, hitting the glass against the fork. I felt the chilled liquor splash against me but I didn’t acknowledge it.

“Go home,” I heard the girl with the c***tail say.

“Go to hell,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“See you there,” she scoffed. I debated whether or not I should curse her out but then I realized she was probably here because her daddy kicked her out.

“As I was saying…” I said, glaring at the girl. “Tonight is a celebration! Tonight is the birth of my sobriety.”

“And thus the death of my best customer,” the bartender whined from behind me.

“And as the only witnesses to this period of reformation, your drinks are on me. As my last night as a happy man, I will also be a generous one. Tonight, we drink.”

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Joe. Johnny. J...John? No. Joan? That’s a woman’s name, my subconscious remarked. Jonah. My name is Jonah. Everything was a blur. My cheeks were on fire and I lost my blazer somewhere along my walk from the bar to the bridge I was standing on. I barely remembered anything but I knew I had that damn ring in my hand. I was clutching it so tightly that I was sure it would go through my flesh and stay there as a constant reminder of everything that I lost.

“I’m stopping for you,” I said to it. My palm was red and sweaty with an imprint of a circle. The moon’s reflection on the diamond reminded me of her. The bottle of tequila in my left hand sloshed around noisily. I raised it to my lips and took another sip. ‘If she truly loved you, she would accept you for who you are. This is who you are,’ my inebriated subconscious said. I swallowed hard. ‘This is who you are.’

In one swift movement, or maybe it wasn’t swift...I suppose I wouldn’t remember anyway, I threw the ring over the bridge. “Screw you. I don’t need the change,” I screamed. “I’m Jonah Ellis! I’m Jonah Ellis.” I said.

I stared into the vat of black before me and stepped back, stumbling back into the street. The screeching of brakes and a flash of headlights greeted me. “Get out of the road!” a woman screamed. I clenched my jaw so tight that it hurt. I cursed the woman for having brakes that functioned. I walked further out into the street and up the sidewalk. I hailed a cab, forgetting that I spent all of my money on drinks and got in, reciting my address like I was so used to doing.
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“Please, sir, this is my job.”

“I don’t have any money, man,” I promised. “You can frisk me for all I care. Come on, you look like a guy who’d be into that, frisk me!”

“You know what? Good luck, buddy. I feel sorry for you,” the cab driver said with a bunch of phony concern in his voice.

“Screw you, I don’t need your sympathy!”

“Merry Christmas!” He said as his tires peeled away.

At least I wasn’t the only one alone. At least taxi drivers were alone on Christmas, too. But they aren’t alone. They had a constant companion. I ran my fingers through my hair and exhaled. I staggered up the steps to my apartment and pushed through the door, dropping my keys on the ground and rushing to the bathroom.
I emptied the contents of my stomach. It only took about four times but after the fourth, I felt better. I drank two water bottles and splashed my face with cold water. I stared at myself in the mirror, unable to recognize the stranger staring back. My face was worn and the brown in my hair was fading to grey. My eyes lost all the green that they once held. The youth drained from my face in seconds. And then I broke.
My fist was numb as it flew into the mirror. The shards scathed my forearm. I heard screaming and looked around for the source until I realized it was me. I ran my hands along my face. There were tears pouring from my eyes. My emotions took over my body and it was like I’d lost all control.
I threw myself onto my bed and tried to take deep breaths like my therapist always said to do. ‘Find a square in the room and as your eyes travel along the top, inhale. As they move down the side, exhale. Go around the square three times.’ he always said. So I did it. ‘Now focus on a memory that puts you in a happy place.’

So I did:

“You are all that I want. You’re like this beacon of light...guiding me through the darkness. You are a part of me and you’ve become so crucial to me that without you, I’m lost. I’m going to steal the words of Mr. Darcy because I am not a romantic man. Katherine Campbell, I never wish to be parted from you from this day on. Will you marry me?”

“Yes, I will marry you,” she sobbed, throwing her arms around my neck.

“You will?” I asked in disbelief.

“Of course, you idiot,” she laughed. “I love you more than anything.”

Through nervous laughs and choked sobs, I slid the ring onto her finger. I pressed my lips against hers in a soft kiss as I welcomed the future of the rest of my life.

I reached into my pocket to take out the ring. It wasn’t there. I patted my back pockets and searched my entire body. ‘Now you’ve really lost her, you drunk,’ my subconscious sang. “No. No, no, no, no. No!” I shouted. I grabbed my keys and marched out of my apartment and back to that bridge.

It took two hours to find the exact bridge I was at. I stood at the edge, squatted, eyes squinted as I searched the pavement. I stood up, my tears dripping onto my dress shirt now. I stood near the bridge and looked over. I’d thrown it over, I must have. ‘Go get it. There could still be hope.’
I climbed onto the railing and stood up, staring straight into the vat of black that turned out to be a better companion than any bartender I’d met.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” I whispered. I leaned forward into the wind.

*   *   *   *   *
Katherine

I was there when they pulled his body out of the river. He was wearing the tie I got him for his birthday and despite the paleness of his face and the loss of life in his eyes, he was still my Jonah. They told me that I needed to go to the hospital to identify the body. I wasn’t sure I would survive seeing him after what I did to him. It was all my fault.

“Ma’am?”

I looked up. My eyes were swollen and my lips were still quivering.

“He didn’t have any belongings on him...but we did find this near the bridge,” she said, handing me a small bag. I saw it shine the moment the bag touched my fingertips. “It was a beautiful ring,” she whispered with a solemn and sympathetic smile.

“It still is,” I whimpered, taking it out and closing my palm around it. “Excuse me,” I said, standing up. I stumbled out of the hospital and to the bar across the street. It was a sad thought but moreover ironic: a bar across from the hospital. Smart owners.

“Scotch on the rocks, please.” It was his drink; his favorite.

“Good choice. I always hoped that my impeccable taste in liquor would rub off on your one day.” he would’ve said with that smirk he always wore.

“That’s a drink fit for a man,” the bartender grinned. I set the ring on the table and began to cry once again. What a man he was; so troubled. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. He leaned over the bar and eyed me. “Wait a minute, I know that ring!”

I sniffled, sitting up. “You do?”

“You’re the pretty girl that he was getting sober for, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Poor guy came in here with that ring. He said he was going to sober up to win back his girl. Then he drank until he didn’t remember his own name.”

That sounded like my Jonah.

“So did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Did he win you back?”

I thought about ruining the bartender’s night and telling him the truth: that Jonah Ellis was found at the bottom of the river barely four hours ago. But I didn’t. I simply slid the ring back onto my finger and stared at it; I stared at the object that had signified a promise: Jonah’s promise; his promise of eternal and undeniable love along with a promise of sobriety.

“Yes.” I said softly, the words but a ghost falling from my lips. “You did it, Jonah. You did it.”  I ordered another scotch and then I drank until I didn’t remember my own name.