Don’t You Listen?
“I can’t turn my back on him again,” Sal says.
“Sure you can,” I says, I says “it takes almost no effort.”
Sal gets a little dramatic when he’s drinking, and gets to thinking too much. We’ve been at it for a little while now, so this doesn’t really surprise me all that much. I just pop open another bottle using the bottom of Sal’s lighter and hope to drink past this feelings stage.
“It’s not a joke, man, all right?” Sal says, he goes, “quit just brushing this off, like he isn’t in need of some help.”
Sal’s a tall skinny guy with glasses and piercings, pencil like in stature, but right now he’s sitting all bent over, like his torso is hanging off of his spine, his hands hanging off his wrists as he holds a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other.
“Oh, he’s in need of some help,” I says, I go, “but I’m not helping that fuck, fuck him, guy wants to come here? Piss in my garage? Rip coke in my bathroom with my parents home? He’s a fuckin low life, I’m done with him.”
“Come on, how long ago was that? How long we’ve known him? Come on,” Sal says.
“What do you think we’re gonna do? Show him god? Make him quit, he’s not quittin, not anytime soon, probably not never” I go.
“It’s not like he’s 45 years old, we’re still kids, practically, he’s not a lost cause,” Sal says.
“Look,” I tell him, I says “take us, for example, yea we like to have a good time,” I scan the room with my hands, “like right now, we can relax, have a good time, but we can control ourselves, him, his thing is a whole other thing, there’s no control there.”
Sal starts to say something, but I cut him off, I says,
“nobody controls him neither, take that into account. We tried to control him last night, did we not? Guy tries to fight us for trying to take his keys. No controlling that guy, no talking to that guy.”
I point at Sal with that last remark as if saying “I got you there with that one Sallie boy,” and I finish my drink and grab for another, and grab another for Sal, the Sun breaks out from behind the rain clouds for the first time today, momentarily blinding Sal, he reassembles his pencil like stature and goes folding into another seat away from the light.
“Yea there’s no talking to him when he’s like that, that why we gotta talk to him when he’s sober, you know?” Sal says, he goes, “You should tell him to come over, have a beer and talk things over, get it out in the open.”
“Sallie, listen to yourself,” I says, I point to the floor with my palms facing outwards towards Sal, “I’m here tellin you the guy has no control, you’re tellin him to come over for a drink, don’t you listen? Don’t you hear me?”
“Oh Christ, I said just one or two,” Sal says.
Sal finishes his beer and lights up a cigarette, he tosses me his lighter as I do the same, and open two more and pass Sal’s to him. I look out the window for a moment and consider that it might be nice out now, maybe we’ll go out and see in a little bit.
“One or two,” I says, I go, “guy probably can’t count to one or two anymore, can’t count to six, he fast forwards to twenty, guy’s a loser Sallie, guys not like you or me, can’t have just one or two like us, relax like us, have a few, guys a fuckin loser, I’m done with him.”
We sit in silence for a while, and drink our drinks. I consider what was said, and wonder if I have any more to add, I could go on but I think he gets the point, but I could go on, but I won’t. I finish my drink and pack the empties back into the discarded pack. After I take a leak, I go to retrieve another twelve pack from the fridge in the garage. I smirk as I look at the wall where I found the piss stain from that guy, the stains faded away now, like it was never the there, it disappeared into thin air.