22
Pat sways on his seat. He looks… odd.
As I finish my drink – which was quite strong, to be fair – I wonder how many he’s had. Do bar staff drink while they work? I wouldn’t have thought so, and he didn’t seem drunk when I got here but, oh wow. He’s swaying on the spot.
‘So you… you’re… a wedding?’ he mumbles.
‘I’m going to a wedding?’ I repeat back to him, checking that’s what he means.
‘You’re… wed… mmm…’
Okay, he’s really slurring his words now.
‘Pat, are you okay?’ I ask him.
‘I’m…’
Oh boy, his eyes are rolling into the back of his head.
‘Pat?’ I say, placing a hand lightly on his arm.
I barely touch him but it’s enough to make him wobble and after a second or two of swaying he falls off his stool.
I quickly turn to the bar, to catch the attention of another employee.
‘Can you help?’ I call out.
‘Oh, shit, not again,’ one of them says, hurrying around to our side of the bar. Another man quickly follows.
‘Come on, Pat, let’s get you upstairs,’ one of them says as they hoist him up.
‘He’s just had too much to drink, we can take care of him,’ the other says.
‘Okay, thanks,’ I reply. ‘I don’t know what happened – he was fine, he had one drink, and we were chatting away, and then he just took a turn…’
‘Don’t worry,’ the first man reassures me. ‘Happens all the time. Downside to working in a bar.’
I watch as the two of them practically drag Pat away, disappearing into a back room with him.
What the hell just happened? He didn’t seem drunk before, I had the same drink as him and I’m fine… Oh my God. He must have taken something – he must be on some kind of drugs. Wow, okay, I know I wanted someone unimpressive to take to the wedding, but turning up with someone who gets himself in this kind of state would not be the vibe. They would just feel sorry for me, or get me in rehab. I want to take (to use their vocabulary) an unsavoury date, sure, but I want to seem like I’m living my best life. Being unapologetically not what they want me to be is how I win, right?
Well, it would be, but I think I’m finally shit out of luck. What are my options? My flight is in less than forty-eight hours, so I could go alone, but not only will that make me look like a loser, I’ll be a sitting duck, braving the lot of them alone. I could not go, and stay here, but then I’ll be spending my thirtieth birthday all on my own. My mum did invite me over to Connecticut, to celebrate with them, and as lovely as it would be to see her, I don’t know, it’s expensive, and I just don’t quite feel like I fit in there. Mum has her family, Dad has his family and I just feel sort of… loose.
With nothing else to stick around for, I head for the door. It was a stupid, stupid idea, to think that I could find some random man to take to the wedding with me. I really think something is going on in my brain, some background response to turning thirty, that is making me a little crazy.
‘Hey,’ Ethan says, popping up from nowhere.
Wow, speaking of crazy…
‘Are you spying on me?’ I accuse him, cutting to the chase, because he’s obviously up to something. ‘Stalking me, too?’
‘Just a little,’ he replies with a smile.
‘Okay, Joe fromYou, don’t you think that’s a bit creepy?’ I ask.
‘Just a little,’ he says again. ‘But I’m hoping you’ll find it charming.’
He walks with me, as I head for the door.
