“Do you ever come here with him?”
“I came with him twice after he retired,” I recollect fondly. “He passed away six years ago.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
He stares quietly at me for a moment, then changes the subject.
“Sunrises or sunsets?”
“Huh?” I crack a smile.
“A little game of this or that. We drink after each answer.”
“That sounds a little dangerous.”
“The goal is for you to obliterate the douchebag, right?”
“Right.”
“This will get you there really fast.”
Normally, I wouldn’t take part in such a juvenile drinking game. Normally, I wouldn’t be out a bar like this at all. I’d be at home studying for the board certification exam while Troy watched something on television. It was a dependable, comfortable existence, but now everything’s been turned upside down.
“I’m game.”
Anything to forget this day.
“Sunrises or sunsets?” He repeats.
“Sunsets,” I answer.
“Drink,” he orders. “Now think about the most amazing sunset you’ve ever seen.”
I take a sip of my margarita and think about the red and purple hued sunset I witnessed while on a Hawaiian vacation. It’s the most expensive gift my mom ever gave me for graduating from medical school.
“Salty or sweet?”
“Sweet.”
“Good, now think about the last deliciously sweet thing you’ve eaten.”
“This margarita?” I lick some sugar off of the rim of the glass.
“Uh, no, not that,” he says gruffly. “Something that made you squint your eyes shut because it was so good.”
I think about the tin of brownies a patient’s mom brought to the clinic. They were decadent and downright sinful, and I dreamed about those little chewy chocolate squares of heaven long after the entire office devoured them.
The stranger smiles.
“Now drink.”
He pushes one of his shots towards me.
“Have this one. The server is bringing us some more.”
I hesitate for a moment. I don’t really like the taste of straight liquor, but he made a point earlier. If I drink too many of these margaritas, I won’t be able to eat for ten days and I’ve got to go back to work in two.
“What is it?” I ask, killing time.
