NAOMI had no labour complications. She was discharged the day after her delivery. The baby is a handful. She cries when she's not sleeping or eating. Day, night, midnight—the baby cries. On the day the baby clocks four days old, Gavin and Naomi take her to the hospital.
"Doc, she won't stop crying." Naomi laments.
"Are you feeding her well?" The doctor asks.
"The exclusive breastfeeding technique. No matter how much she's fed, once she's no longer fed, she just cries. She sleeps, wakes, and continues crying. I've not had a good night's rest since I was discharged from the hospital."
"I attest to that," Gavin interjects. "I never get any sleep when I'm at home too. It's always a loud cry straining my ears."
The doctor smiles. "Some babies have it quite tough blending with their environment when they are born. She is familiar with having some quiet and alone time in the womb. She will come around. Give her time."
Naomi and Gavin went back home unconvinced. The baby didn't come around. Initially, Gavin was happy about her birth because he felt he had found something exciting about his life—finally. However, after a week of her fervent cries, Gavin started imagining how amazing things would have been if his sister and parents were alive. He'd suppose his parents would have known what to do with the baby to stop the cries.
He's frustrated. Only a week into fatherhood and he's started re-evaluating the thought of having more than one child. He decides he won't go home immediately after work today. His mind is too conflicted to start dealing with the baby's stress. Moreover, Greg has been an amazing uncle.
I should sit in a bar to think. Greg will help Naomi with the baby. Greg is good with babies, he has been superb with her.
Gavin visits a nearby bar after he closes from work.
In the bar, he sits—his face in his palms, neck tilted. He meditates. He loves his wife and newborn baby. He adores them. But he's currently a mess. He's engulfed in this phase. He wishes he could go somewhere alone for weeks and just absorb the pain for as long as it is overwhelming. But he can't leave his wife and brother. They need one another now more than ever. Everything has happened so fast. He wishes his daughter had come later—when he might have moved past the pain. She's come too early into his sadness phase and he can't even give attention to any creature in his present state of mind.
"Stop over to drink, not to think." A voice speaks behind Gavin.
Gavin lifts his neck to see the intruder. He feels his thoughts are being interrupted, his privacy—private time—intruded. He observes that the man is wearing an apron. Beneath the apron is a white long-sleeved shirt neatly tucked into black trousers. Gavin doesn't need a messiah to tell him this intruder works in the bar.
"Sorry?" Gavin responds, after flipping his eyes through the man's body from head to toe.
"Our motto. That's our motto." The man responds.
"And your role here is?"
"I'm the bartender. Call me Reff. I see you are brooding. That's a taboo here. We have drinks that clear sorrows."
"Oh," Gavin scoffs. "Are those sorrow-free drinks branded?"
"Hmm. I will let you in on a secret because you are a first-timer." Reff lowers his mouth to Gavin's ear. "Reff's Wreck is the best drink we sell here."
"Reff's Wreck?" Gavin grins. "Why that name?"
"It's my recipe. That's what the Reff there stands for. The Wreck in front of it signifies that you will get intoxicated for sure. On top of all that, it tastes sensational!"
"Good marketing skills you've got going on. I will have one, please. Let me see if my troubles will be really drowned." Gavin shrugs.
"Be right back." Reff assures as he walks away.
Reff returns, after a few minutes, with a glass of drink. The cocktail exhibits two colours—blue from the base to the middle, and yellow from the middle to the top. At the tip of the cup is a triangular cut of pineapple with its thin end gripping the top of the glass and its bigger base hanging over the glass. There are ice cubes in the drink and a spiral straw that's slightly higher than the pineapple cut.
"This looks good." Gavin nods.
"It tastes better." Reff smiles.
"You are sure the alcohol content of this alluring sight is enough to wreck me?"
"Ah. A trial will convince you. Enjoy your drink." Reff walks away.
Gavin sips the drink through the straw. He's intrigued. He gulps the whole content and he belches. To his surprise, he realises his thoughts are gradually obscuring. He walks to the counter and sits on a high stool. He sees Reff—with his back turned—rearranging bottles on a shelf at the other side of the counter.
"Reff!" He shouts so he will be heard over the loud music.
Reff turns to face where the voice called him from. He smiles when he realises it is Gavin. He moves towards the counter.
"Good review, isn't it?" Reff smiles.
"Great review. That drink is super cool. May I get another glass of the cocktail, please?"
"Whoa. Careful there. One glass of Reff's Wreck will drown your thoughts, but a second glass will get you wasted. I wouldn't recommend."
"Glad I'm not under eighteen, so I won't be having a use for alcohol recommendations." Gavin strains his eyebrows.
"Your call." Reff raises his hands in surrender.
Reff grabs a glass and mixes some beverages which results in the same drink he served Gavin earlier.
Gavin gulps the drink anew.
"Okay. You realise the straw is not for aesthetics, right?" Reff asks.
"The straw will slowly sink my sorrows. The gulp will graciously drown my thoughts." Gavin shrugs.
Gavin is starting to feel tipsy. He's no longer reminiscing about life before the diagnosis of his sister's ailment. He's basking in the glory of the moment, worry-free. He feels relieved. He loves this feeling.
"One more serving." He lifts his glass to Reff.
"You are sure about that?" Reff frowns.
Gavin nods.
This time, he uses the straw. He sips slowly. He sips his way to drunkenness. He's become sluggish. It takes him about an hour to empty the glass.
Completely wasted, he points to Reff and stammers. "What's…my…bill?"
"I told you not to drink that much. You can barely get words out of your mouth now." Reff frowns.
"Never mind…I…have some…cash…here." Gavin delves his hands into his hip pockets. He slaps rumpled money notes on the counter. "That should cover the bill," he closes his eyes, rests his back, and flings his head back like he's about to slumber.
"You have some change." Reff speaks.
"Keep it. I should…go…home. Where's…my…car key?" Gavin stutters. He opens his eyes and staggers to his feet. He taps his body until he finds his keys in his back pocket. "Oh. Found…it. See…you…later…okay?" Gavin waves his hand.
"Wait. You are too drunk to drive. Do you remember your address?" Reff inquires.
"Huh?" Gavin stares blankly.
"Just hold on," Reff walks out from behind the counter. He searches Gavin's body, hoping he's lucky to find his wallet. Luck smiles upon him. "Found it! Let me see if your ID card is in it," Reff flips Gavin's wallet open. "78, Konsize Street. Okay." He nods as he races his eyes through a card in Gavin's wallet. "Sit here. I will call you a cab." He lowers Gavin's buttocks to the high stool he was initially sitting on.
Reff dials a driver's contact.
"Your ride is here," Reff tells Gavin who is now almost asleep. "Let me support you outside." Reff raises Gavin's arm across his shoulders and supports staggering Gavin outside. He lowers him into the backseat of the car. "78, Konsize Street. Take your fee." Reff pays the driver.
Naomi and Greg are sitting outside when a taxi pulls up in front of their house. They walk towards the taxi.
"My goodness. Please, what happened to him?" Naomi asks the driver as she sees Gavin stagger out of the car.
"He got drunk in a bar. The bartender asked me to bring him home. His addy is on his ID card."
"Thank you. How much is the fare?" Greg asks.
"It's already sorted. Good night."
The taxi driver revs his car engine and drives off.
Naomi and Greg support Gavin inside the house and sit him on the couch. Naomi is crying. "Gavin, why? When did this start? It's 11:38 p.m. You got so drunk that you had to be driven home. Gavin?" Naomi sobs.
Greg hugs Naomi. "It's okay. Let him rest. He can't answer much now. He's too far gone." Greg rubs Naomi's back as she sobs on his chest.
They unbutton Gavin's shirt and empty his pockets. Both of them start leaving the parlour for their respective rooms, abandoning drunk Gavin on the couch, when Gavin stammers a statement. "I'm too…distraught. I'm…sorry, Naams. I…love…you."
The next morning, Gavin wakes up with a headache. He rolls his eyes. This was always his reason for avoiding excess alcohol. He hates the subsequent headache that comes the next morning, from being hungover the previous night. However, for the first time ever, he loves how relieved he felt when he was drunk. It felt as if all his sorrows had been buried. Now that he's sober, the worries are refreshed. Gavin sighs. He walks to his bedroom. To his surprise, Naomi is awake.
"Good morning, Naams. Why are you up so early?" Gavin asks.
"A parent that's not drunk has to take care of the baby, I suppose." Naomi flickers her eyelids at Gavin.
"Concerning that, I apologise for the inconvenience. I…"
"Which of the inconveniences are you apologising for?" Naomi interrupts Gavin. "The part where you had me and Greg worried sick? Or the part when we had to go to your company to make enquiries about your movement and they told us you clocked out immediately it was closing time? Or the part in which Greg and I couldn't sleep because we thought something had happened to you? Or the part where we called your phone several times but you missed all? 11:38 p.m., Gavin. You drank yourself to a stupor until almost midnight. We were worried to death here. Meanwhile, you were out enjoying yourself the whole time." Naomi snaps.
"I left my phone in my car because I didn't want any disturbances. I didn't know you and Greg were calling me."
"You tag my calls as disturbances?"
"Interruption. I mean I didn't want my meditation to be interrupted."
"Same difference."
"I'm genuinely sorry for all the trouble I put you through. I didn't mean to be intoxicated, or more honestly, not that intoxicated. I simply wanted some alone time. Then I was tempted to try a cocktail. I liked how it felt and I continued drinking until I escaped reality. You, of all people, know that I'm not big on drinking. I'm sorry, Naams."
"For how long more do you intend to allow this pain to control you? Pain can also be used productively. It can be a form of character development. In your case, you are not using the pain. You are allowing the pain to use you. I feel alone in your presence."
"I've never been one to handle pain well. I know I can't bring them back, but I can't take my mind off of them easily either. I should go get my phone from the car." Gavin turns his right thumb in a backwards bend, pointing outside.
"Oh. You still don't get the drill. You couldn't drive home last night. You were too wasted. A taxi brought you home. When we emptied your pockets, we didn't see your phone. But now that you say you left it in the car, it all makes sense. Your car key is in its usual spot."
"I came home with my car key but not with my car? Wow. I didn't know I was that stupid. I remembered the addy?"
"The driver said it was on your ID card. He also told us not to worry about payment because it had been sorted."
"That was probably Reff's doing."
"Who's Reff?"
"Never mind. I apologise again. I should prepare for work." Gavin undresses and enters the bathroom. He brushes his teeth and bathes. He returns to the room and dresses up.
When he gets to the sitting room, he sees Greg.
"Hola. Here comes the barman." Greg teases.
"What's good, kid bro?" Gavin scoffs. "I'm sorry about yesterday. Naomi told me about the stress both of you had to go through because of me. You know I'm usually not like that."
"It's all good. I want to make some toast bread. You care for some?"
"Yes, please. I need some pain-relief tablets for this pain pounding in my head."
"Perks of a hangover," Greg chuckles. "I need not remind you of how implicating booze can be to your medical condition, you know. A drunkard of a sickler sounds very endangering." Greg raises his eyebrows.
"You need not."
"Good. Let me get on with the toast." Greg starts walking away.
"Greg," Gavin calls.
Greg stops walking and turns to Gavin. "Yeah?"
"How do you succeed in getting past pain so quickly?"
Greg shrugs. "I don't know. Don't dwell in the past so much that you discard the present. Problems and pain will always arise. And life can never be a bed of roses. We are all living to die, so it's only reasonable that one enjoys his/her little mission on this journey called life, regardless of the obstacles. The day you agree with that, wholeheartedly, is the day you undauntedly supersede your sorrows."
"My brain agrees with all those. However, my mind refuses to comply. My head is wrapped around it, but my mind won't follow suit. I envy your strength to move past pain."
"We adapt to situations in varying timeframes. Give yourself time." Greg convinces.
"Hmmm. I guess you are right. Also, you will be dropping me off at the bar this morning, please? I need to pick up my car. And my phone."
"Can you afford my chauffeuring services?" Greg teases.
"I will tell my accountant to disburse your charges," Gavin responds in wry humour.
"We should be fast though. We will eat the toast in the car. I don't want to be late for work. You know I will have to drive a longer distance because of the detour you require."
"Of course. I'm ready when you're ready."
"Okay. Off I go to prepare some toast."
When Gavin alighted from Greg's car, the bar hadn't opened for the day. He decided he would come after work to thank Reff. He got in his car and drove to work.
After closing from work, Gavin heads to the bar.
"Hey, Reff. Gavin, remember?" Gavin converses as he sits on a high stool by the counter.
"Reff's Wreck. Certainly." Reff chuckles.
"Yo, man. Thank you so much for having a brother's back last night. I'm really grateful. I had to come here to appreciate you."
"That's a regular assignment in my profession." Reff nods.
"The payment for the taxi…"
"You had change yesternight. I paid him with your change." Reff interrupts Gavin.
"Thanks a lot, man."
Gavin stands and starts walking away. He's at the bar entrance when he turns back and walks towards the counter. "You know what, I want that Reff's Wreck again." He says to Reff as he grabs a high stool.
"Are you sure?" Reff raises his eyebrows in disbelief.
"I wish you'd stop asking me that question like I'm an adolescent. This time though, I should pay beforehand to avoid being a liability."
"Customers are always right." Reff sighs.
Gavin didn't consume one glass. He consumed three servings of Reff's Wreck again. Again, a taxi drove him home. Day in, day out—he maintained that lifestyle. He goes to work in the morning. In the evening, he visits the bar. He comes home drunk in the dead of the night or, more often, at midnight—in a taxi. He leaves his car in the bar every night. He continues this for weeks. Greg and Naomi no longer wait for Gavin's return before they go to bed. They stopped complaining because Gavin wasn't attempting to drop his new habit.
On weekends, he either leaves the house to go drink or he locks himself in an isolated room and drinks. He avoids being sober, except when he's at work. So far his drunkenness helps him escape his pain, he is inclining himself with it.