The Mailer Review/Volume 13, 2019/Silent Night: Difference between revisions

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 someone said how good looking he was. He leaned over and gave me a wet kiss on the cheek, grabbed my empty glass and slipped from the table.
+We knew how to get drunk quickly and efficiently, something the dol- drums of our small town fostered. There was no pretending to pace things. There were never any regrets for what we did when we were drunk. I knew Carol and I had that in common. Wherever she was that night, she was doing what I was doing, and maybe more—maybe not the cocaine yet, but she was smoking pot and drinking, and she was a happy, funny, entertaining drunken girl. She may have been at a party of her own, or at the movies, or hanging out with friends in their cars, the cars lined up in the bowling alley parking lot. And maybe she would drink too much and argue with her date and take off into the night, her high heeled boots striking the pavement in that ring- ing way, a pint of blackberry brandy in her coat pocket. We did that, too, often enough—struck out on our own into the darkness, the air burning our lungs, some boy trailing after us in the car. “Get in the car, please,” and then finally slamming on the brakes and chasing us down. We were a danger to ourselves, we needed to be corralled and brought back.
+Paul delivered my drink and he slipped me a pill—some sort of pain pill he’d told me earlier in the truck he’d swiped from his mother.
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 [[Category:Short Stories (MR)]]