Drunk Last Night - 1. Chapter 1

“What happened this time?”

“I called him.”

“Again?” Elijah rubbed his hand over his face and gripped his forehead in frustration. “Seriously Nate. You can’t keep doing this.”

Nate stared across the well-worn Formica table at his friend and exhaled. The fact that Elijah was probably his only remaining friend did little to soften the blow of what he’d said. It had been a double punch in the gut to wake up with a hangover the size of Texas and the certain knowledge that he’d fucked up again and called his ex while he was drunk.

“Tell me what happened?”

“I’ve no idea.” Nate stopped speaking as the waitress came by, all big smiles and bouncing blond ringlets. She deposited coffee, cola and a heaped plate of bacon and grits in front of Nate and the young man wondered why on earth he’d ordered anything when half his body was still telling him to throw up. The other half wanted him to lie down in a dark room and never go near a bottle of Jack Daniel’s ever again. “I don’t remember what I said, I just remember breaking down.”

“Explains where you vanished off to anyways.” Elijah snagged the fork and the plate of breakfast and began to eat. “What set you off this time? Full moon was it?”

“Fuck off Eli.”

“Hey now…” Elijah smiled. “That’s the headache talking. Here, have an aspirin.”

“A shot of whiskey and Vicodin would be better…” Nate scowled, but he took the tablet anyway. “I have no idea Eli. I had a second drink and maybe there was a guy who looked a bit like him… I dunno. It just all came rushing back at me and it fucking hurts.”

Elijah sighed heavily and looked his friend up and down. Hangovers never made anyone look better, but Nate looked like he’d been smacked around the head with a freight train and dragged for half a dozen miles under the wheels of his truck. His usual sunny countenance was marred by the dark circles under dark eyes, the way his wavy hair was scraped back over his head, and his generally dishevelled appearance. Nate was a good looking guy, but in the harsh light of midmorning in the diner he really did look like a man who’d been stomped all over by love and heartbreak.

“I should never have suggested you come out to the bar.”

“And if you hadn’t there would’ve been some song on the radio and that would have been enough.” Nate sniffed and sipped his coffee with a scowl. “It’s not your fault. Fuck, I always forget I don’t like coffee.”

“Why’d you order it?”

“Because he drank it. I only used to order it for him. Now I seem to order it whenever I fucking sit down.”

Elijah ate the remainder of the bacon and laid down his fork, staring at his friend.

“Nate, in the nicest possible way, you’re a mess.” Elijah sighed. “I know you were a bit far gone last night, but you’ve got to get over this guy.”

“Yeah…” Nate stared into the bubbles rising in his glass. “If only it was that easy eh?”

Elijah had to leave for the second shift at the garage, and promised he’d call round later with pizza. Nate didn’t really want the company, but it was way better than being alone and screwing up again. This was not even the fifth or sixth time he’d called when drunk, or slightly drunk, and Nate had lost count sometime within the first month after the break had become the break-up and the man he loved had packed all his stuff and left.

Every time he promised himself he wouldn’t do it again. Because it never helped, and far from his original half formed idea what somehow they could fix whatever it was that had been broken between them, it only seemed to make them both angrier with each other. It was true Nate had no idea what he had said, but he’d got it all off his chest by bringing up everything that had gone wrong. The petty fights over whose turn it was too buy the milk, over taking out the trash, the weekend Nate had been too busy at the farm to drive out and meet the parents-in-law. And that always devolved into shouting, screaming, blame being thrown back and forth about arguments which in themselves had been nothing, but where neither of them had been willing to back down. It got everything out in the open, but Nate always felt worse afterwards. He wasn’t the only one who had ended up in tears.

There was something about rain at midnight, Nate reflected as he laid down some cash to cover the bill, then stuffed his ball cap on his head and headed out of the diner, hands in pockets. The rain in the middle of the night reminded him of the man he’d lost, because it always seemed to be raining whenever he thought of them together.

*

They’d met in the rain, one of those torrential downpours which come out of a clear spring sky and soak everyone within minutes as though they had all fallen in the bath fully dressed. Nate had been in his truck. It had been new then, his twenty third birthday present to himself, the only really new thing he had ever bought. A brand new Dodge Ram, all white and chrome trim, black leather interior, big wheel arches, bull bars, KC headlights, the whole shebang. He’d been idling down Main when the rain had come down, and had turned the radio down low to listen to the rain battering against the car. He’d slowed before the stop light and looked out the window to see a man cowering under his Resistol rancher hat, being pelted by the rain.

“Get in!” Nate reached across to open the door. “QUICK!”

The stranger hadn’t needed telling twice, and within moments the door was shut, the rain was continuing to tumble down out of the sky and there was a soaked and slightly shivery man in Nate’s previously pristine passenger seat.

“Jesus… there’s a towel in the back somewhere. Nate leant on the foot brake, twisted, and found the item in question. “Please…”

“Thanks.” The stranger removed his hat and scowled. “Felt is not designed for this much rain. Fuck.” He scrubbed at his hair, and with the towel over his face, Nate took the opportunity to stare at his body. Soaking wet shirt and jeans only emphasized what he saw. Strong, powerful shoulders and the kind of abs you could use to scrub your washing on, long legs, lean, and finished off with cowboy boots. The towel ended up in the strangers lap.

Even with his hair scrawled all over the place by a combination of wet and scrubbing, he was beautiful. Dark eyes, long lashes and a deep tan which had to have been more than what was left over from the previous summer. The stranger smiled.

“Thanks for the rescue…”

“Nate.” He answered the unasked question. “It’s fine. You’re the first person to sit there.”

“Oh God!” The man suddenly tried to lift himself away from the car, which was sort of impossible. “I’m shedding water all over your truck!”

“It’s fine.” Nate couldn’t help but smile. “It’ll dry out I expect.”

“D’ya say it was new?” The man began to finger the leather and chrome trim on the console. “Top model. Must have cost you a dime or few.”

“It’s a present to myself.” Nate stretched in the seat, and smiled around at the inside of his new truck. “I was twenty three last week.” Nate swiped his thumb over the little picture on the dash. “And I got a bucking bull into the PBR. I figured I deserved a truck that actually ran.”

“You’re a stock contractor? That’s cool. My brother rides, but not professionally.”

“You ride?”

“Only for pleasure. I couldn’t stay on a bronc or a bucking bull if my life depended on it.” He smiled and ran a hand through his hair, trying to sort it into a semblance of neatness. “I can’t believe this fucking weather.”

“You need to be somewhere? I’ll give you a lift.”

“No. I mean, you’re busy…”

Nate shook his head quickly and smiled. The handsome man in his passenger seat was blushing ever so slightly.

“I’m not busy. I was jus’ driving around with nothin’ to do.”

“Oh, OK then.”

So Nate had driven him home, back to an apartment on twelfth, and it had stopped raining just as Nate killed the engine in the little parking lot out front of the building.

“Umm…” The man had fiddled with his ruined hat as he opened the door. “If you’re still not doing anything in particular tomorrow evening, maybe you’d like to come to dinner with me?”

*

It had been raining the first time they kissed.

Nate had dressed up for what turned out to be the best first date in the history of first dates, worn his good jeans, polished his boots and dusted off the fleece of his sheepskin flying jacket. They had agreed to meet at the restaurant, and Nate couldn’t remember being more nervous in his life. He fully expected his date to be late, but no. He’d gotten there early, and stood when Nate walked in. Now that they were both on their feet, Nate was surprised to have to look up into the dark eyes.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Nate could feel himself being checked up and down. “You look great.”

“You too.” His date had arrived looking much dryer and neater than previously, and had a leather jacket hanging loose over his not inconsiderable shoulders. “Thank you so much for yesterday. I’d have been drowned without you.”

“And that would have been such a waste.” Nate grinned. “Shall we sit down?”

Nate had never been able to remember what he had ordered, only that after hours of talking and finding things out about each other (they had been to the same high school, but four years apart and had more than one friend in common) they had shared a lemon meringue pie with ridiculously crisp pastry and Nate had fed his date fluffy white meringue off his own fork.

The waitress nearly had to kick them out, it got so late, and they were both giggly and silly as they got their stuff together to leave. Nate’s date hung his jacket over his shoulders and held the door for him as they walked out.

“It’s rainin’ again.” Nate glanced up at the thin clouds. The stars were still out, shining down over them, illuminating the light rain. Nate turned to look up at his handsome date. “You look good in the rain.”

“You too.” He stepped closer, biting his lower lip. “I’d kinda like to kiss you now.”

Nate reached out, wrapped his hand around the back of his date’s neck and stood on his toes for the hottest kiss of his life.

*

It had rained the day they’d moved in together. Nate had helped haul all of his boyfriend’s furniture and possessions in while it poured down. They had shouted to each other across the truck, shouted at each other when a suitcase of best Sunday suits had broken open into a puddle, and shouted their apologies through the pouring rain. They had traded kisses back and forth over the delivery of bags and boxes, and continued kissing in the shower to try and get warm. They had ordered pizza and snuggled up in bed watching awful television until they fell asleep in each other’s arms while the rain poured down outside.

*

It had rained the last time they kissed. Nate hadn’t known at the time it would be the last time their lips ever met. He had kissed his boyfriend in that sleepy early morning manner of people everywhere who had to get up early and leave their loved ones sleeping. They’d gone to bed on an argument, again, hadn’t managed to find a solution, again: but there was no rest for those with cows to feed and bucking bulls to muck out, and so Nate had kissed his boyfriend, donned his cap and walked out into the drizzle.

He’d come home to find his boyfriend sitting at the kitchen table, bags packed, and eyes red rimmed. When his boyfriend had left at midnight, and it had been raining.

*

Nate walked to his truck and drove home without touching the radio. He hadn’t been able to turn it on. The last he had, there had been a song, a horribly beautiful reminder, and that had been the first time he’d called his ex-boyfriend while drunk.

Breaking down in big hiccupping sobs down the phone line. Crying over half bottles of beer and near-empty whiskey jars. Shouting and screaming and yelling and whining. Apologising over and over, begging and pleading and fighting to get back the man he loved.

And it didn’t matter, because he always felt worse, and he knew his words wouldn’t make the man he still loved come back.

*

It was raining. It was midnight, and Nate was drunk. His phone was on the other side of the room, where he couldn’t get to it. He was safe. What had been half a bottle of Jack was now empty, and Nate was half-heartedly considering passing out in the armchair rather than trying to stagger to his bed. He hated his bed, and only ever slept in it when he was too tired from working outside not to. The bed was somewhere he always thought of them together, cuddled up in the warm, away from the long hours of working outside, away from people, away from anything which could trouble them.

Nate sighed, and sunk further down into the armchair. He stared at his phone, wanting, willing it to come closer and be in his hand. Hearing the voice of the man he loved on the answering machine was pretty much his only joy. The rain hammered down outside.

The phone glowed, vibrated, rang.

Nate stared at it, apathetic, unable to move, assuming his brain had finally taken leave of his senses.

The phone stopped ringing, and the answer phone clicked it.

“Nate?”

Nate stared, trying to block out the sound of the rain at midnight.

“I’m sorry too.”