Soaked in the Afternoon

Harry is an old fashioned whiskey drinker, Bea likes her vodka. They sit on the floor of their rundown apartment a little after noon in the middle of the week drinking their respective beverages.

‘Harry, do you think I am vain?' Bea asks her man while scrunching up her little face.

‘Why do you ask such a question?' he asks while sipping his whiskey.

‘Well girls as beautiful as me usually are,' she answers back.

The sound of the outside world slips in through the cracks in the window as Bea and Harry continue into the afternoon with their intoxication. Car horns and shoppers on the street outside fail to wake them from the easy drunkenness they are slipping gently into.

‘Harry, don't you like my small body?' she asks him. He breaks out in a big smile which takes over his unshaven face. ‘I am only five feet nothing' she mournfully says.

‘Yes you are a small person aren't you!' he states with that wide smile still fixed on his face, ‘is that the reason why the tires on your bike are always flat? so as you can reach the pedals!?' he laughs. ‘Ah don't be crazy, I don't care if you are five feet nothing or even three feet nothing.'

His style of humor is taken by Bea with a loveable sigh. She is not content with the sound and smell of the afternoon being soaked in whiskey and vodka in the almost unfurnished apartment, while Mile Davis plays on the radio. She still has one more question for her man.

‘Then why won't you marry me?' Bea asks Harry as she gained her body closer to his. They sit on the floor, backs against the wall.

‘I told you over and over again, I am not religious, I don't believe in such a thing like the union of man and woman under the law of religion.' Harry could have said those words in a baleful tone but he said them in a sweet drunken way, ‘Whiskey is my religion,' he says with a smile. He lifts the almost empty bottle of whiskey aloft, ‘when I drink it, that's me praying.'

Harry didn't laugh but he could have if he wanted to. Bea didn't laugh either and she decided she would save the marriage question again for another day, most probably tomorrow when a fresh bottle of whiskey for him and a fresh bottle of vodka for her would start another day.

Lily Murphy is twenty three years old and hails from the city of Cork in Ireland. She has just finished a four year stint in university where she obtained a degree in history and politics. These days she is busy trying to carve out a life as a writer while re-living her student party days during the weekends!