Late Night Booty Call
Nightmares plague me, born out of the eavesdropped conversation. During my lucid moments, I envy Atlanta, who is sleeping soundly.
And then I realise that Emilia, too, has not been having a good night.
She gives me a wan smile and vacates the larger bed that she shares with Atlanta.
I follow her to the outer room. But, surprisingly, she does not seat herself in one of the chairs. She dons a jacket over her sleepwear, instead, and motions me to do the same.
“Let’s go to the bar,” she says after closing and locking the front door from outside. “I can get you a glass of milk or something, there.”
And she does order me a glass of iced chocolate milk, while she herself nearly gulps down her own drink… which is alcoholic and the one that I crave, to wash away my own nightmares.
“Did Ata tell you she’s actually my best friend’s daughter?” she asks into the silence, with her eyes on her third drink. “All the talks about Nalla made me miss her all the more. N’don’t deny, kid, you eavesdropped.”
`My. A pity party. Give me your drink, woman, and I shall tell you mine.`