Hatchetfield and Friends

13 - Somebody's Buddy

Alcohol was the one thing Emma could always depend on. Always. Not people, not animals, not even objects, because they disappear without a trace. Especially socks. Where the hell did the other one go? It's like they all just teleported to a beach in some other universe where no one cared about mismatch socks and everyone was just happy and drugged the entire time which is why they never cared about their socks! 

So whenever Emma's shift ended, she'd drag her aching feet and pounding head over to the local bar, fully ready to give herself the worst hangover she could ever aim for. It was a fun little game to see how fucking wasted she could get. Funny thing, she could always find Ted there. That was the one time she could tolerate Ted; when she was drunk. 

She was meeting him tonight at a new bar they'd decided to try out, and Emma was in her car outside the parking lot. She steps out of her car and walks inside the building with a glowing, flashing sign, which honestly have her a worse headache. What kind of bar owner puts a headache-inducing sign outside where people with hangovers can see it? Kind of an asshole move. 

Emma sighed and pushed open the squeaky door. She walked in and immediately saw the all the regular Hatchetfield drunks sitting on rusty bar stools and a tired-looking bartender who seemed to mainly be that way because of all the shit the regular Hatchetfield drunks were doing. There was the town's crazy homeless person who looked like he was trying to rally up a bunch of people because apparently Peanuts the Pocket Squirrel is really just some self-aware, smart, evil, future-seeing squirrel. 

And there was Ted egging it on from his little rusty bar stool.

He spotted Emma and waved her over. She sat next to him, feet dangling, and saluted him.

"'Sup, my dude," she yawned.

"You look like shit," Ted commented.

"Thanks," she responded, flipping him off. 

"Hey, just doing my daily 'one insult to the crabby barista' for the day."

"Ah yes, well, fuck you!" Emma waved over the tired bartender and ordered vodka.

"Damn who pissed you off today, Barista?"

Emma looked over at him. "The fucking world. Duh."

"Oh, of course, my bad. You know...I have something that might cheer ya up." Ted passed her a small, knowing, somewhat evil grin. 

"Oh god, what is it?"

"So uh, you remember my buddy, Paul, right?"

Emma nods. "You tell me stories from work that mention him."

"Yeah, well, he's that nervous-looking guy that comes in pretty much every single day. Also he's totally into you," Ted blurts. 

"Mhm, yeah, sure. I'm sure anybody would love a coffee-smelling, ratty, poor-as-fuck woman, right?"

"Hey, I'm serious. I mean, you're pretty sexy for a...whatever you said earlier."

"Ew, Ted, you're my drinking buddy." Emma shoots him a look. 

"I'm also a creepy asshole so I have the right to say that," Ted defends. 

"I call bullshit! No dude has the right to say that unless they fully know the person and know that they're okay with it. And anyways, I don't have time for any new relationship. I have my own shit to deal with and I don't need some guy getting in the way, even if he does get good tips and is, like, the only nice person who comes in."

Ted sighs. "Well, alright, but if you ever change your mind I can most likely assure you that he's still pining over you."

"Ah, well I guess I'll keep that in mind. Enough about me, tell me a boring work story so I can get my mind off my own shitty life."

Ted laughs and rolls his eyes, then proceeds to tell Emma some story about the printers doing crappy printer things and printing things in the wrong printer. And while he did, Emma's mind wandered back to her buddy talking about Paul. What if a little love and affection was what she needed to relieve all of this stress? 

No, of course not. Relationships were bumpy and required work and to put little pieces of herself directly into it. She didn't need to lose more of herself before she knew what was good for her. She was going to stay single, and she was not going to mingle. The relationship she had with Ted was her only one and she preferred to keep it that way. She didn't need anymore stress in her life. All she needed was a drink, and a drinking buddy so she didn't completely look like she was throwing herself away. 

Emma finally left the bar at eleven, leaving Ted to continue to try and sweet talk some lady. She got into her shitty car to go to her shitty apartment and go on with her shitty life. Why the hell did she come back to Hatchetfield? Sure, for her sister, to make her proud, but she could do that somewhere else. Not that she had the money after backpacking, and certainly not after losing all of her stuff in some accident. She came back to Hatchetfield with exactly what she left with; nothing but pain. 

Emma stumbled up the stairs and ignored the old man who always sat outside his apartment door smoking some pipe and catcalling all the women who walked by. 

"Hey, Dave," she grumbled, unlocking her door. 

"Hey, Drunk Coffee Lady," the old man replied, giving her a wave. 

She closed the door and locked it, then kicked off her shoes and headed to her bedroom. 

She cracked open the window and shivered when a gust of cool air hit her bare arms and legs. Despite the cold, she liked the windows to be open, even in the dead of winter. For one, it got rid of the smell of weed and cigarette smoke, but the air that came in and pierced her lungs cleared her mind. 

Emma peeled off her work uniform and replaced it with a pair of flannel pants and an old T-shirt that used to be her sister's. She climbed into bed, making sure that her bottle of water and aspirin were sitting on the bedside table next to her. After tonight, she was probably gonna need it. You'd think with being this drunk, Emma would've gotten into some sort of accident, but sadly, no. You'd also assume she'd be more careful since her sister died in a car accident, but Emma figured that was one hell of a way to go out if and when she died. 

She could die the same way as her sister. It was dark, she knew that, but she found it to be a peaceful thought. They'd have a more equal death. She'd get to experience the same pain that her sister did when she died. She was okay with that. 

As Emma drifted to sleep, she knew her sister would appear in her dreams again. She always did. There seemed to be two sides of her; one that would tell Emma to come join her, or the one that told her to keep fighting. Maybe it was just her brain trying to create an argument for her. Whether or not she should stay alive, stay or go. 

Whatever her sister told her to do tonight, Emma figured she'd probably carry it out in the morning. 

A/N: To be totally honest here, I have no idea what this was. I wanted to write and to create the feeling of being like...unfulfilled or unfinished or something, like there was a hole unable to be filled. Whether that was for you readers, the characters, or both I have no idea. But it's something, I suppose.