Holding On

14. Drunk

Chris completely stopped crying after two more glasses. He was drunk to the highest point now. "I'm gonna dress that jerk in a clown costume and force him to dance with the cheerleaders." He shouted in anger. Heather burst out laughing. "I'm gonna dump Kyla's head in a toilet bowl with shit in it." He shouted even louder and Tim shushed him. Chris put his finger on his lips. "Shh." He smiled goofily, almost falling from his chair.

"What about the other one?" Heather asked, thinking dramatically.

Chris spread his arms in welcome. "Why don't you give us an idea, your highness?"

Heather's face lit up. "We'll burn all her animated movie CDs." She giggled and Chris cackled happily. He even clapped for her. "Thank you, thank you." She bowed proudly. When she bent down, she felt an uneasy feeling in her stomach. "Uh-oh." She muttered.

Chris turned to see Heather stumbling towards the bathroom as fast as she could. When the door closed behind her, he heard gagging noises. "Oops." He said and burst out laughing. He pushed himself away from the counter and walked towards the bathroom door. He leaned against the door frame and yelled, "You okay, Heathy?" More vomiting answered him.

Finally he heard a flush and the door opened. Heather had to hold the frame with both hands to keep herself from falling. "My head!" She complained.

"Wanna drink down the vomit?" He offered.

A shudder ran through her body at the thought of more alcohol. "No thanks."

"Okay then. Let's go catch you a taxi." He swung her arm around his shoulder and took her towards the door. She was groaning and leaning all her weight onto Chris so he half dragged her outside. He booked a taxi and loaded Heather into its back seat. "Do you need me to come?" He asked, considering the idea of letting a drunk Heather go alone in a taxi at that hour.

She shook her head and seemed to sober up a little. "No thanks. I'll manage. Good night!" She smiled and the taxi drove away. He hoped he did not do anything stupid by staying behind.

He staggered back inside and paid the bill without even looking how much they drank. He shoved five hundred bucks in Tim's hand. "My friend's car is in your parking space. Is it okay if she comes tomorrow?"

"No worries." He assured and counted the money. "Good night, Chris!"

He waved and walked out of the bar. It was around one as he wandered off to the main road and got into a taxi. He was not sure why, but he told the driver to take him to St. George's hospital.

The taxi stopped in front of the back gate of the hospital and Chris gave money yet again without paying attention to the amount. The car drove off leaving him under a street lamp. The white building loomed above him, surrounded by a tall wall. He leaned against the pole and lifted his head up to look at the top. The street was empty except for an occasional car or two.

He chewed his lip and thought of a specific nurse. If he had been sober, he would have stopped thinking about him, but now he had the excuse of being drunk. He looked down and drew lines on the pavement with his toes unconsciously. He still hated the overly warm aura Ryan radiated, but he couldn't deny his hotness. Only a few could look handsome in nurse uniforms and Ryan pulled it off. He was so warm towards Chris. Chris was not conscious enough to bring an argument for that. He wondered if he was into boys. What if he was? An excited sound escaped his throat. But how would he know? Maybe he already had a girlfriend.

He slapped his head. "Shut up!" He snapped.

"Christian?" A voice asked from under the shadow of the wall.

Chris's head snapped back up. Ryan stepped out from the gate. He was wearing one of his worn out jeans and blue Converse. He looked as if he saw a ghost. Chris was not ready to face him in the middle of the night. He turned and tried to run, but his body refused to cooperate. He tripped and fell. He fell on his shoulder on the wet pavement.