Day 59 - Two Year Countdown

 Two Year Countdown 

Matthew Ryan Fischer

 

The taste of tobacco lingered in the back of Dave’s mouth, but he wasn’t sure if he was getting any of the effect or not. A little nagging feeling in the back of his mind wanted to light another, so he figured something was kicking in somewhere. Dave couldn’t remember the last time he had smoked. Years. Or more. Or less. There was probably some drunken night in there somewhere that he had one and didn’t remember. But those drunken nights were a long time ago as well.

When asked he had told his doctor he didn’t do either. He has had started a new regime of medications for blood pressure and cholesterol and was pretty sure one of the warnings said not to mix with anything else. People probably did though. All the time. He couldn’t be the first. And it was only one.

Dave realized he had been rubbing his fingertips. An old habit. His tongue felt dirty. Nothing was tingling. When he was young, he used to get a tingle. Maybe it would kick in if he smoked another.

Wendy had been calling again. He didn’t want to answer that call. He didn’t have an answer to that call. His bed had been empty just long enough that he was considering answering that call. But he knew all the trouble that would entail.

If he had that drink, it might make it a whole lot easier.

Or worse.

It had been a long couple of years and a little mindless fun might make things seem better. But Wendy was never mindless.

Years ago, Dave would have never considered anything casual. He was a different man that he was years ago.

Years ago, he had promised undying love to a girl named Carrie. Several times. Harsh reality to marry and divorce the same woman. Twice. He wondered if she would be at the reunion. That wouldn’t be for a few years. Covid had ruined the last one. But maybe he’d try and make it to the next one.

Dave hadn’t talked to anyone in at least a year. Probably closer to two now. He heard that Mitch’s mother had cancer. He should have called. Maybe Mitch was talking to his dad again. Maybe time plus tragedy was all it took. Mike and Max and all those other fools. They were all out there somewhere. Probably having good lives.

He could probably lose a few pounds. Maybe. Fix that diet. Fix that cholesterol. He’d show up and show them. That would count for something, right?

A lifetime later and probably no one would go the reunion after all and he’d be standing there like an idiot.

He fought the urge. One smoke. One drink. Just one, the small voice told him. Just one. Exercise tomorrow. Do all those other important things tomorrow.

He could waste the day tomorrow. And the one after. There were a lot of days left on the calendar. Why rush change? Maybe he would call Wendy back after all.