The Last Train To Sobriety

This is the last time I ever bother with these bloody vending machines. Here I am fiddling around in the shadows, fingers in my wallet feeling for a hexagon and a circle that represents one pound fifty. All for what, nothing. The vending machine just looks at you as if to say 'what you looking at?' Yet again I feed my money into its mouth and it gives me nothing. Drink fresh it says on its eliminated exterior. I should have gone in the pub instead.

This drink machine is something of an eye sore in this beautiful drinking hotspot. Magical glowing lanterns sparkle in the enchanting forest surrounding the pub garden. Wooden benches made out of tree trunks house the bottoms of tourists lapping up the summer evening humity, sipping on pimms and beer by the barrel load. The sound of laughter and chatter fills the air, along with the taste bud tingling scent of burgers from the smouldering barbecue.

I've lost Petre in the busy crowds. I can hear the karaoke from outside. It sounds like yet another embarrassing rendition of 'my heart will go on' from Petre's voice. Petre is my sloppy drunk other half. A self proclaimed alcoholic who cares more about the measure of vodka in her cocktails than my feelings. She's the one at the bar ordering a round of tequilas. I'm captain sensible fiddling around at the vending machines.

I met her on a night out in London a few months back. Positively wasted and wearing beer goggles, we made love that night, if that's what you call it. It started off casual and ended up as something resembling a relationship, like taking a ride on the Big Dipper. One minute she's all cupcakes and cuddles, next she's calling me a moron, scraping her keys on my car and turning up at my doorstep for drink money. She's got a drink problem and for that last few months I have chosen to remain in denial. I am such a fool. Although I cannot help but sympethise with her as I feel she is using drink as an escape route. She lost her father in a car accident a year ago and it's destroying her.

I take a short walk to the barbecue area. Over staffed with men in white shirts sweating over a griddle full of juicy meat.

'Burger please mate' 

The chef tosses me a burger like a frisbee thrower.

'2 pound' he says abruptly.

I fiddle in my wallet once again. All of a sudden I see Petre emerging out of the pub like a bear from a cave. Arm in arm with a bloke. Don't tell me she's flirting yet again. I'm not sure I've got any excuses left for her. I Walk up to them, burger in one hand clenched fist in the other.

'Hello darling' She slurs.

'First of all I want you to close your mouth and take your arm out of his. Your singing was doing my head in. You are pissed yet again and indulging in the locals. I've been pacing around this garden like a lost sheep. while you soak yourself with alcohol, male attention and the stale smell of tobacco.'

'I'm sorry babe I really am.'

'Come with me!'

I outstretched my hand to hers. For the first time in our relationship I wear the trousers, put more effort into making her see I love her and want her to change. She takes my hand, the bloke looked about as annoyed with losing his nights pull as if he'd dropped a roast potato at the dinner table. 

I took her through the pub garden past the lanterns and drinking revellers, past the small beds of flowers and wooden beams that aligned vertically along the garden edges. She's full of apologies, staggering slowly like a lethargic dog on a lead. I take her to the cliff top a mere 100 metres away from the pub.

We stand on the cliff edge over looking the vast ocean below. The lights of distant ships litter the horizon. There is a soft chill in the air. Petre stands wide eyed and confused as I try my best to save our relationship from the depths of dismay.

'You see those lights over there? You are one of those. I am on a cliff edge, there is an ocean between us. You are like a beacon in the night and I am the man overlooking from the shadows. Wanting to reach you.'

She takes a deep breath of air.

'I can feel your pain Dan I really can. I want to squeeze the ocean and build a bridge so you can reach me, drain the alcohol lakes of my heart and fill them with your love. I don't know what is is but there is a look in your eyes tonight. when I came out of the pub, you had true love in your eyes like you cared, I've never seen that before.

'I do care and I want to help'

After talking for an hour I walk back with her arm in arm. Wondering if our quantum moment on the cliff edge has changed our relationship for good. She has never opened up to me like this before and quite frankly neither have I.

I walk with her past the vending machine once more. To my surprise it says 50p to pay on the small LED screen. I reach into my wallet once again and place it through the slot, sure enough a can of soda drops. I take a much needed swig, glancing at the screen to my bewilderment it reads 'Sometimes you have to give that little bit extra to get something back'. I give a wry smile wondering whether I've just booked Petre on the last train to sobriety.