2 ~ When Grief Tastes Like Gin

DORIAN

“How was the interview?” Ronan asked, drying a glass behind the bar. “You look like hell, but I’m hoping for good news.”

I sat in front of the bar, rolling my eyes while dropping both my curriculum vitae and my phone onto the tiny slab.

“How do you think it went?” I muttered, dropping into the stool like dead weight. “Martini. Double.”

“Gin or vodka?” Ronan calmly asked, careful not to probe into the interview or my joblessness—and I couldn’t have been more grateful.

“Gin.”

He nodded and began mixing the shots while I pressed my nails into my skin, hoping the sting could match what I felt inside.

All the savings I had left was what I used to get my mother's drugs earlier this morning. Again, I had gone in search of a job but… nothing as usual. Walking in the heat, being dismissed, or how the receptionist looked at my resume like it was trash.

Today makes it exactly five months since I had been marking tallies on a calendar or opening a folder filled with rejection emails.

Five months of unemployment! Five months of scouting for jobs and it just seems like some kind of god had decided to place a curse on me.

“I know you will find a job soon enough. I just feel it in my bones, but whatever you do, don't give up hope on trying.” Ronan advised, passing me the shot and I scoffed.

My phone beeped and I reached into my pocket before retrieving it to stare at the text I got.

‘Your mother just kicked the bucket. My condolences, Mr. Dorian.’

My breath caught. Everything slowed—the noise in the bar, the flicker of lights, Ronan’s voice calling my name. My heart pounded once, hard, and then went quiet. Like even it didn’t want to go on.

“Dorian?” Ronan called but I could only hear him through a daze as tears slid down the corner of my eyes.

Cancer!

She was always in pain. I could remember how she kept on asking if the surgery would happen. But I couldn't even look her directly in the eye.

If I had just gotten one goddamn job… one stable income. She could’ve had the surgery. The bills wouldn’t have piled so high. She would still be breathing. Still calling me her boy.

I could only stare at my hands and see her blood on it—They were stained by it.

I was already at the brink of losing my mind knowing that if I didn't pay rent by next week, I would be homeless and then my mum?

“Dorian, what's wrong with you man?” Ronan asked, jerking my hands a bit and that pulled me out of my ocean of thoughts saving me from drowning.

I shifted the phone over to him and his countenance fell as he stared at the contents on the screen.

“Dorian, I'm so sorry.”

I shrugged, taking slight deep breaths to level my heart rate. “Make it a double Martini, Ronan.” I requested and Ronan shook his head in negativity.

“I know this hurts, Dorian. But I’m not about to let you drink yourself into the grave.” Ronan stated in a firm voice and I just swallowed hard.

“Fine then. I'll just go and wallow in misery back at home.” I seethed, standing up immediately but he grabbed my hands, pulling me back down.

“Dorian, you're my best friend and I probably know you better than you would ever know yourself. This isn't a good time for you to be alone, you'll spend the night at my place today.” Ronan stated, matter of factly leaving no room for any kind of argument. “We will go pick her body up from the hospital tomorrow.”

A disturbing thought always crept in whenever I was around Ronan.

He was my best friend. It had been for years. But would he still be… if he knew? I wasn’t sure. And tonight, the thought of being that vulnerable, that exposed—it scared the hell out of me.

I wasn't so sure about that and leaving I and Ronan in one enclosed room, at night, I'm quite unsure how that would go.

If he touches me… will I break?

What if I want him too?

That's not possible. Ronan and I are close buddies.

There's nothing between us but I still feel something was off. Maybe because Ronan is not gay? At the same time, I haven't seen him with any lady lately.

*****

An hour later, Ronan was done with his night shift. He clocked out, and we walked home in silence.

The walk back was cold and quiet. Ronan didn’t say much, and I didn’t have the strength to fill the silence. I just replayed her laugh in my head… the way it used to echo through our tiny living room.

Ronan turned to stare at me for a few seconds before patting my shoulders a bit.

When we got to his apartment, I just settled in on the couch lost in my own thoughts as Ronan presented dinner but I declined.

“You're not really going to starve yourself, are you?” Ronan queried and I grabbed him by the shirt.

“That's exactly what I'm going to do, Ronan.” I blurted out and he threw his hands up in surrender while I went ahead to scroll through old pictures of my mom.

Just as I scrolled through her pictures, I saw a pop up of an incoming mail but it vanished almost immediately so I had to enter my mail to confirm what it was about.

And right there…

‘JOB INTERVIEW FROM VALE ENTERPRISE.’

My phone fell from my hand almost immediately with a slight thud onto the table as I took deep breaths trying to stabilize my heart rate as I kept staring at it in disbelief.

“There must be a mistake. They must’ve clicked the wrong file and mail. My resume? It’s nothing impressive. Two years in retail. A failed internship. A business degree gathering dust in a folder titled ‘At Least You Tried.’ No way!”

I blurted out, dropping my phone onto the table with a slight thud as I stared at my friend's wide eyed.

“Umm, Dorian? What are you talking about?” Ronan asked and I gulped, unsure of what to say while staring at the mail long and hard like I was trying to see past some glamour and see the real message.

‘There's no way they're actually accepting me right?’

“I think Vale Enterprise wants a job interview with me.” I said quickly and he dropped the food he was holding whilst picking my phone up.

“Like The Vale Enterprise that we all know of? Are you sure?” He was equally stunned as I rubbed my wrists, wondering if this was all just a dream.

Speaking of dreams…

And now that I was halfway to my dream, the person I wanted to make proud was gone.