three fifty seven

Skunk (tipping the empty Moosehead bottle this way and that, watching the sunlight play inside the green glass): So ehm, is this your drink, Moosehead?

ache¹: Mmhm, I guess.

She kicked at the sand beneath her heels.

ache¹: I used to drink Coors, you know, like in “E.T.”?

Skunk (puzzled): There’s no drinking in “E.T.” is there? When does

ache¹: Yeah yeah there is. Don’t you remember? When Elliott goes off to school and E.T.’s alone in the house with Harvey

Skunk: Harvey? Who’s Harvey? Is this the same film

ache¹: Harvey’s the dog, and E.T. gets some cans of Coors out of the fridge and gets himself completely

Skunk (penny dropping): Awww yeah, yes, I remember, and that starts all the stuff at the school with the boy, because he’s getting drunk as well.

ache¹: Well, that’s Coors.

Skunk (laughing): Really? They should have done an advert with that

reaching toward her for the E.T. and making him talk

Skunk: “Beee goood, driiink Coooors.” So, how come you stopped drin-, how come you’re not

ache¹: I got pregnant.

Brother Skunk blinked a little too hard and for less than a second saw every colour in his vision as its exact opposite, white negative to black, then suddenly yawned.

ache¹ laughed out loud, and when his jaws again relaxed Skunk couldn’t help but laugh right along with her, uncertain as he was to the seriousness of her statement, and laughing, understood that he was becoming drunk himself. Trying to stop only made it worse for them both. When ache¹ then stood and shouted

ache¹: I HAD AN ABORTION

Skunk had to double himself over against the pain in his abdomen, and his eyes streamed with happy tears as he gasped to get breath back into his lungs. They lay there on the sandy soil, staring at each other through eyes wet with this inexorable hysteria.

Eventually

Skunk: Oh Jesus... Jesus this is awful. I feel terrible about this.

He wiped at his nose with the bandanna he used for a handkerchief.

Skunk: Is that true really? Were you serious about that?

ache¹: Yeah, I’m sorry.

Skunk: Don’t apologise for it, that’s not what I, I didn’t mean that you

ache¹ (propped up on her elbows watching her legs stretched out in front, heels together, her shoes bang apart and back in an opening and closing v): No, no, I am sorry. This guy got me drunk, I got pregnant, I had an abortion. Obviously, you know, I wish it hadn’t happened, but...

The passing of the stream becomes more audible in the absence of either voice, until

Skunk: When was this, when

ache¹: A couple of months ago. Not even that.

Skunk: In Canada?

ache¹ (nodding): Mmhm.

Skunk: And is that how come you’re here now, rather than in Canada?

ache¹: In a, yeah I guess you could

Skunk: And is that how come I found you? I mean, is this, was that how come I found you?

ache¹: Uh-huh.

still staring as her shoes came together with a small thud, then fell apart, over and over. She sensed Skunk move and looked across to see him unscrewing the cap on a hipflask, raise it to his mouth, tip and swallow.

ache¹: Can I have some please?

Skunk passed her the flask and she tried to copy the way he had swiftly jerked his arm, but a little whiskey ran from the corner of her mouth and she pushed it back to her lips with a quick finger. She felt something about the quality of moisture in her eyes change, the residue of laughter subject to undertow. She looked at the hipflask, running her wet finger across the Jack Daniel’s label etched into the pewter.

ache¹ (screwing the cap back on, her voice quiet): And I guess this is your drink then, Jack Daniel’s?

She rubbed at her forearms with the heat falling down inside.

Skunk: Yeah... yeah. You know, I only got that on the day... That arrived in the post the same day I found you.

ache¹ turned the hipflask over and read down the cities and dates on the back, chronicling the various awards garnered by Jack Daniel’s, thumbing across them like Braille.

ache¹: It’s nice. It’s really nice.

Skunk (rubbing at his forehead, irritated by the heat): Yeah, I like it. The only thing is it’s not really mine yet. You know that way when you get something new and it’s not, because it’s new it’s just... it’s not yours is what I’m trying to say. It’s so new that it’s just like anyone else’s that’s just got one. In a couple of weeks, you know, a bit of wear and tear and ehm, then it’ll be mine, because it’ll have little marks on it, or scratches or even a dent, and that'll make it, I’ll be able to

With a simple movement of her wrist ache¹ pitched the hipflask up into the air; even before it hit the water they were both already moving in pursuit.