The Night Before Last

Jacob lit another cigarette and reached for one of the beer cans on the floor. Empty. Five more lay scrunched up nearby. He stretched further to reach for the Jack Daniels bottle next to the bedside table. There was barely an inch of booze left in it. He looked at it as if examining a work of art, swirling the drink within the bottle. The amber liquid glowed as it caught a ray of sun coming through a gap in his drawn curtains.

He unscrewed the top and drank the contents in one go, holding it in his mouth a little longer before swallowing. He caught a glimpse of his new self in the mirror facing the bed. The same mirror that had born witness to his humiliation. Two day stubble graced his cheeks, with their high cheek bones. His eyes were blood shot from two nights of restless sleep and drinking.

The same scenes kept playing in his mind. The sequence varied every time so that he was never sure which way it had happened. This time, he saw a big hand over his mouth and the shadow of a bulky figure above him. Then the image cuts to The Boot Bar, his favorite watering hole. He’s talking to the bartender, the DJ is shaking his head to some new tunes he’s playing on the other side of the room, now he’s laughing at a joke his friend Tom has just made. Both of them are leaning against the bar. His mind goes blank for a moment before he recalls a sharp pain and remembers how he tried to scream out.

Tom and he met on an architectural project they were both working on last year. Tom is married to Beth, whom he has met. They both tease him about being a carefree lad about town. She has flirted with him in front of Tom which was awkward. He thought Tom had been good natured about it and laughed it off. Tom had said, “Hey, I’d do you if I was into that sort of thing.” That had caused a brief silence before they continued with other talk and more drinks. He had forgotten all of that.

Lying on his bed now, he couldn’t be sure. But joining the dots seemed to suggest that he had met Tom for drinks two nights ago, Friday night to be exact. At some point he must have returned to his flat with him or somebody else. But that did not make sense. Why would he come back to his place with Tom? He wasn’t in the habit of bringing people back, much less strangers so that ruled anyone else out.

But then something kept him from thinking on. He didn’t remember an argument or fight at the bar. Maybe someone broke into his flat. There was the part where he was grappling with someone; he can’t see their face when he tries to bring it into focus. There is pain but as he struggles to think clearly, he feels a panic come on.

Later that night, he had come to and had thought of calling the police. But what would he tell them? He had reached the phone to call his best mate Richard. Ditto. How could he begin to explain his predicament? So time had flown by and he had just lain there, drinking and trying to sleep and desperately hoping he would wake up from what felt like a very real nightmare.