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9
Full Ashtrays And Empty Beer Bottles
Idowned the shot glass and tipped it wrong side up onto the bench.
“Howzat!” Cathy yelled, matching me shot for shot.
Mark kissed her on the cheek and said, “Well done, honey. You can drink anyone under the table.”
“You say the sweetest things to me, fireman,” she told him and they started pashing.
I shook my head, stood up and swayed, and then stumbled out onto the deck finding solace in the stars. I stared out over the back garden and into someone’s else’s yard.
Sean was working.
I was not.
I’d just finished a dayshift in Comms.
And I was drunk.
Tayla came out and handed me a beer.
“Hair of the dog,” she said.
“I don’t think that’s what this is,” I told her.
She shrugged.
We stared at the neighbour’s cat.
“Were you on North Comm?” she asked.
“Yep.”
“Rough day.”
“Yeah.”
“He’ll be alright.”
Would he? I wanted to ask.
* * *
“Priority call from A 5-6.”
“Shit,” Gregg muttered.
I reached forward and pressed the button to activate my mic and cut off any other ambulances from talking.
“A 5-6. Priority call. Go ahead.”
“R4-7-7.”
* * *
“Kylee. One more round!”
