I tip the glass up and the sharp taste of the Bushmill’s in it fills my mouth. It slides down my throat as I swallow like a fiery being that fills my body with heat. The surface ripples, catching a stray bit of light from the bar’s overhead illumination. It looks like an eye winking rhythmically at me, mocking me, daring me.
“I could do it tonight.”
No one could have heard me whisper the words to myself, not with the music blasting over the sound system. But I hear them, and I wonder why I don’t do it.
I have a gun, a snub-nosed .38 that even an expert couldn’t hit a target with from more than ten feet away. I told the man at the gun store I was buying it because several of my neighbors had been robbed, but that was a lie.
I have learned how to tie innumerable knots. I tell people I learned to tie them because I’m interested in boats. I am interested in boats, but that had nothing to do with my desire to understand knots.
I look down at the amber liquid in my glass. I could just keep drinking, drink until I can’t stand straight, until my senses begin to reel. The drive home is long, the road busy, and there would be many opportunities.
On the drive here, I saw men standing in the mouths of allies, sometimes alone, sometimes with other people. The way they all look furtively about, their very wariness, is a sign that they are buying and selling drugs. I could stop and buy something from one of them before going home to do it in private.
“So why don’t I do it? Why don’t I kill myself?” I ask the reflection in the whiskey. Life has been one long string of disappointments. A job I hate, one failed romance after another, family dying one by one, leaving me alone.
Why am I still alive?
I take another sip, look into the glass, and find the answer. I don’t kill myself because I still have hope. Some part of me believes my soul mate is out there, waiting for me to find her. A portion of my heart still thinks I’ll find a job that makes me fulfilled.
I look at my reflection, and the tired old man who looks back at me smiles. I push the glass away, stand, and head for the door. I look up as I exit and see the sky, darker than any of my musing. I see the scattered stars, shining like tiny beacons. Even as dim as they are here in town, they’re ever-present. Like my hope, they too refuse to fade away. I know why I won’t take my life tonight, or any of the countless nights to come.
“You don’t kill yourself because you’re too stupid to just lay down and give up, that’s why.”
It’s not much of a reason, but it’s enough.