“Hang my head, drown my fear; ’til you all just disappear…”
“I won a bet with myself.”
She looks up at me, more than just physically, as she says it with a smile.
I pause for the briefest moment – from drinking enough Jim Beam Devil’s Cut to kill a buffalo and smoking enough Marlboro No. 27′s to give me cancer by Halloween – to raise an eyebrow.
My wordless method of asking her what she means.
“I bet myself that you would be made the leader of the group.
Especially when they split us all up by gender.”
See, she bought us tickets to one of those “murder mystery dinners”.
And, when the time came to solve the crime, they separated us.
Even though this 20–something red–head had made me a birthday cake and given me more blow–jobs than a sane man could handle:
I was still surprised by her faith in me.
Truth be told:
I’ve been hiding a long time.
Having lost a fiancé, best friend, career, mother and beloved grandmother and squandered a small fortune on whiskey and cigarettes in an extended suicide attempt over the past few years:
I just wanted to be left alone.
I went on this trip to simply lose myself.
Ride the wave.
Be a nameless member of a group.
Simply to ease myself into being social again.
Not the best looking guy present.
Easily the worst dressed, as all the men present are in shirts and ties and [due to miscommunication] I’m not.
Yet, I’m made the spokesman/chairman/leader of the group.
As they say:
Man plans; God laughs.
Regardless, I take the role.
For whatever reason:
It always seems to fall to me.
Whether I want it or not.
I’ve worn crowns enough to know:
I never rest easy wearing them.
Now that I think on it:
Maybe that’s why I frequently end up with them.