Scotch Story
Matthew Ryan Fischer
“The proper drinking of Scotch whisky is more than indulgence: it
is a toast to civilization, a tribute to the continuity of culture, a manifesto
of man’s determination to use the resources of nature to refresh mind and body
and enjoy to the full the senses with which he has been endowed.” – Scottish
literary historian and critic David Daiches (1969).
Boyd clenched his teeth and took a deep breath, sucking air
between his teeth. His throat was warm. He was sitting, but he could definitely
feel that he was a little off balance. He raised his glass and took a big gulp
and finished his drink.
He gave himself one bottle. One. That was it. He could drink as
much or as little in a day as he wanted. But when it was gone it would be over.
He didn’t have to finish the bottle, but he was going to finish the bottle.
It was a slow sipping Scotch Whiskey, but that didn’t mean he
intended to sip all of it. He had put back a shot or two already. He did intend
on making it last. It was his one bottle. He was going to make it count.
The bottle had cost him a month’s worth of money. He imagined some
people could drink like that all the time, but he was not one of those people.
But tonight he was.
He didn’t want to think. He did too much of that. Instead he
poured himself another glass.
He hadn’t figured it all out yet. He hadn’t lost his job. He
wasn’t staring down a messy divorce. And his kids didn’t hate him. He was alone
tonight, but he wasn’t lonely. He hadn’t figured out why just yet, but
finishing that bottle was of the upmost importance. He felt very sure of that,
even if he didn’t have the reason. He realized it would have sounded better if
he had had a reason. But he didn’t have to worry about that. No one was asking
him why he was doing what he was doing.
Boyd took another sip.
He had taken the day off work on Friday. He spent most of the day
slightly intoxicated. Whenever his mind began to clear, he poured another
drink. He took the weekend. And then he took another day.
The bottle had been watered-down.
It wasn’t as strong, but the bottle was full again.
He gave himself one bottle. He could drink until the bottle was
gone.
The bottle wasn’t gone. Not yet, anyway. Not yet.
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