by Julia Proud
* * *
It was February the 9th or 10th, Ed wasn't sure, and he didn't mind not knowing. It had been a couple of weeks since the funeral, and with the help of some considerable quantities of alcohol, the event had slipped his mind completely.
When he first heard it, he was sure it had been a knock on the door of his neighbor, Mrs. Dwight. A pretty woman that he hadn't ever dared speak to, not even to say hello. Actually, he hadn't spoken to anyone in days.
The door opened and Valenti watched confounded as Mr. Barnes entered his apartment, and removed his hat brushing some quickly melting snow off of it.
"Ed!" the old man's voice was deep and broken, as if he had a cold, which was probably the case.
"How's it going?" Valenti tried to speak and was pretty sure that the words had come across clearly and not the mumbled slur that he had actually let out.
Nothing was where Ed expected it to be, so he knocked over a lamp and bumped into a chair as he left the couch, to walk up to Mr. Barnes, and properly greet the old man with a hand shake.
"Mr. Barnes. To wha' do I owe the honor?" were Ed's carelessly uttered words, omitting sounds and combining syllables as if the vowels and consonants leaving his lips were also drunk and dancing in a frenzy.
The old man said something but Valenti didn't really pay attention because Mr. Barnes was trying to grab the dented silver flask out of his hand. The drunk man pulled it away and stepped back from the old man, confused and protective of his dearest possession.
"You've had enough, Ed! Look at yourself!" Mr. Barnes was saying, but the words didn't entirely reach Ed, and were left hanging in the stench of booze that filled the small apartment.
Just who did this fellow think he was?!
"Get the fuck out! If ya don' like it, get the fuck out!"
Ed was yelling, but he wasn't exactly sure of what he was saying. He was simply yelling and it felt good. It felt right. He could yell if he damn pleased!
"I ain't kiddin'! Who the hell do you think y'are? I do what I want! I have no regrets!"
Valenti went on and on without thinking and he even continued to berate the old man long after he had been left alone in his dirty, ill-kept, one bedroom apartment.
