"So you've decided to join me this week then?" Mr Mitchell's voice slurred. His descent into the bottle seemed rapid recently.
Sighing, I picked up a discarded bottle off the floor, gingerly placing it on top of the unit. "I wanted to make sure you were holding up okay." His gritty chortle answered my unspoken question. "Yeah, it's a stupid thing to ask."
"I think I'm doing just fine, don't you?" He says, tipping the bottom of the glass towards me as he downs the remaining trickle within.
Looking closer I could see how his 5 O'clock shadow had turned into a 10 o'clock one instead. His shoulders seemed as though they ached with what should have been tension. The alcohol forced them into an easiness unreciprocated in his mind.
Nodding at the thought I settled into the chair across from him. "I think you're wallowing." I tilted my head with acknowledgement. His laughter cut the tension between us for a few seconds.
"You are one to talk aren't you, Kid?" I teeter my head at the question. "Why do you keep coming back?"
Because they wouldn't. I bit my tongue. I knew he wouldn't appreciate the first words that came to mind. So, instead, I opted to swirl my glass in faux thought. I knew he wanted the truth. The one thing I wasn't sure he would want. "I want to make things right." I settled upon. The words got a snort of derision.
"Nothing can set this right." I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol that stopped him from reacting stronger or just the sheer hopelessness within him, but he did nothing more than turn his head to me.
Shuffling towards him, I snatched the bottle off the table and poured him another glass of whiskey. "I know," I muttered, looking him in the eye. Swallowing harshly, I took a mouthful of the liquor to ease my throat. "Doesn't mean I will stop. I will make things fair."
"Fair?" The first samplings of emotions wormed its way into his eyes. They widened as his lips curled in misery. "My daughters are gone. They are gone!" He lurched marginally at me sending my gaze downwards until I could only see him through my lashes. "And you sit there doing nothing as if it'll bring them back." He spat. "You are just as guilty as the rest of them."
I could feel de ja vu settle within me as I uttered the same phrase. "I know." He slumped into his chair but didn't forbid me from continuing. "I couldn't save them then, but I can save you."
"Save me from what?" He jostled his drink yet again. "This is saving me plenty."
"From yourself. I'm going to save you from yourself." My conviction wormed its way into my voice and forced the words to flow before I could stop them. "How would they feel if they could see you now? Wallowing in your misery instead of helping them. How far you have fallen. Barely the man who searched that mountain ten times over. Now you're just giving up? You're going to kill yourself before the year is up and you know it."
He chuckled. "That's the plan." The teasing lilt in his voice sent unease down my spine.