Donald

“Donald, Donald…come on Donald, get up!” The woman tugged urgently at the crumbled man in the cheap suit. He looked as if he’d melted into the plush bar chair he had been sitting in. She dropped his arms and looked around nervously. The sound of tinkling glasses and lewd conversations seemed a roar in her ears now. She squatted and peered into Donald Peters face. His eyes were only half-closed, a thick river of saliva ran from one side of his mouth to his chin. She cursed audibly. No ride home now…she might as well leave the crazy drunk here! For a few minutes she entertained this idea then thought better of it. What if this asshole died here, choked on his vomit or fell down and broke his neck? Someone would remember her; she’d been seen with him. This would mean an unwelcome notoriety that she simply could not afford.

There she’d sat, pouring the wine bottle empty. She had giggled and fawned interest in his dull conversation...careful not to let her eyes wander too far or too often from his ruddy face and thick lips. God, how pathetic he was, whining about his wife...how she neglected and abused him. What to do now? She looked around quickly; at least they’d come in together...that was in her favor. She could use that.

“Excuse me, my fiancé has had too much to drink...it caught up with him. Could you help me?” She smiled, hoping she looked weak and embarrassed. The table of middle-aged men, most likely divorcees seeking solace in each other’s misery, seemed to rise at once, as they rushed to her aid eagerly. Three men eased Donald to his feet and helped propel him out the door into the lot.
“Which car is yours Ma’am?” A moment of panic seized her and she struggled to remember what type of car he’d picked her up in, something small and red. She stammered for a few seconds before she remembered the alarm. He’d set it before walking into the bar. “The keys are in his jacket pocket....” she fished them out and pressed the alarm button. A maroon sedan to their immediate left barked and flashed its headlights. “Oh, here we are...” The men set Donald into the passenger side and affixed the belt across his chest. She thanked them profusely....the rescued damsel, all grateful smiles, and a small wave as she drove away. At the very first intersection, she lit up a long, dark cigarette and heaved at it deeply. “Shit!” she shouted aloud. Donald moaned, he mumbled incoherently then passed out cold again.

Okay, okay...so this had not gone well. She thought it seemed pretty sound plan in the beginning. He was a local guy, newly divorced, fairly wealthy, lonely...he’d been interested in her for a while; he had known she was married but unhappily. Then two nights ago, he’d gotten enough gumption to ask her to meet him for drinks. She’d said yes, but insisted that they leave from the office – in one car.

She drove around, smoking and listening to the music whenever she could find a station that came in clearly. It seemed like an hour before Donald was finally sitting upright and talking, sort of. His speech was slurred but his eyes were clearing. She’d stopped the car on a deserted road in the middle of a new development, the skeleton frames of oversized and overpriced raised ranches loomed outside the windows of the sports car. “Donald, I’d like to go home only I can’t really do that until you sober the fuck up.” She said it calmly, almost sweetly. He gazed at her for a long moment. Then he leaned forward, lurched really, and she realized rather incredulously that he intended to kiss her. She rocked away into the bucket seat and put her hands up. “Forget it pal. Sober up another way!”

“If you didn’t like me Claudia, why did you agree to go out with me?” He whined her name, making it sound like a sexual disease. She shuddered. “Donald, because I think we can help each other. You want to get laid sometime again in your life, and I want out of my silly little job. I want to move on to bigger and better things and you can help me!” He frowned at her and said, “Not interested.” Suddenly angry she flared at him, “You think I just spent four ½ hours of my life listening to your pathetic sob stories and stroking your inadequate ego for nothing? You are going to hear me out, you piece of shit, or I will tell every woman in that office that you are a vile and degenerate human being. You’ll never be able to stand a chance with any of the skirts you chase around the cubicles!” Donald reeled back as if she’d struck him.