DAY 4: Duncan's Story

Courtesy: guardian.co.tt

Today’s Prompt:

A drunk man sits next to you in a bar, thinks you’re his buddy and starts confessing “the truth.” Write about what the truth is.

Courtesy: CreativeWritingPrompts.Com

Word Count: 2,085

             “Hey! Dick, how’s it going?” The speaker’s words were an all-out drawl and the man had to strain his ears to hear him. The band was playing too loud.

The man sitting by the counter was not Dick–whoever Dick was–he was from out of town and was just passing through, but he guessed the drunk might be angling for a little talk. And hey, everybody answered to Tom, Dick and Harry sometime.

             “I’m good.” Sam, that was the man’s name, turned and saw the drunk was smiling like a clown. “You’re as happy as a clam in high tide. What have you been up to?”

The drunk gave him a wink and shrugged. “Usual stuff.” He took a quick glance about, saw nobody was within earshot, shrugged again then laughed. It was a cackle and way loud. Sam assumed he was supposed to find this amusing. He humored the drunk and laughed, too.

Two men sitting by the counter laughing their heart out. The first man was not halfway through his first glass of soda; the second was drunker than a hoot.

The drunk stopped laughing all at once. “I just did another car at the park,” he said in a hushed tone.

Sam was left in the lurch. He raised an eyebrow and prodded the drunk. “Did what exactly? You didn’t steal someone’s vehicle, did you?”

The drunk burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, in my condition? They’ll have to scrape me off the sidewalk with a shovel. Of course not, you fool.” He slapped Sam on the shoulder. The drunk was a solid stew of alcohol, urine and sweat. Sam thought, God help him if this man has fleas.

             “I peed all over some guy’s car,” said the drunk. “The doors were locked but the fool left the window on the passenger’s side down. It wasn’t all the way down just enough to let in air. I peed inside the car, too. Somebody’s gonna take a wash in Duncan’s hot tub on their ride home. If they ain’t three sheets to the wind by closing time, that is.” The drunk unleashed a bray of laughter. Sam deferred.

            “You didn’t happen to check what brand of car it was, did you?” Sam reckoned that Dick, whom the drunk believed he was, would have had a whiff of his friend’s activities. He hid his curiosity behind giggles, which a sober person would have detected as feigned. “Just curious is all.” He added.

            “Sure, Dick, it’s part of the fun so when the fools pack up we can go around the corner and watch as first, surprise then, rage rips their faces apart. It’s the oldest trick in the book.”

            “You were going to tell me what kind of car it was, Duncan.” Sam was taking a chance calling the drunk Duncan because he mentioned the name earlier.

             “Why did you call me that?” He said, genuinely puzzled. Sam thought his luck had finally run out. “I am Don to you, to them,” He pointed across the barroom floor. “I am Dirty Duncan. Why, you called me The Don sometimes yourself but never ever, ever Duncan.” A scowl emerged on his forehead.

Sam had no plans to upset the drunk this late in the day. He wanted his answer for a reason. “I’m sorry Don. My bad.”

The Don grinned.

               “Now, about the loser’s car, what make did you say it was.” Sam prodded Duncan.

          “A Honda. Yeah,” The Drunk Don shut his eyes in deep thought as if that was a possibility in his unfortunate condition. “A red Honda Accord parked extreme right of the bar park.”

              “Damn,” Sam said. “Double damn.”

Duncan was startled. “Something I said, Dick?” Duncan said.

              “No, Duncan. I mean, Don.” If Duncan wasn’t three sheets to the wind he would have done the math and guessed it was Sam’s car he’d just described. “It’s nothing. A bit sore maybe, cause you always the best prank.” Sam faked a chuckle.

              “I get around.” He sat up straight as much as his fuddled mind would allow and acted important then he unleashed another bray of laughter.

Intuitively, Sam joined him and thought, I’m getting so good at pretending I could do this for a living.

Sam had walked into the Junction Beerjoint fifteen minutes before the drunk tramped in and made his acquaintance. The drunk who called himself Duncan had trudged in and called him Dick, confusing him for his friend. And Sam had a strong feeling that by morning, Duncan would have no memory of this night’s conversation.

              Sam had been stuck at the Council office all day, waist deep in fallout, which had failed to yield neutral ground. He’d spotted the bar on his way home and dropped in to take some of the weight off his chest. They’ll meet in court but Sam’s client had all his documents so that wouldn’t be a problem.

            The highpoint was Sam never fancied he’d paddle home in a wino’s pee when he pulled into a vacant spot at the extreme right of the Junction Beerjoint’s parking lot.

Duncan was slobbering again and Sam had a queer sense that the drunk was about to give himself away. Duncan was running off and Sam longed with all his soul for Duncan to confess to an offence even a crime, anything that carried a tougher penalty than peeing in a car. He wanted to nail the son of booze so much he decided to hear his story.

              “I have a confession to make. The hell of it is we all do, right D?” Duncan coughed out sending a spray of spittle in Sam’s direction.

Sam did not blink, if he noticed, he didn’t show it. He was a lawyer, after all and apathy was a lawyer’s strongest weapon or to convey it in a certain drunk’s words, oldest trick in the book.

            “This is one is straight out of the horse’ mouth, Dick, and it’s the truth. The whole truth.” He demonstrated, threw his arms wide and knocked his bottle, which he’d drained by the way off the counter. It went smashed to the floor and exploded into a million fragments. The bartender appeared from behind a door and before he could create a scene, Sam silenced him with a tip.

                “I guess that settles it,” Sam said              .

Duncan sneered at the bartender. “I’ve been meaning to get this monkey business off my chest and it’s about time, too. That’s why I gotta tell it all and be free from fear. I gotta lay down my burden, just throw ‘em off so I can get my life rearranged.”

Sam felt like screaming, I don’t see that happening if you had two lifetimes for the taking. But said instead, “Go ahead, tell it, Duncan. Let’s hear what’s been eating you up deep inside.” Sam fished out his Android phone and turned on the voice recorder. He laid it on the bar and pretended to fiddle to with it.

Duncan’s next words caught Sam off-guard and he nearly choked on his soda.

                “I saw her picture in the papers, the next morning.”

                “Who?”

Duncan ignored the question. “It was freaking cold outside that night and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. I was just off from losing a bet and furious ‘n a bitch. Been up at Etim’s Place all night shooting craps. I lost a whole lot of money and got desperate. I had to flush the hurt out my system, it was killing me.

“I cut through Cornville Sawmill so that meant I had to come out at Jo Thomas Avenue. A lean mean street, if there ever was one. It was darker than a night in hell and I had to take a leak. Ain’t that the dumbest thing?” The drunk paused and stared into Sam’s eyes. The lawyer’s breath caught in his throat, he thought his cover was blown sky high. “Say what’s gotten into you today? Ain’t you supposed to buy me a drink for telling you stories? I’m kind of thirsty.”

Sam signaled the bartender who came running. Sam guessed the previous tip had put him in the man’s good books. He filled up Duncan’s glass. Duncan grabbed the glass and gulped the content in one swallow then belched like a hippo. The bartender filled up Duncan’s glass again, Sam wanted to stop him but Duncan insisted. Sam uttered a silent prayer that the drunk wouldn’t get bombed and go to sleep on him.

          Duncan finished it at a single draft. The bartender was there to pour out another round. Sam reached out and grabbed his wrist, halting him.

             “The next one better be on the house, buddy,” he said. “I ain’t playing.”

Duncan waited until the bartender retreated into whatever hole he came out from then, resumed his story.

             “I heard strange sounds and they came from out of the way places. But they don’t call that hellhole Outlaw’s Hideout for nothing, do they. These were human shrieks and sobs not like a cat or any other small household pet. I was too mad to be afraid and still brooding over losing the gamble to care.” Duncan belched again. It was as long as it was loud. “The girl was a total knockout my first thought was she fell out of heaven sleepwalking and is stunned cause she’s out of her elements. I didn’t know what the hell to do about her. Then she spotted me within the shadows and squealed louder. I bet she thought I was God’s messenger come to whisk her back to heaven.

             “I drew closer to her, pulling out my phone as I went and trained the light from the torch on her. She was in bad shape and half naked. Some bum had stripped her and,” he shrugged.

              “Raped her.” Sam finished his sentence for him.

              “I dunno, never had the cojones to ask her. She had lost a whole lot of blood, it pooled around her where she lay sprawled in the dirt. Right there in the dark, staring at that poor girl, I had a hard on. ‘I can’t believe this shit,’ I said to myself.” Duncan leveled his head with Sam’s until the two men were eye to eye. Sam observed Duncan was teary-eyed. “She was in a worst-case scenario and possibly a victim of gang-rape. She was marked for death before morning light, If help didn’t get to her and soon. Yet, help stood facing her in her misery and battled a hard on. Christ, how I hated myself for it. I still do.”

The drunk bawled like a baby. The tears poured through his eyes like somebody turned a bucket of cold water over his head. Sam had seen several emotional drunks in his life but this was the first that moved him to tears, lawyer or not.

Duncan jerked his head up and said, “You know what hurt the most? Come on, I know you’re dying to ask.”

                “What,” Sam said.

                “I left the girl lying in that pool of blood and walked away. I didn’t call the cops or an ambulance. Damn, I was scared shitless. Dick, what if somebody came along and saw a half-naked girl drenched in her own blood and a guy with a hard on gloating over her? Bingo! They’d believe they caught the rapist. I’d get life without parole or execution by hanging. End of freaking story.

“The girl could have been drugged and not in the right state of mind to identify the hoods. I’d have gone to jail for the bad guys. Nothing could be crueler. I tried everything I could, damn I punched myself but it did nothing to change the situation.

                “The next morning, I saw her picture in the papers. She died from shock and loss of blood.”

Sam turned off his voice recorder, embarrassed he even bothered in the first. He paid for his drink and Duncan’s, put some cash in the drunk’s pocket and whispered in his ear, “Get out of here and go get your life back, Duncan. This place don’t deserve you.” He patted him on the shoulder and walked out into the night.

At the door, Sam met a man who could have been his twin in another lifetime. “Hello, Dick,” he said, and fetched his car.

When he drove home that night, Sam was proud of the man who put the stench in his car.

Eneh Akpan

June 4, 2013.