Or maybe this was just a different kind of alone.Īlcohol used to be his friend at times like this. More so than after he’d found out about Ian and Sam. Tierney stared into his bourbon on the rocks, feeling more alone than he ever had in his life. Why had he thought about that stuff? Now one of the inmates, Morose, pulled up a barstool, not saying much but depressing the shit out of the place. All of “this”: the being in love with his best friend but not able to have him, and the being in the closet shit, and what his life had become.įuck. If he were drinking with someone this wouldn’t be so pathetic. What about tomorrow? Are we doing this forever? Half a bottle of liquor into his night, well buzzed but not quite drunk yet, sitting on his couch and watching Star Trek for lack of anything more interesting to do, it hit Tierney that drinking alone was a sign of alcoholism.īut he wasn’t an alcoholic, right? He was just using it to deal with a temporary period of stress. It wasn’t, of course: she spent another ten minutes instructing him on various points of behavior before he managed to convince her he had an important text.įor the most part, Tierney didn’t let the old guy’s death get to him, but after a conversation like that, he deserved a drink after work. “Yes, Mother.” He stood from his desk, hoping to signal the end of their little tête-à-tête. Wouldn’t it be fun to tell her why Grandfather had kept tabs on him? Right.
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