Sleeping with Marbles

My pants are wet. The sound of someone peeing. Jesus what is going on? Eyes open now. Head hurts. I feel the cold plastic of my bathtub against my back; I’m sitting in a half filled tub of cold water. A medium bottle of Makers Mark bobs up and down in the water. It’s empty. Fuck.

“Bapu? What the fuck are you doing in here?” I hear the voice of my roommates’ girlfriend. She sounds close. I slide the glass door to the side (just a crack) She is on the toilet. Her are eyes wide. Embarrassing.

“I guess I fell asleep in the bath.” I mumble, sitting back into the cold water.

“Again?” she screeches, trying to hide the sound of her tinkle. I giggle as I hear it. This is wildly inappropriate I think to myself. She finishes and then slides back the glass door and stares at me, laughing.

“Hey! I could be naked you know!” She smiles at me, her eyes glancing down at my crotch. I do the same. I’m wearing all my clothes, sneakers and all. Fuck.

“You’re the only person who comes home and takes a bath with all of your clothes on, Jesus Bapu… she break up with you again?” I light up a smoke and think about her question. Did she break up with me again? It’s the only explanation for me getting shit faced and subconsciously trying to drown myself in my own tub.

“I guess so.” I mumble, suddenly feeling very awkward and silly.

“What did you do this time?” Shit I have no Idea. What did I do this time?

“I miss spelled her name in an angry e-mail I sent her ex boyfriend, not sure if it was that or if it was the e-mail. Don’t really remember.” I recall, blowing a ring of smoke toward the fire detector, cause I’m dangerous like that.

“How did you miss spell her name? Does she have a crazy last name or something?” She asks as she checks her hair out in the mirror.

“No I miss spelled her first name.”

“You moron, how did she see this e-mail anyway?” She asks.

“I guess he showed it to her, dick. Although I would have done the same thing to him. I did ‘steal’ his girlfriend and all.” I’m getting out of the tub now; secretly hoping my cell phone is not in my pocket. She laughs, shaking her head. She’s leaving now. I’m going back to my room. Wet.

I haven’t been sleeping. Every night I toss and turn, probably why I get drunk and sleep in the bathtub. I miss having that warm body in my bed. We never snuggled, or spooned, or late night fucked. When it was time to sleep, we slept, no frills, no lipstick lesbian bullshit. All this was fine by me, but I miss just knowing that there was someone on the other side of the bed. I try putting computers, books, porn DVDS, anything. Still can’t sleep. When I do sleep, I dream of her. Fuck you.

I’m on the street now. It’s going to be a drinking day for me, whiskey for the hangover, six hours of MASH, and Chinese food when my hands start shaking. Fuck chocolate and wine, I’m a man. Or at least I pretend to be. Shut up. I need sleep. Going crazy. I head to my favorite liqueur store on Polk Street. Chit chat with the guy behind the counter, yeah the weather sucks, the Giants need someone who can hit the ball, I miss Bonds, have a good day. Back on the street now. Trip fall. Fuck. I’m pissed, Look down. There is a small blue marble on the concrete. I pick it up, fingering it as it goes in my pocket. Fucking marbles.

Six hours later. I’m drunk, bored with MASH, and sleepy. I pull the marble out of my pocket and place it on the bed. I wonder. Would sleeping next to this marble help me sleep? I carefully arrange the pillows on her side of the bed, placing the marble where she would sleep. It’s there. Don’t touch it or it will move. Don’t roll on it or it will hurt you. Sleep on your side of the bed. Marveling. This marble really is just like my ex girlfriend. I roll over and fall fast asleep.

Coma patients don’t sleep this good.

Wow that was so not PC.

Whatever, fuck you, Ronald Reagan.