Alcohol has made me do many things – some insane, some hilarious, and some plain evil. It was insane and unlike my somewhat prudish personality, when my Puerto Rican BFF (Bacardi) unleashed my inhibitions and I slept with Johnny on our third date. In a jibarro accent, Mr. Superior yelled, “Nena! Deja de ser tan cabrona y agarra ese hombre!” So I did, and though I cried like a blubbering fool afterward, I felt free during those glorious 20 minutes.
There have also been plenty of hilarious moments due to an overabundance of alcohol consumption. Like when my hard-core drinking Indian friend Janet and I stumbled down the stairs of a club in Cancun, or when my Dominicanita Ceylin was so trashed she fell asleep smiling. But then there are those evil moments. Like when I gulped down half a bottle of Southern Comfort with Janet and then called Alicia, my college nemesis who was sexing Kurt, my college love interest. It wasn’t a friendly call. It was more of a “Imma-tell-your-boyfriend-from-home-about-your-sexcapades-so-don’t-fuck-with-me-pendeja” call. I scared the living shit out of Alicia and then hung up the phone triumphant. Muahahahaha!
Regardless of how evil I can be (and trust me, I can be evil under the spell of a little Patron and a lot of Limon), I have never single-handedly murdered someone’s spirit or anything else for that matter. I’ve never killed anything in my life, drunk or not, and my intoxicating Puerto Rican BFF, Bacardi, can attest to that. He can also state with assertion that I didn’t killing Susie.
Susie. Positive and tender and mellow Susie. Like myself, my BFF Bacardi, my cousin Maneka and Lea, and my sister Adriana saw Susie alive and kicking at the annual LUL Christmas party at LQs. We all saw her roaming around the bar. We all felt her supportive glances when Double Duce held me in an embrace, danced a merengue with me, and kissed me on the lips. But then Double Duce had a little too much Grey Goose and Susie disappeared. Poof! She was gone! And then came the accusations:
“You’re getting to attached to me,” Double Duce blurted while I leaned on the bar, facing him.
“Excuse me?” I asked, astonished.
“I just don’t want anything serious. I don’t want any drama,” he continued. I gaped. Gasped. Gagged.
“Wait. You’re accusing me of being too attached? I don’t call you. You call me. You ask me to hang out. You danced with me tonight, kissed me on the lips…that was all you. I’m chilling,” I fumed.
“You gave me a look when I said I was going to hang out with my boys tonight.”
“A look? What look?” I was dumbstruck. The night was going so well, especially after our last time spent together when we decided to go with the flow. I was flowing, dammit, and he was, well, he was drunk and insane. Where was Susie when I needed her?
“I don’t want to deal with this,” Double Duce stated dryly. I tried looking him in his eyes to read his look but they were unfocused, far, far away. I exhaled, turned around and picked up my drink. My BFF Bacardi soothed my throat and loosened my muscles. My legs wobbled. My head light. My cares gone.
“I don’t understand what just happened here but do what you want,” I replied after a few sips.
Double Duce glanced at me for a second before turning on his heel and walking away. He blended into the crowd and I gathered around my friends.
“What happened?” Maneca asked.
“I honestly don’t know,” I replied. Maneca looked at me intently but I shrugged it off and danced the night away. I also stopped looking for Susie and continued drinking instead.
Later on that night, while lying on my sister Adriana’s bed, I tried to sleep. But rest did not come easy. Double Duce called me repeatedly. The conversation was a repetition of the conversation at LQ’s. In his drunken stupor, Double Duce accused me of being too attached though he called me four different times after 3AM, though he continued to bring up emotions, though he asked me to come over to his apartment that very night.
The following morning I woke up exhausted but ready to start anew with Double Duce, discuss the night before and find Susie. Instead I found that Double Duce had deleted me from his Blackberry Messenger. I stared at my cell in shock. BB Messenger was our main form of communication and I was no longer on his list. That’s when I knew Susie would not reappear. Susie. Positive and tender and mellow Susie. The spirit and energy that was Double Duce and I would not reemerge from the shadows of drunkenness, and he blamed me. Double Duce blamed me for killing Susie but my BFF Bacardi and I knew the truth.
I didn’t kill Susie. He did.