My hands were sticky.   Was it from the bar?  It was dark.  The closest streetlight was half a block away and I couldn’t see what was on them.  When did the sun go down?

     I looked up and out past hands that had been covering my eyes and saw the sign for Finn McCools.  What had it been this time, I wondered, dropping my head back into the web of my fingers: Harpoon, Bass, Guinness?  Which empty pint had led me here?  This time.  It had the makings or more than just your average craic.

     Flashes made sense.  Sitting at the bar.  A crowd.  The smell of smoke wafting past me.  Bonnie close by, her arm brushing against mine.  A smile, a laugh.  Unsteady feet toward the toilet.  More stout of some sort.  Walking back up Telemachus Street, but with who, to where?  It’d be maddening if it wasn’t familiar.

     I exhaled slowly and leaned back, propping myself up on my palms, reclining in the grass, my feet sprawled over the cracked curb.  My hands still felt sticky.  I wiped one in the wet grass, while leaning on the other arm, then did the same with the other.  It didn't help.  I still couldn't see what was on them.

     A car drove past, turning too close to the car parked next to the bar, almost sideswiping it, before veering away at the last second.  I tried to laugh, but it came out a cough.  You learned to recognize your own.  I tried to laugh again.  I coughed again.  The car hit a massive pothole down the road and bounced violently.  That’s how it was.  I wouldn’t have it any other way.

     “Hey,” someone said from just off my left.

     I looked up.  Whoever it was, was blurry.  I just stared.

     “Hey.” It was a woman’s voice.

     She leaned over to push hair out of my face and dabbed at the skin underneath with a wet towel.

     “Are you okay?” she asked.

     “Sure,” I said.

     “You are a giant idiot.”

     I didn’t know what to say.  Maybe I had been streaking all throughout Mid-City; or had stolen a car, driven it to the burbs to find a drive-through Daiquiri stand and accidently gone over the Causeway trying to get home.  “Don’t shout,” was all I could come up with.

     She knelt next to me.  I could tell it was Bonnie.

     “You don’t even know what you did, do you?” she asked.  She kept dabbing my head with that towel.  It was warm.  It felt good and stung all at the same time.

     I didn’t say anything.  “Is there a good game on?” I asked.

     “You and your damn football crew,” was all she said.  “Do you even know what time it is?”

     I looked up at the sky.  Orion was falling to the earth.  It didn’t tell me much.

     Bonnie rolled her eyes at me.  “I'll say one thing for you.  You have an unerring capacity to endure.”

     “It what I do best,” I said.

     For some reason, she looked at the towel in her hands.  “Let me help you up,” she said.  “Just come in and have a glass of water, and let me look at your head under the light.”

     I leaned forward, sitting up, and she pushed back, standing, and then held out her hand.  I could make her out a bit better now.

     Bonnie always helped me out despite my flaws.  In fact, she may have liked me because of them.  Anyone can fit in.  It’s a lot harder to be yourself.  I guessed no matter the trouble I caused, she always knew it was good natured, and no matter what anyone said, I was the kind of trouble most people really wanted to be around.

     Bonnie helped me up and walked me toward the door into Finn McCools.  Her arm was around mine and my vision was clearing.  I told her I needed to wash my hands, but she just rolled her eyes at me and shook her head.

     “I’ll take care of it,” she said.

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