Still, I would have liked to have fucked her. In fact, my cock was getting hard just thinking about it. I looked around. As there was nobody else nearby, I unzipped my pants and took out my cock. I began stroking it, fantasizing about fucking the goth in the ass. After a few minutes, I shot my load on the gum-covered underside of the table. I wiped myself off with a napkin and put it away. Nobody had seen me.
After I had polished off my beer, I considered what I was going to do next. I could finish reading Will o’ the Wisp, I thought. I still had about one third of it left. But I didn’t want to do it in this bar. Since the sun was out and it wasn’t too cold outside, I thought of going to a park instead. I could even buy some beers and sip on them whilst I finished the book. The plan seemed sound.
Before leaving the bar, I went to the counter and ordered a shot of whiskey. Imagining myself as an outlaw, I downed it, slammed the shot glass on the counter, and left.
21
After purchasing a few beers from a nearby store, I walked to Freedom Square. Next to it, on top of a small hill, was a park that I had sometimes visited in the past.
I climbed the steps until I reached the top. Up on the top was a small pavilion, a fountain, and some benches. Near one of the benches stood some teenagers, listening to shitty techno music on their phone, and drinking something, probably cider. They looked underage.
I chose a bench far away from them. I put the beers on the bench and sat down. In front of me was a nice view overlooking Freedom Square, with high-rise buildings in the distance. On the square were some Estonian flags, as well as a monument—I neither knew what for nor did I care.
There was also the church where my aunt’s funeral had been held. I remembered standing over her open casket and looking at her lifeless body. She had looked so peaceful. Although it was a great tragedy for the people at the funeral that she was gone, some of them even openly weeping over her, in truth, death was only a tragedy to those left behind. For her, all her problems were over. For the people weeping over her, something valuable had been taken from their life without their consent. Their tears were born from selfishness.
I took out Will o’ the Wisp and cracked open a beer. I began reading:
Why was Alain going on? Had he not seen enough? And if he wanted to kill himself, what better time was there than seven or eight o’clock in the evening, when all the passions, unburdened from work, rush at full speed across town in a maddening vortex? But no, life is only a habit, and the habit holds you as long as life lasts.
It took me about an hour to reach the end of the book. The ending cut like a knife. Even more so than the first time I had read it.
As I was sitting there, staring into the distance and thinking about the book’s ending, a hobo came up to my bench. He had a bushy beard and curly hair and was wearing an old black suit which was somewhat dirty.
“Hi there,” he said.
“Hello.”
“I didn’t want to bother you before because you was readin’.”
“That’s all right.”
“Whatchu readin’ by the way?”
“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath. “It’s a book about a guy who’s very unhappy. And he’s trying to find a reason to survive. But he can’t find any.”
“Sounds like heavy stuff. Why you be readin’ stuff like that?”
“Because it reminds me of my own life.”
He nodded. “Yeah… this world be a cruel place, my friend. A cruel place indeed.” He pointed to himself. “Believe me, I knows.”
“I bet you do.”
“By the way, I sees you drinkin’ some beer from over there. Mind sharin’ one?”
“Sure,” I said, handing him a can of Heineken and getting a new one for myself.
“Mighty kind of you.”
He sat down next to me, opened the can, and took a big gulp. “That goes down real smooth,” he said.
We sat there for a while, drinking our beers.
“You know,” I said. “I’ve also got some whiskey, if you’re interested.” I took out my flask and shook it.
“Say, that’s a very nice flask you got there. What’s it say?”
I rotated it in my hands, letting the sunlight glint off the engraved words. “It says, find what you love and let it kill you.”
He wrinkled his brow. “What does that mean?”
I thought for a moment. “I guess it means that since life is eventually going to kill you anyway, you might as well find something in life that you like and have that kill you, instead of leaving it up to fate.”
“Like alcohol?”
“Yeah,” I said. “Or women.”
He flashed a toothy grin—a few teeth were missing—and chuckled. “Ain’t that the truth.”
I uncorked the flask and extended it to him.
“Hang on. You don’t want to be sharin’ that with a dirty old bum like me. We gonna do it like proper gentlemen.” He put his hand in his pocket and got out something wrapped in a paper towel. He unwrapped it; there were two shot glasses inside. “Don’t worry, they’s clean. I got them from this bar nearby. Been waitin’ for the right opportunity.” He handed me one of the glasses.
“Thanks,” I said and poured us both a shot.
“Much obliged,” he said.
I started lifting the glass to my mouth when the hobo said, “Wait, wait. We need a toast.”
“A toast?”
“Yessir. Proper.”
“Well, all right. Whatcha got?”
He thought for a moment before saying, “To strangers… who are kind with their liquor.” He gave a smile.
“To kind strangers,” I said, clinking my glass against his.
After we downed our shots, I poured us new ones. “Okay, I’ve got one too,” I said.
“Let’s hear it.”
“To surviving in a world that doesn’t give a shit.”
He nodded. “Hey, that’s good.”
We clinked the glasses and downed the shots. We then sat there for a bit, drinking our beers and looking at the skyline. The sun was beginning to set, drowning everything in its blood-red hue. One day the sun would be no more. Nothing would.
After some time, the hobo spoke. “You know, like I say… I knows. I knows this world ain’t worth to piss on. I knows most people be crooked. Even bums be stealin’ from me from time to time. Not that I’ve anythin’ worth stealin’.” He chuckled. “Yeah, I even been on them railroad tracks a few times. Placed my head on ‘em. Waitin’ for the train to arrive. But each time I start seein’ that train in the distance, I thinks, well… maybe I should just wait a bit, you know? Maybe it gets better. Maybe only a little… but maybe that be enough.”
“And? Has it gotten any better?”
“I suppose. Seein’ I’m still alive. Or, hell, maybe I just gotten so used to it by now, who knows.”
“Seems to only get worse for me.”
“Yeah, I hear you. But maybe you hasn’t reached that point yet where you’s ready to go and lay down on them railroad tracks, or wherever you’d do it. Maybe once you reach that point, you gonna think like me—if I’s already ready to go, maybe I’s just gonna wait a little first, see what the future bring. Maybe it bring a little somethin’, you know. Just a bit. Just enough to help me survive a little while longer.”
I sighed deeply. “I sincerely hope so.”
“Yeah, me too.” He pulled up one of his sleeves and looked at the time; it didn’t seem as though the watch was working. “Well, I gotta get goin’.”