Bar Song Six

Sitting in Jack's bar that night, next to Don. His head ducked down, eyes fixed on his drink.
A kid. He had hit a kid. A little boy, no older than his Joey.
Don was the one to call the hospital. He had his cell phone out already- sending his wife a dirty text message.
The ambulance arrived in an attack of light and sound. George stll, and will continue to for a long time to come, see those spinning red and blue lights when he closed his eyes.
The went to the ER, and was found to have two seperate breaks on his left leg, as well as a large collection of cuts and bruises on his side, back, and face, as well as a second degree concusion.
"An almost comical amount of damage for such a small collision" George thought to himself, with no humor.
This thought he followed with a dreaing of the beer in his right hand.
He set it down. It made a sad, empty 'clunk' as it made contact with the counter. He ordered another one.
This was one's sound was much better, and fuller.

George got home late, quite late, but not drunk. He was a man who could hold his liquor.
The house was dark and silent, so he picked his way carefully to the bathroom.
Where he realized he had forgotten to buy toliet paper after all. Shit.
He made do with kleenex.

He crawled gently into bed, so as not to wake Mary. He looked at her blonde, soft hair, and her slowly rising and falling back. Since when was she wearing her hair short like that?

George remembers what is was like to live alone. He remembers cooking for himself. He remembers losing his key. He remembers the size, or lack there of, of his perfectly square apartment. It was like living in a giant cube. He remembers hating the smell of the building.
He remembers falling asleep on the couch, because his bed was just too big and empty.
He remembers when Mary moved in, and how he loved falling asleep knowing she was there. He remembers enjoying how she would smile and sigh in her sleep exactly 2.3 seconds before she rolled over, and how it made him feel like a hero to keep her warm when she was shivering. He remembers the safety of knowing she'd still be there when he woke up.

He remembers all of that.
What he doesn't remember is when he stopped loving it, or why.

George watched her sleeping for a few minutes longer, and then, with a sigh barely preceptable to even the most careful of listeners, he turned his back to her, and went to sleep.