“Loes!”, I said in a daze when we stood outside. “Well… The bar boy refused to give me the vodka. Then I called Tom, the owner.” She actually looked proud. “Seriously?” I asked. “Why the hell?”
“Well, I don’t have any vodka in the house.” “Um… I said, slightly irritated and also embarrassed by this behavior. “Two vodkas are enough for me,” I said. “Yes, but not me…” she responded, as she proudly placed the bottle on the table at home.
Fifteen minutes later, I was having tea, she was having a drink, I said: “I’m hungry. Shall we cook together?” I was afraid she would be too tipsy to prepare anything and I was hungry. Strangely enough, I felt guilty about that, that I was busy with my appetite.
At that moment Lars came in. Before he could even greet me, he exploded, pointing at the vodka. “And what is that bottle doing here, Loes?” He looked angry.
Loes laughed faintly, her head hung slightly to the side and she said: “Oh… that one? It’s from Maaike. She brought vodka.”
“What do we get now?” I said, astonished. “I’m there, aren’t I? You just begged for that bottle from the bar owner yourself.” As if that wasn’t embarrassing enough.
She looked at me angrily, I had betrayed her. But I was also angry. I’m not going to let myself be put in front of her drinks cart, I thought. “I’m hungry, I’m going to get something to eat,” I said and grabbed my jacket. “Then you can continue… talking.”
Lars was furious, the argument was still in full swing. When I came back with a falafel sandwich it was dark in the house. Lars had showered and said: “Loes is in bed and I will go soon too. I’m exhausted from doing odd jobs and have been out since 5am.” It wasn’t even 8 p.m. yet. I wanted to go home, but I had already had a drink, so driving was not an option. I watched some TV, set the alarm, and snuck out of their guest room at 7 the next morning. I returned home disillusioned.
Around 10 o’clock I received a text from Loes: “Did you go to the market or something? I wanted to make you breakfast, but you’re not here.”
“I’m home,” I texted.
“WHAT?” She called immediately. “What do you mean and why?”
“Do I really have to explain that? You don’t have to explain the red carpet when I come to stay, but it’s not fun to immediately sit in the pub with your bad drinking friends. Then you smuggle vodka home yourself and casually tell your husband that I am to blame.”
She immediately said: “But why did you order vodka in the pub? Maaike, you know that I can’t handle strong drinks, right?”
“Oh, so it’s MY fault? YOU were drinking in the pub long before I walked in.
You have a drinking problem, I don’t.” It was out.
Loes remained silent and replied after a long time: “You’re right.” We didn’t have much to say anymore, so I hung up.
Two hours later a beautiful, soothing bouquet of flowers was delivered. Loes was sorry, the card said. But it was too late, vodka had ruined our years of friendship.
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Tags: betrayed bottle booze broke friendship
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