I went to my place, started drinking. I snapped on the radio and found some classical music. I got my Coleman lantern out of the closet. I turned out the lights and sat playing with the Coleman lantern. There were tricks you could play with a Coleman lantern. Like turning it off and then on again and watching the heat of the wick relight it. I also liked to pump the lantern and bring up the pressure. And then there was simply the pleasure of looking at it. I drank and watched the lantern and listened to the music and smoked a cigar.

The phone rang. It was Lydia. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“Just sitting around.”

“You’re sitting around and drinking and listening to symphony music and playing with that goddamned Coleman lantern!”

“Yes.”

“Are you coming back?”

“No.”

“All right, drink! Drink and get sick! You know that stuff almost killed you once. Do you remember the hospital?” “I’ll never forget it.”

“All right, drink, DRINK! KILL YOURSELF! SEE IF I GIVE A SHIT!”

Lydia hung up and so did I. Something told me she wasn’t as worried about my possible death as she was about her next fuck. But I needed a vacation. I needed a rest. Lydia liked to fuck at least nve times a week. I preferred three. I got up and went into the breakfast nook where my typewriter stood on the table. I turned on the light, sat down and typed Lydia a 4- page letter. Then I went into the bathroom, got a razorblade, came out, sat down and had a good drink. I took the razorblade and sliced the middle finger of my right hand. The blood ran. I signed my name to the letter in blood.

I went down to the corner mailbox and dropped the letter in.

The phone rang several times. It was Lydia. She screamed things at me.

“I’m going out DANCING! I’m not going to sit around alone while you drink!”

I told her, “You act like drinking is like my going with another woman.”

“It’s worse!”

She hung up.

I kept drinking. I didn’t feel like sleeping. Soon it was midnight, then 1 am, 2 am. The Coleman lantern burned on. . . .

At 3:30 am the phone rang. Lydia again. “Are you still drink-ing?”

“Sure!”

“You rotten son of a bitch!”

“In fact just as you called I was peeling the cellophane off this pint of Cutty Sark. It’s beautiful. You ought to see it!”

She slammed down the phone. I mixed another drink. There was good music on the radio. I leaned back. I felt very good.

The door banged open and Lydia ran into the room. She stood there panting. The pint was on the coffee table. She saw it and grabbed it. I jumped up and grabbed her. When I was drunk and Lydia was insane we were nearly an equal match. She held the bottle high in the air, away from me, and tried to get out of the door with it. I grabbed the arm that held the bottle, and tried to get it away from her.

“YOU WHORE! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! GIVE ME THAT FUCKING BOTTLE!”

Then we were out on the porch, wrestling. We tripped on the stairs and fell to the pavement. The bottle smashed and broke on the cement. She got up and ran off. I heard her car start. I lay there and looked at the broken bottle. It was a foot away. Lydia drove off. The moon was still up. In the bottom of what was left of the bottle I could see a swallow of scotch. Stretched out there on the pavement I reached for it and lifted it to my mouth. A long shard of glass almost poked into one of my eyes as I drank what remained. Then I got up and went inside. The thirst in me was terrible. I walked around picking up beer bottles and drinking the bit that remained in each one. Once I got a mouthful of ashes as I often used beer bottles for ashtrays. It was 4:14 am. I sat and watched the clock. It was like working in the post office again. Time was motionless while existence was a throbbing unbearable thing. I waited. I waited. I waited. I waited. Finally it was 6 am. I walked to the corner to the liquor store. A clerk was opening up. He let me in. I purchased another pint of Cutty Sark. I walked back home, locked the door and phoned Lydia.

“I have here one pint of Cutty Sark from which I am peeling the cellophane. I am going to have a drink. And the liquor store will now be open for 20 hours.”

She hung up. I had one drink and then walked into the bedroom, stretched out on the bed, and went to sleep without taking off my clothes.