Whisky

Written 54-F28 [2023-01-04], Edited 54-F28 [2023-01-04]

Image credit: Twitter Twemoji

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I got your name?” said Uncle Samuel. His wrinkled hands shook ever so slightly.

“I am Mark,” I said to Uncle Samuel. At least, the person who looked like Uncle Samuel. His wrinkled hands looked like Uncle Samuel’s but they were constantly shaking. His white mustache looked like Uncle Samuel’s, but the mouth underneath moved so slowly and spoke so simply.

His eyes looked at me like Uncle Samuel’s had so many times throughout my life. But the mind who saw through those eyes did not recognize me.

“I am Rebecca’s son,” I told him. My mother, Samuel’s sister Rebecca, was on the other side of the room, talking with Grandma.

“Oh, I see,” Uncle Samuel said. He nodded his head slowly, millimeter by millimeter. He said he “saw”, but what did he see? He didn’t see the child who he taught chess to. Nor did he see the teenager who asked him for advice on his chemistry homework. He certainly did not see the man who spent years in another province, perhaps never to return.

“If you don’t mind me prying,” asked Uncle Samuel. “Are you studying or working?”

“I’m working,” I told my uncle. Could I still call him my uncle? “I work as a bartender.”

“A bartender,” Uncle Samuel said. “Interesting.”

It was not the life I chose. It was just a way to get by for a while.

“So what is your favourite drink?” asked Uncle Samuel.

“I prefer whisky,” I told Uncle Samuel. I smiled as I prepared to joke about how it helps me forget. It’s the kind of joke that Uncle Samuel would have liked. The kind of joke I will never tell him ever again.

“Could you say that again? I’m sorry, I just couldn’t hear it” he said.

“Bourbon,” I said.

“But what is bourbon?” asked Uncle Samuel.

I considered telling him that it was a kind of booze and leaving it at that. But he had asked me my favourite drink. He knew I was talking about something alcoholic.

Didn’t he?

“It’s a whisky. It’s got over 40 percent alcohol by volume. It’s often used in cocktails and sometimes even mixed into sweet foods, but I usually just have it with ice.”

“Fascinating,” said Uncle Samuel. But my words were not fascinating in the least. What was fascinating was that Uncle Samuel would never remember any of this, and I would surely never forget.

“I’m sorry,” my uncle said. “I don’t think I got your name?”