Passers-by (a short story)March 22, 2007

I’d received my acceptance letter in the mail, it was from my college of choice. That evening I decided to take a walk out on the beach. The beach is close no matter where you live in San Diego, but so is the military base. The draft numbers had been issued today.

In order to celebrate properly I bought a fifth of Bushmills. The man behind the counter asked me when I was shipping out. I couldn’t help myself, I grinned. I said I’m not going to fight, that’s what this whisky is for. The man’s face was grim, and he said he’d seen a lot of other guys my age come in today and buy bigger bottles of whisky, but for a different reason. I paid for my fifth and asked the man if he knew anyone who’s been drafted. He said, yes, my brother’s son.

I’d finished half the bottle by the time I got to the beach, now I wished I’d gotten the bigger bottle. I took a sip and watched the black ocean waves come and go. I heard a patter of feet slapping wet sand, then I saw a couple of guys running along the waterline, directly at me. One was right on the heels of the other. Maybe the first guy had stolen something from his pursuer. Or maybe the pursuer was homicidal and sought out a perfect stranger for sport. Or maybe they were both chasing a third guy. Or maybe they are separately running for exercise on the beach at night in the full moonlight. My lack of understanding made the situation exciting.

I stepped back and the men ran by. I caught a whiff of bourbon. Then both of them began to laugh and they slowed, then stopped, then dropped to the ground in exhaustion. They were chuckling, kind of half-way laughing to themselves. After a few moments one of them pushed himself from out of the sand and sat indian-style with his head hanging. The other sat up and sat likewise. They sat in silence, they no longer chuckled. In the moonlight I saw the lines in their foreheads, even from a distance.

Then one of them looked at me. Hey man, he cried, waving an arm. Got any more of whatever’s in that bottle? Both of them eyed my whisky as I walked toward them. I took a pull and handed it to the one who’d spoken to me. He had kind of a round, tall forehead that made him look like he had a big brain. He took a long pull. He gave it to his friend, an emaciated guy, who took a sip and handed it to me without making eye contact. I screwed the cap on. The brain guy told me to sit down. I did, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. We all three watched the waves.

When do you go out? asked the brain guy.

I don’t, I said. I just got into school. The skinny guy looked at me for the first time, so did the brain guy. Their mouths were open.

What about you guys? I asked.

We got our numbers today, said the brain guy.

Which numbers did you get? I asked.

Both of them spoke at the same time: One. I shook my head. They shook their heads. I handed the bottle to the skinny guy.

He unscrewed the cap.