I have two friends, Fettercairn and ice.

SWR #6 – I have two friends, Fettercairn and ice.
Akira's Drunken Soliloquy

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“Barkeep. Fettercain on the rocks. To the rim.” I said, sliding some money across the table as I leaned my face forward into my palm. I knew exactly how much it cost here. I came here often enough to remember, despite how much the alcohol made me forget.

“Rough day, 'Kira?” This barkeep liked calling me Kira, instead of Akira. 'Cuz with looks like you got, you're a killer on the eyes', he told me. I guess he knew enough of English to know that Kira was essentially Killer, but all engrish and shit.

I sighed. “Rough life, Isamu.” He frowned at me as he passed me the glass filled with my scotch. “Wanna chat about it? You're a regular, I'd like ta' help ya if I can.” He said as he wiped down a glass near the sink. It was slow right now, being close to closing time.

“Nah. Just keep the scotch pouring so long as I ask for it.” He pats me on the shoulder. “Can do, but don't over do it. Gotta keep your health in consideration.

“Yeah, yeah.”

I sipped the scotch, looking at the varnished counter. Life sucked. It was stressful, unrewarding, and generally went without any kind of thanks or appreciation. My father, being a big business man, appointed me the CEO of our smaller Japanese branch. Besides being stressful running a whole branch of our company, my father was always on me about the finances, improving revenue and all sorts of shit.

I never asked for any of this, I just asked him for a job. A desk job. Anything simple that would pay the bills. Instead, he puts me through business management, drills studies into me and when I graduate top of our class, he throws a CEO position at me. Hell, it made me enough money... but sometimes the money wasn't worth it.

I closed my eyes. Sometimes it made me want to just fuckin' break down and cry. I couldn't though. I had a lot riding on me. My father depended on me, Lilly depended on me. Shizune's family sometimes depended on me, too. It was all too much.

Even my boyfriend made my life difficult. Some suit wearing loser that I started dating just so I could figure things out about his company. People in positions of power tend to gripe about things. After a quick fuck in bed, the things he'd complain about were things that my father were keeping in his back pocket to use against the company the minute they opposed our markets.

At first, I really kinda liked him. He was attractive, rugged. Funny. But then I realized how superficial of a human being he was after a couple of. Now it's just a way for me to get off and a marriage of convenience for my family. Well, we're not married... but fuck it, the analogy fits. I tip back my glass a little, sipping more and enjoying the fuzziness the liquor provides me. It makes the thoughts flow easier, but they're always so fuzzy I can never realize what I'm thinking about.

That's what I wanted. A reprieve from thought. And maybe a more fun job. Something I could enjoy. Like a daycare or something. Kids are fun as hell, if a little annoying. Hell, being a waitress or a chef could be more fun than working for my father. Meetings with him were more like him shouting at me to be less of a failure and make him more money. Yeah, thanks dad. Where were you our childhood, again? Oh right, working. Fucking asshole.

Even though I worked as hard and did nearly as much, I still made time for my family. Lilly, mainly. Our family ignored her so often because they just didn't know how to cope with her blindness. They acted like it was something that could just be ignored and it'd get better. That was what pissed me off most. How he treated her. I feel like he used his job as an excuse to cope with not having a 'perfect' daughter like he wanted.

That's all he ever wanted out of us. Perfection. Consistent fucking perfection. I finished the glass and slammed it down, my anger at my father expressed on my face. It wasn't long before the barkeep refilled my glass. “Thanks.” I muttered as I tilted it back again. Fettercairn was a bitter taste to me. A taste I didn't want to forget.

It was something I had drank with my first love. A person I still missed. A guy who I had met back when I was just doing odd jobs around Japan to make money while I helped Lily get settled into Yamaku. He had it imported for me, because he knew I was scottish. I smiled bitterly to myself. Drinking deeply.

What a night it was. He had a nice car, some muscle car that his father had sold to him. His father was a connoisseur of American muscle cars and had imported an old broken down ninety-one Chevelle into Japan, where he fixed it all up, rebuilt it and sold it to his son when he got old and responsible enough.

We sat on a cliff looking over a forest on the hood of that car, sipping Fettercain while he wrapped his arm around me. It was the first time he said he loved me. We made love that night, in the backseat of his car, alone on that cliff, under the stars. I broke up with him because of the position I had and how little I'd be able to see him. As much as it broke my heart to do so, I had to. It would've been worse if I had let things fall apart on their own.

I just wanted him to at least know I loved him and wished him the best. So I ended the relationship at a high point, having the only bad memory we shared being that one. It was better that way. So I told myself all the time. I had to fight with myself on the fact that it might've been better the other way, in reality.

I tipped back the glass completely, glass hitting my teeth and the fog of alcohol clouding my mind. I wonder who he was loving now.

I looked to my glass.

I wasn't drunk enough yet.