What the hell happened?!

As my surroundings came into focus, that was all I could think.

Last I recall I was at the No Exit having a drink and watching the Spurs. I don’t even remember leaving.

Now I’m staring up at giant warehouse lights. I’m flat on my back on a cold grey concrete floor. There are what look like conveyor belts on both sides of me.

On one side, rows and rows of empty milk bottles move along, creating a constant low-level clatter of glass touching glass. On the other side, the same bottles, filled with milk.

I pull myself to my feet and stumble toward the green exit sign hoping not to encounter anyone.

Pushing the heavy metal door open, I’m blinded by the sunshine pouring in. I squint. Outside it’s quiet, except for the humming sounds coming from the factory.

I recognize this place. I’ve ridden by a thousand times on my way home from the pub. It’s Miller’s Dairy. But I’ve never been inside and why did I stop here?

Then I see it, lying next to the tree, and a memory forces it’s way through the mental fog. My bicycle. The front tire bent and flat. I crashed it into the tree. I remember.

But was I really that drunk? Was I being reckless? Did I hit my head when I crashed and lose my memory? Still unsteady, I grabbed up the remains of my bike and started pushing it the mile towards home.

As I walked, I fought to remember. The pub. The beer, no more than my usual amount, I think. The game. My team losing as usual when it matters.

And there it was. The missing piece. The woman I’d never seen before who walked in, turning the heads of every person in the place. She sat down next to me.

We flirted. I bought her a drink. She seemed interested and then asked if I was married. I said I was, unhappily. She kept flirting but her demeanor changed ever so slightly.

I started to feel a strange cloudiness. My words slurred. Her expression changed to one of anger and she pulled out a large leather-bound bible from her purse. She began to read the proverb: “So be happy with your wife and find joy with the woman you married.”

Then just as I felt ready to collapse she told me the drug she’d spiked my beer with would knock me out in a few minutes and when it did she’d call my wife to come pick me up and tell her the story of my betrayal.

I couldn’t let that happen. I crashed through tables getting to the door. I found my bike and let muscle memory propel me forward.

I remember thinking over and over what a fool I was, what a sorry state I’d be in without Suzy. And then I hit the tree.

As I walked the last few steps up to my driveway pushing the bike, our house was quiet. At first I was relieved. But shouldn’t Suzy have been worried when I didn’t come home? Wouldn’t she have sent someone searching? Wouldn’t neighbors be gathered around the yard consoling her?

I leaned my bike against the garage door. I went to the side door and let myself into the kitchen. Suzy was there.

In front o her lay a large, familiar, leather bound Bible. She was choking as he read out the words “so be happy with your wife.” Behind her, with a hand on Suzy’s shoulder, stood the woman from the pub.