DRINKING BUDDIES

Note: This is a follow-up to “Encounter,” which will provide some background, but I don’t think you necessarily have to read it to be able to follow this. The piece begins post-island. Several of the survivors have been put up in a California hotel for two weeks, courtesy of Oceanic airlines.

Part I

After Sayid had secured his key card from the clerk, he walked past the hotel bar toward the elevators. Before he could get by, however, he heard Sawyer call out to him, and he glanced over to see that the cowboy was keeping company with Jack and Locke. Sayid looked around, and, when he didn’t see any reporters, he joined their row along the bar.

“The hotel manager ridded us of the paparazzi,” Locke explained quietly before taking a slow sip of an amber liquid. He seemed even more serious when he was inebriated.

Jack appeared quiet and solemn, but whether it was drink that made him so or the knowledge that Kate was by now in prison, Sayid did not know.

Sawyer, on the other hand, was loud, and his southern drawl was more pronounced than usual as he asked Sayid, “What are you drinking?”

“I do not drink,” the Iraqi answered.

“Oh, yeah,” Sawyer said. “It’s against your religion, ain’t it?”

“I do not really…it is not because of that. I merely dislike not being in control of myself.”

Sawyer laughed. “I’ll bet you do. I’ll bet you do.” He raised his hand to beckon the bartender. “Get this A-rab a shot of Jack Daniels.”

The bartender heeded the Southerner’s order, but Sayid did not touch the proffered drink. Instead, he lazily traced the pattern in the wood of the bar. The silence that fell among them now was not uncomfortable; these men were the closest thing to a family Sayid had left. That was true for all of them; they all felt it, even Sawyer—Sawyer perhaps most of all, though he would have been the last to admit it.

This family, too, however, would soon enough dissolve. Oceanic had provided them with hotel rooms for two weeks while they re-acclimated to society and decided their future courses. Locke and Jack would likely return to their former professions. Whether Sawyer would move on to something more legitimate was uncertain. Sayid would have to start making his own plans soon.

Sawyer ruptured the quiet by half-shouting, “So, did you give your interview to that pretty reporter?”

“Pardon?” Sayid replied.

“The one I saw chasing you across the airport after you and the Koreans cut and ran. Dark hair. Nothing like the swimsuit model you had on the island, but not bad to look at.”

Sayid let Sawyer’s insensitive comment slip. The man was drunk, after all, and the raw materials were uncouth enough to begin with. “Nadia? She is not a reporter,” he said. “She is an old friend.”

Sawyer’s face widened into a mocking grin. “Yeah? Why didn’t you bring her back to the hotel? Hell, I would have.”

Locke now glanced down the bar in their direction. Jack still stared vacantly into his drink.

“None of us has got much left in this world after that island,” Sawyer continued. “It’d be nice to at least have a woman.”

Sayid drew out his wallet, paid for the drink he had not touched, and left a generous tip. He nodded to the trio and rose from the bar stool.

“Hey, Casanova,” Sawyer called after him as he made his way to the elevator. “Got her number? Mind if I call?”