Nurse the Hate: A Scotch Man

He had switched from scotch to rum the previous winter. He had always been a scotch man until an unfortunate evening had him re-examine his relationship with Scotch.  His face still burned when he thought of it.  He had been permanently expelled from the best restaurant in the city after a shouting match and a thrown glass.  God, he missed that place.  Oak paneling. Leather chairs. Best steak in the city.  If the restaurant had not been so good he might’ve taking a perverse pride in being 86’d in such a public fashion. However, it was the highest profile spot in the city and it was now common knowledge he was not welcome.  It was the end of an era.

His mother had always been a scotch drinker. She had been addicted to literature. Her favorite writers were scotch drinkers, old British writers that were always clever in print but lived notoriously difficult lives.  She spent most evenings not paying attention to the family while sipping J&B, reading old books she had rescued from second hand shops.  “White trash drinks whiskey.  Gentlemen drink scotch.”, she was fond of saying.  She was a woman with an almost photographic memory of favorite literary passages and could drink like a sailor.  He missed her.    

He had moved on from the scotch shortly after the restaurant incident.  He took the advice of a young woman in the weeks he spent brooding after his dismissal from society. “Scotch always makes me cry” she said. “I don’t want to cry anymore.”  She was a very melancholy yet practical woman.  She offered him a sip of a Pilar Rum.  Bingo.  It was then he embraced dark rums with new found enthusiasm.  He liked how they conjured the sunshine of their island birth place.  Rum reminded him of burying his feet in warm sand while on beach vacations, though to be completely honest, he usually had an awful time on such trips.  His pale skin burned easily and he became hopelessly bored within hours after arriving at a resort.  Still, the idea of rum was good.  

He took to having a tumbler of dark island rum right before bed to help him sleep without dreaming.  He would stand naked in his darkened apartment in front of the large picture window that looked out on the city and feel the chill against his skin.  The rum always made his mind drift to travel.  Trinidad.  Tahiti.  Hong Kong.  Shanghai.  Melbourne.  Dublin.  Edinburgh.  Hmmm...  Edinburgh.  It would be good to try some scotch in Edinburgh…   

   

He sipped his rum.