Ethyl, my friend (?)

Ethyl does sound good.

Like “emblematic” or “scientific”.

Much better than alcoholic anyway.

It’s almost as pretty as paracetamol or even miscellaneous from the Anglo-Saxon’ point of view. Anyway, it is more digestible than ethanol which has consequences far most serious when ingested.

Ethyl is a nice name… That can take many sympathetic forms.

A glass of scotch to celebrate a contract with the big boss.

A bottle of white wine with a plate of seafood on the seaside with a lover.

A bottle of dark, bloody, red wine in north Africa during a holiday.

A bottle of rum for a Ti-Punch near the swimming-pool, in Martinique.

A bottle of vodka for a Bloody Mary in the land of the Apalaches.

A bottle of champagne to party !

So many memories.

More or less good.

Depending…

I started our love affair, Ethyl, with returning empty bottles for my mother. A drunkard offered me the staggering sum of a quarter to have the right to put a kiss on my well-nourished little girl cheek. Back home, I told Mom who slapped me and treated me as if I was irreparably tarnished. That evening I almost ate the entire spinach dish, because my mother had told me that the iron in it helped to renew the blood. Thus, I hoped to get regenerated !

At 15, I would often go to the supermarket to pick up, for Mom again, some bottles of scotch. I did not realize that the cold of the following day, that would keep her in bed all day, was due to it.

At 17, I owe you, my friend Ethyl, one of the biggest fights ever registered on the banks of the Ardèche river. From the top of a bridge I was admiring my job when a nice accomplice came to me and asked me what how I felt about being such an efficient agitator.

Some time later, while I getting language practice in the German part of Switzerland ; not only happy to become skilled in the ingestion of different variety of tasty cocktails, I quickly learned, in my temporary job as a waitress, that the double scotch was of better yield and I would use and abuse of my success to fill up my nest egg through all the glasses of different things that were offered to me.

Our love story has lasted a long time, Ethyl. And I owe you more than I can repay for your help in many occasions.

Without you, I would not have lived my most beautiful parties.

I would not have dared my most brilliant achievements.

I would not have survived my greatest sorrows.

One day, Ethyl, you betrayed me.

From one day to the other you became my worst enemy.

Our honeymoon was over.

And my hell began.

I needed you more and more often.

And yet, when you were there, you messed up everything.

No longer did I want to celebrate.

I didn’t know how to dance anymore.

I didn’t like to work anymore.

If you came with me, at the beginning everything was fine, then suddenly I wanted to sleep.

On the next day, I had forgotten everything.

I said stupidities and made a fool out of myself.

I cried all the time.

I was never satisfied anymore, nor happy, nor joyful.

So often during this time did I try to leave you.

Thousands of times I broke up, thousands of times you came back.

I wandered from failure to failure.

There was nothing to do.

Each time you reappeared where I did not expect you.

Tenacious and unavoidable.

Not a meeting without your presence.

No family gathering.

No evening with friends.

A communion, a baptism, a burial.

Every time and everywhere you where there.

You made me lose friends who refused to come if you were not there.

I even stole you and got dishonest in order to get you.

I took pointless risks.

I could have killed somebody.

Because of you.

So, when I saw, finally lucid, in the midst of all the horrible extent of my desperation, how deep down I had fallen, I decided to be up with you once and for all.

And since I could not eliminate you, I would eliminate me. And believe me, I put all the chances on my side.

It’s a miracle that it didn’t work.

Just like you, God is everywhere.

Thus, looking down the abyss,

He gave me a hand.

He gave me the strength to climb up,

He gave me my dignity back.

Slowly, painfully, sorrowfully.

And what I thought was unthinkable, became possible, without even missing you.

Living, loving, dancing… I go over the details.

These are aspects of my life in which you have no more access granted.

Today, Ethyl, I cross your life very often, along the way. So long after our breaking up, it happens that you try yet, one last time, to tempt me. Sometimes I smell your scent, just for a remembrance, then I answer : « no, thank you » with an accomplice glance, I think in silence « without rancor »…

… and I go back to my writing.