Tomas didn’t quite remember what happened a few hours ago. All he knew was that he was in a small cottage, spending a few days off from work. He slowly opened his eyes, filled with discharge and groaned from the aches coming from his back. His vision felt heavy as if something inside of them were pressing the eyes down. A few cans of beer stood by the bedside table along with a half empty Zephyrhills water. The sun shone through the sandy curtains, lighting up the room. It hit Tomas where he least wanted it: his back. He stretched out his arms and legs as far as they could, feeling the sunburnt back sting him. He rolled over to the side of the bed and sat down, struggling to think on who or what got him to bed. He tried hard to remember the night. Fragments slowly surfaced: a white table set up on the sand with several cups, bottles of beer, whiskey, and vodka. He recalled sitting close to the stairs of the front porch, looking at the others trying to make the small beanbag, in a wild game of cornhole, into the hole of an inclined board. The sounds of the kitchen were heard outside the door: pots clanging, glasses clinking with each other, and the humming of the washing machine. The house was starting to wake up.
Tomas went out of his bedroom, wondering who was up washing at the kitchen. His vision tunneled in from the five shots of whiskey a few hours ago in the dark, early hours of Saturday morning. He climbed up the stairs and saw Frank washing a few glasses and plates on the dishwasher.
“Frankie,” Tomas said, funnily, confused on his early rise. “Why’re you up so early?”
Frank turned around. Bags sagged his eyes. He had his mouth open with drool dropping to the floor. “I couldn’t sleep anymore, man. I ask the same,” he said, mumbling.
“Cuz I need to drink—,” replied Tomas, walking, getting a glass over from the cupboard.
Just as he was about to get his hands on the glass, Frank blocked him off with his arm.
“Drink what? Whiskey,” he asked, suspiciously.
“A drink of water,” said Tomas, giving him a smirk. He sniffed the heavy scent of alcohol coming out of Frank’s mouth. “I highly suggest you do the same, Frank. We drank too much.”
Tomas walked over to the refrigerator and served himself water. It was refreshing for him to hold. He drank up, soaking the entirety of his mouth with the tongue no longer feeling like if it were sandpaper. The teeth were no longer dry, jagged bones. He passed his tongue over them, sliding across effortlessly, and sighed heavily at the relief that he no longer felt the dried unpleasantness inside. He looked over to Frank, who held a half a can of Heineken beer on his hand. His thoughts flared up, telling him that drinking first thing in the morning wasn’t the best choice.
“Yo, Frank. Gimme the beer can. You need to drink water,” he said, raising his tone with urgency as he walked up to him. “It is not good to go for the beer.”
“What’d you mean? We haven’t finished the cornhole game for the bet of three-hundred dollars, remember,” implied Frank.
Tomas rugged his face, confused at what Frank meant by the cornhole game and a three-hundred-dollar bet. He looked over to his right towards the ceiling, trying hard to remember. “Cornhole and a bet of three-hundred.”
“Yes. Remember? You drank those five shots of whiskey and Daniel was out there drinking as well, trying to keep the score while you and I battled it out,” said Frank.
“Ah, yes,” shouted Tomas, remembering a little bit more of the dark hours of Saturday morning. “Now I remember. Yes, we threw beanbags to inclined boards.”
There was a brief pause in between them until Tomas interrupted. “Who won?”
“No one,” yelled Frank, spreading his arms out. “We have to keep on playing right now.”
“Right now? No, not right now. We just got out of bed,” replied Tomas.
A door to the far right of Tomas, close to the kitchen table, flung open, banging the wall. Daniel came out with his hair scattered in different directions. He wore a white shirt and tilted sweatpants, revealing a bit his underwear. Sweat came down from his dampened forehead.
“Guys, I was trying to go to sleep, but one of you two yelled just now. Who was it,” he said, rushing straight to the cupboard, getting a glass, and serving himself water.
Tomas pointed briefly to Frank. “It was him. The guy’s breath smells heavily.”
Daniel took a sip and held out the glass in front of Frank, shaking it to draw his attention. Frank grabbed it, placing the beer can on the counter. He still didn’t drink the water and kept his sunken eyes directly at the two.
“Drink the water, Frankie. Don’t you dare open another can,” recommended Daniel, keeping his eyes fixated on him.
Frank, with the glass of water on hand, walked past both and went down the two stairs, leading to the small living room.
“Where do you think you’re going” asked Tomas, sketchy of what Frank was up to.
“Outside to get some fresh air,” replied Frank, opening the front door, heading outside.
Tomas proceeded to get a banana from the fruit bowl and took out from the food pantry a jar of peanut butter. He opened a drawer for a knife, opened the jar, and started spreading peanut butter on the banana. As he ate, he started thinking on how it was just the second day of a five-day vacation he and his two other friends planned out. He was exhausted from the eight-hour workday at his job as a receptionist and requested five days off to rent out a small cottage at a secluded resort, close to the bay at Key Largo, to get away from the city.
“What should I do today,” he thought. His eyes looked at the ceiling.
Daniel leaned over the counter, scrolling on his iPhone at the pictures taken in the night. He clicked on one, showing he and Tomas raising their cans while Frankie was in the background, chugging down what remained of the whiskey bottle.
“He shouldn’t drink for a few days,” said Daniel, showing the picture to Tomas. “This could cause him to faint.”
Tomas finished his banana, throwing the peel in the trash under the sink. He stood to Daniel’s side, looking at the picture of Frankie drinking what remained of the whiskey. He widened his eyes at what Frankie was holding on the other hand: a beer. “I’m gonna go talk to him about this.”
Tomas dashed down the two stairs, heading outside the front door. The fresh breeze, filled with the smell of the ocean water and humidity, blew past his face. He set his exhausted eyes upon the mess that they left. A white table dawned. It was filled with bottles of beer, rum, and whiskey. White, red, and blue cornhole beanbags were bunched together on the surface, close to the table. A bit ahead laid an incline board with a hole. In the distance, a lone man stood near the end of the dock with a fishing rod out at sea. Five seagulls gathered around an area of the terrain, close to the dock, picking out breadcrumbs from the sand. Five kayaks hung on their storage, near a small house where the bathrooms were. Tomas took a few seconds to breathe in the air around him, thoughts simmering in his mind of not being in the city nor in rush hour. Then, he heard gulping near him. Frankie was sitting on a white chair with the empty glass on the table. He had his head on it, sleeping.
“Ah, good lord. He fell asleep,” he thought to himself, relieved that Frank didn’t go to scout for another can. He picked up the glass and, as he did, Frank blasted his arm out, grabbing Tomas firmly. “Frank? Frank, this isn’t funny. What’s up?”
Frank tilted his head upward until keeping his exhausted gaze at Tomas. The bags under his eyes were more pronounced than when Tomas found him at the kitchen. “Say. D-d-do you want to finish the game,” he asked, his speech slurred, grinning.
Tomas rolled his eyes, bothered by the request. This was not how he wanted to start the day: drinking. If this were to be the tone for the vacation — drinking and getting drunk — then it wouldn’t be his type of settling down away from the city and a boresome job. He knew that he was here at Key Largo to wind down and recharge. Deep down, he didn’t want to drink anymore, knowing he wouldn’t want to feel the spins nor the effects of a hangover after a heavy night, though wanted the three-hundred dollar bet.
“I’ll think about it for a little. Let me head inside to get a breather,” said Tomas. He past Frank and headed back inside.
Tomas entered and saw Daniel sitting alone at the kitchen table. He was enjoying a plate of two fried eggs, sunny side up, a side of bacons, and two toasts. A glass full of orange juice was served to his side. It made Tomas hungry every time he took in the smell of the recently cooked breakfast. His mouth started to water at the sight of it. He sat on one of the chairs, offering Daniel company as he finished up. Tomas then turned over to window, drawing the curtain, and looked out to the front porch, seeing Frank still sleeping down on the chair outside.
“He is wiped out. Good,” said Tomas, quietly.
“How’s he handling the whole drinking from the night,” asked Daniel, with crumbs of toast on his lips.
“A little bit out of control. He says that he wants to finish the three-hundred-dollar bet. I do too but just look at him.” Tomas pointed to Frankie outside. Both were looking at him, analyzing his behavior. “Drunk, slurry, and indecisive. You think we would want to risk his health?”
Daniel had his mouth full as he continued finishing up his plate. The yellow yolk of the eggs tainted down his chin. “No, dude. I’m against that completely. I mean, his health is of utmost concern. Speaking about health, where did we leave the cooler last night? I wouldn’t want him to open the cooler.”
Where did they leave it? That was the question on both of their minds. Tomas slowly felt an inner heat steaming him up. The veins in his arms protruded from his skin. His breathing quickened at the thought on where the cooler was. He turned over to the window to see if it was close to the stairs outside. He carefully observed. The board was there, along with the beanbags mounted on top of each other on the sand, and the white table with the bottles of alcohol and beer cans on it. He looked out towards the table, close to the door. Frank disappeared.
“Shit,” yelled Tomas, suddenly. He quickly got up from the table and dashed down the two stairs frantically.
Daniel was confused at what was happening. “Yo, Tom, what happened?”
“Frankie is not at the table where he was sitting,” replied Tomas, raising his voice gravely.
Daniel got up as well, taking with him a piece of toast he was finishing.
The two young men headed out the door and looked up ahead to where the kayak rack was, the small house that had a men and women’s bathroom, and the dock that gave view to the bay. Tomas looked over to the parking lot on the left, seeing the Chevrolet pickup truck that he and the other two came on. No sight of Frank near it. Then, just below the porch, sounds that resembled someone gulping was heard. Tomas and Daniel walked over to the railing and leaned over it to see what was going on below. Of course, they’d forget on where the cooler was since both had a hectic night. They caught sight of Frank below them, near the cooler, which was somehow stocked underneath the porch. He was drinking another cool can of Heineken to the horror of Tomas and Daniel.
“Who in the world would hide that cooler under the easiest hiding spot, especially for Frankie,” thought Tomas, scratching his head, until something came up. His face lit up as if he realized something big. A memory popped into his head: Frank and Daniel were throwing the beanbags, trying to get them into the board. The person, whose view he was experiencing, was sliding a cooler on the sand, pushing it into the porch in which he and Daniel were standing on. Tomas lowered his head down, putting each hand on the ears, upset at what was happening in front of his eyes. “Shit, shit, shit. This is all my fault.”
“What,” shouted Daniel, slowly realizing it all. “Don’t tell me you were the one who placed it under.”
“Well, I didn’t know anything about Frankie not knowing where the cooler was,” he yelled back, running fast down the stairs.
Frank sat down on the cooler with a Heineken in hand. He burped, emptying out the gas in his stomach. “Put it down,” said someone right next to him firmly, slowly.
Tomas stood glaring at Frank. Anger slowly consumed him. He couldn’t bear watching Frank’s ignorance of binge drinking. He clenched his hands hard, with the edge of the nails burrowing down on the muscles of his palms. The ninety-degree hot sun burned down on them, making Tomas sweat heavily. In just a short amount of time, he became a fountain of sweat with his face watering down. His shirt became drenched, raining down drops of sweat ontto the sand, sucking it completely. Frank bent over, struggling to catch his breath. He didn’t let go of the can; instead, placing it on his forehead, letting it cool down his body temperature. His head felt heavy and throbbed intensely.
“Le’ settle the sco’,” announced Frank, slurring badly. He stood up, trembling severely. His legs shook a lot while standing up and looked to Tomas.
Tomas saw the pale color whitening Frank. He urgently went over to the cooler, opened it, and grabbed a cold bottle of water. He poured it on top of Frank, trying to cool him down. “Frankie, we shouldn’t be doing this. Look at yourself.” Another lightbulb went off inside his head. “Look at me.”
Frank, for a moment, stood still, not walking off balance from the amount of alcohol consumed. He found himself in control for a little as he stared into Tomas’s eyes amidst the flashes of light his eyes were emitting, bothering him. He tried his hardest to give off a smile, but felt his mouth numbed. Tomas got a hold of him as he was trying to keep his balance.
“Daniel, help me out here,” Tomas demanded. Daniel dashed down the stairs of the porch and grabbed Frank from behind. “Frank, we need you to say something. Anything for us to know that you can at say something that’s common sense.”
Frank huffed and puffed, gasping for breath until he inhaled normally. He then said slowly, “G-guys, I want… to apologize for… my reckless behavior.” Gathering his thoughts, he continued, “All I wanted was to lower my inhibitions that I’m struggling to get over, but I realized just now that this isn’t going as I thought.” His voice grew raspier as he struggled to breathe.
Both Tomas and Daniel struggled to keep Frank on his legs. The sun intensified, burning their foreheads. “So, what’re you going to do about the three-hundred dollar bet, Frankie? Is it still up for grabs,” asked Tomas, gently, keeping in mind of Frank’s exhaustion.
“Take it. The bet right now isn’t that important for me now,” declared Frank, slowly kneeling to the sand. “I need… the bed.”
Frank collapsed on the sand. Tomas and Daniel tried to wake him up, but to no avail. Tomas felt his heart race, thumping out of his chest. His movements became stiff, rapid, thinking on what to do. Daniel stood by Frank’s body, shaking him to wake up.
“It’s no use. Call the paramedics, asap,” yelled Daniel. “Go! Get your phone!”
The blue skies shifted. A pair of ominous dark clouds formed in the horizon, blocking out the sun. The wind picked up its pace, becoming a calming breeze to a windy, raging storm. Soon, the raindrops began to drop, intensifying as the minutes passed with every second. The whole sandy terrain became splotched with rain marks, struggling to swallow the water coming from the heavens. The rain showered onto the fainted body of Frank, staining his shirt, soaking it completely.
Tomas made a run up the stairs frantically, entered the main door, and grabbed his phone on the beside table in the bedroom. He tapped on the screen, marking the numbers, 911, quickly.
The phone rung. Tomas was too desperate for someone to pick up.
“911, what’s your emergency,” the dispatcher said over the phone.
“Can you send the paramedics over to the Largo Resort? I have a downed friend who is laying on the ground, outside on the sand, and he is not responding well,” he said, wrestling with the fact on how much information he needed to share with the dispatcher.
“Ok, is he breathing at all,” asked the dispatcher.
Tomas tried to keep his frustration at bay. The drops of sweat streamed down his forehead. He passed his hand on the forehead, wiping the sweat away. “No, no, he is not breathing. Just please bring the paramedics before its too late. Thank you.” He hung up and raced out of his room, heading outside to where Daniel was with Frank, breathing slowly, laying on the ground, and having a water bottle to the side.
“They’re on their way,” said Tomas, gasping. “They should be here in a few.”
He looked at Frank, whose face was pale as snow. “Don’t worry, Frankie. They’ll be here in a little. Just two block away from here. You’ll make it,” he assured, holding one hand. Tomas felt Frank’s fingers shaking a little. His breathing became exaggerated as he struggled to breathe.
“Wa-water,” he urged. Daniel grabbed the bottle on the side and gave it to him.
Frank opened it up and started drinking it. He swallowed and moaned at the same time out of enjoyment, feeling his mouth cool. All the three had rain streaming down on their faces. A strong breeze blew by, blowing away all the empty bottles and cans of alcohol from the white table. Rain came down on the table, washing it clean. Tomas looked to where the cooler was under the porch.
“Daniel, let’s try to move him under the porch in order for him to stay dry.”
“OK. I’ll grab him from this side. You grab him from the other,” he replied.
Both grabbed Frank from behind. They put their arms under his armpits and lifted him up a little, dragging him on the sand all the way to the porch.
“Here. Let’s set him down here,” said Tomas. They set Frank down close to the cooler. Frank saw it and looked away.
“Keep that cooler away from me,” he said.
Daniel grinned, hearing what Frank said about the alcohol being bad for him. “Well, I’m happy you said that. Try abstaining from it.”
The rain intensified as the blue skies were shut out by the dark clouds. The light posts near the parking lot turned on. Fog from the rain blanketed the whole resort. The kayaks on the rack were barely visible nor the dock that had the overview of the bay. The branches of the palm trees rustled hard, trying to free themselves from the main branch. Amidst the raging storm, sirens were heard in the distance. Tomas raised his head, wondering if it were the paramedics. Daniel kept patting Frank on the back to keep him awake. The sirens came even closer to their direction. Tomas got out of the porch and started dashing to the gate.
“Tom, what’re you doing? Get back here,” yelled Daniel. Tomas kept running, eventually turning his head over to him.
“Don’t you hear!? The paramedics are here,” he yelled back.
Tomas stood in front of the gate. Just outside of the resort’s entrance, in the rainy blanket of the storm, bunches of flashing blue, yellow, and red lights, switching and spinning quickly came closer. The siren of the ambulance van grew louder as it drew near Tomas and the gate. It bothered Tomas in the eyes, prompting him to blink and rub them to alleviate the weighing sensitivity.
“Open the gate,” a voice called out from the radio.
Tomas walked over to the side of the gate. He touched a green button on a keypad, letting the gate open, slowly allowing the ambulance come in. The paramedics at once parked on the driveway and a pair of four paramedics came out of the van with equipment in hand. Tomas ran behind them, making their way over to Daniel and Frank.
“Check his breathing.”
“Check his heart rate. We must make sure its normal.”
“Pass me the oxygen mask. His breathing is rattled.”
The paramedics worked around the clock. All that Tomas and Daniel could do was watch what their friend was going through helplessly. Minutes passed until a paramedic came over to them. He had a gloomy, serious look in his eyes. Both boys held their impatience, wanting to know if Frank was in serious condition. The paramedic looked to the ground before looking at them both, holding his composure.
“Are you this young man’s friends,” he asked.
“Yes,” both replied, simultaneously.
“What did he drink a few hours ago?”
“We told him many times to stop with the drinking since we woke up.”
The paramedic was surprised. “Wait? You three haven’t stopped drinking since when? The early hours of Saturday morning? 1AM or 2AM?”
“Mmhm,” murmured Tomas.
“We did, but our friend went on,” added Daniel.
The paramedic looked over to the sky in thought. He pressed his lips. “That explains everything. Well, your friend is going to be okay, but he does have heat stroke plus a severe alcohol intoxication. My colleagues are placing him on the ambulance bed, and we are taking him to the hospital for further examination.” He then walked away, stepping into the van as the other paramedics rushed Frank over to the hospital, leaving the resort and the two.
Tomas and Daniel stood a few feet away from the gate, staring out into the road, watching the ambulance driving away until it became a speck in the distance. Daniel placed his arm around Tomas’s back, comforting him. The rain clouds moved slowly away from the resort, revealing a speck of sunlight hiding behind. It shined across the terrain, scattered over the bay, glistening the water. Tomas looked up at the revealing sun, giving him a glimpse of hope inside. Something told him that Frank was going to be alright and that he’ll be well cared for to see him soon enough.
“We saved our friend, Daniel. That’s what matters more than the three-hundred dollar bet.”