Cabin Fever III

When the Spaniard wasn’t hired out he spent his days by the brothel or watching the gambling tables. He never played but he would always sit there watching the tables keeping a close eye on every card dealt. More than once a loser tried cursing him out of the gambling room yelling, “That fuckin spick’s bad luck, every time he sits watchin all my paint an’ makin eyes at all y’alls, it’s no wonder I been losin.’” The Spaniard would just sit there emotionless, continuing as he had been. No one ever defended him, cause no one really cared much. Everyone seemed to feel the same as I did about him. And to tell the truth he was a bit of a spook. His eyes were constantly dilated until you couldn't see any color in them except for the murky yellow sea his dark black eyes sank into. Still, Maggie was convinced he had a good heart. And he wasn’t all bad, he out drank me anyways.

One day I was sitting watching the boys playing cards and the Spaniard was sitting across from me taking slow pulls on a bottle of what I assumed was tequila. When I got myself a Tennessee Bourbon he stared at me for a moment and then set down his bottle and motioned for Joseph to bring him what I had. He took up the glass and showed the bottoms of his yellow teeth as he glanced over at me to see if I was watching, then drank the glass down. I typically took my whiskey slow when I was drinking it clean and I don’t know why but I picked up my glass and put it down in two harsh swallows, I continued to watch the game without looking back at the Spaniard for a minute to appear unconscious of my actions. When I looked back over to him, his glass was full again and he was holding it with both hands while blankly watching the cards. Joseph came over silently and whispered if I’d like another, and that's how it began. He even left our glasses on the table so he could keep count. Occasionally I would glance over and catch the Spaniard checking to see what number I was at. I wish I remembered more from that night and had seen more of that poker game because I was later told that the boys from the mountain had done quite well. I had drank at least 11 glasses of whiskey which is more whiskey than I had ever had in the space of two hours. When I went to pay my tab that next night, Joseph told me it had already been taken care of and that was the last I saw of the Spaniard for some time.