Eddie leans heavily on me as we make our way back to our rooms after a night of hitting the bars. Thankfully his drunken state doesn’t dull his sense of direction. I feel a little support is not unwarranted given his continued willingness to guide me around. I’ve been here at the hotel about six months now and once or twice I’ve managed to get where I was trying to go on my own, but the majority of the time, I am as lost as the day I arrived. It’s vexing.

We arrive at our doors with only a few stumbles and shouts to quiet it down and as drunk as Eddie is, I want to make sure he gets inside his room before heading to my own. Eddie fumbles about himself for a moment muttering ‘keys, keys, keys,’ under his breath and then starts laughing, turning his pockets inside out.

“Nope,” he exclaims, “don’t got ‘em!” His exaggerated ‘empty’ gesture tips the very drunk man off his balance and into me. I’ve gotten very used to Eddie’s lack of personal space, and I find myself unbothered by his head on my shoulder or his limp arms draped over mine for support. Unsurprisingly, His breath smells of alcohol and his clothes of cigar smoke. It’s not terrible, but it was not so invasive when the source was not so close to my nose. Still, the scent of his cigars has become as familiar as my own cologne.

“Did you have them with you when we left the bar?” I ask.

Eddie snorts and shakes his head against my shoulder, “No idea, man.”

“And you did check your coat pocket?”

Eddie staggers back, giving himself a pat down and comes up empty handed, “No keys.”

I look him over and ask a stupid question, “Do you think you can make it back downstairs?” The man is wobbly at best and getting him here was already no small effort. I might be able to make it back to the bar alone, the way was simple, but the more I think about it the fuzzier it gets, and there’s no guarantee that’s where he left his keys anyway.

Eddie appears to give my question considerable thought. Kind of him considering we both already know the answer. “No shot, man,” he finally announces, sinking down the wall next to his door, “not until I sleep this off.”

My mind quickly runs us through several scenarios, in none of which I leave the very drunk man alone on the floor of the hall. I heave a sigh, “Come on,” I haul him up, “Let’s go to my room and make some calls.”

“Good idea,” Eddie praises and tries to cooperate, though in his state his efforts actually make getting him across the hall all the more difficult.

Once inside my room, Eddie stands on his own for a moment and takes a look around, “Your room is-” he trails off and makes a sort of puff sound, never finishing what he was going to say.

 I aim Eddie for the couch, but he falls across my bed instead, letting out a pleased sigh as he sinks into my blankets.

“No, not the-” giving up as I see Eddie shimmy up and kick off his shoes. “I’ll call Elizabeth.”

“No!” he whines, “Not your girlfriend, it’s late, she’ll fuss at me!”

I roll my eyes at his favorite joke, “Elizabeth is not my girlfriend.” Honestly, his teasing is getting old.

“She’s all you ever want to talk about,” he grumbles under his breath.

Also, not true. But his earlier point was fair, it’s late, I’d rather not disturb her, “Do you recall the name of the bar you took us to?” I ask, “I can call them and see if they found your keys?”

“Yeah, sure,” he mumbles into my pillows, “It’s, uh, that one bar, with the big-” he makes a vague hand gesture and says nothing else.

“Eddie?” I prod him, “That is not enough information to get anywhere with the directory. Eddie?”

“Your pillows suck,” he grumbles.

“Yes,” I sigh, “I know. But focus, please.”

“I’m focused,” he mumbles back.

“What about some of your other friends?” I prod him again, “the ones we meet up with at the matches?” Eddie seems to know just about everyone, it is one of the things I admire about him.

“Who?”

I give up.

“At least take off that coat, I don’t want my bed smelling like cigars.”

Eddie wiggles in something like a ‘trying to remove his coat’ way, but he’s getting nowhere. I end up helping him with that too.

I’m grateful these shenanigans are happening with this younger, not quite dead, not quite alive, body. Because the older me would not have had the strength or energy for any of this. Even still, I’m exhausted. Every outing with Eddie is exhausting.

I’ve never done this before, tried so hard to form a friendship outside of social or financial gain. I don’t know if it’s working. Sure, I know more about the man than I did when we met in the elevator, but I knew a great deal of facts about my business associates. Are facts and frequent outings enough to make us proper friends?

I stare down at Eddie’s probably sleeping form and consider these questions. For one thing, I can surely say that none of my former associates would have been found, drunk or otherwise, in my bed. Taking people back to my room was generally out of the question. I’ve never liked others in my personal spaces. I’d have called them a cab and been done with it. Though I suppose the only reason I haven’t done that here is that it was never an option.

I shake my head of heavy thoughts and start to change for bed. I suppose my clothing choices have also been influenced by Eddie. Fine suits and ties don’t belong in the sort of bars and sporting events he likes to take us to, so when I’m not working with Elizabeth, I have taken to more casual choices, sweaters, polos, and the like. Eddie claims I’m still very ‘yuppy’ but for me, it has been a big change.

A well-made suit is like armor, deflecting many of the little social arrows others will direct at you. I like donning my armor, becoming the man that fits the image it gives me, it’s comforting.

A frantic knocking at my door interrupts my task. Eddie, who I’d thought was lost to the world, stirs and glares at the entrance.

The urgency of the knock has me answering it quickly despite my state of undress.

“Elizabeth?” I question upon seeing her. She’s got her hand still raised to knock again, no makeup drawn around her eyes or lips and her normally perfect hair is brushed out and frazzled.

“Isaiah,” she breathes around a sigh of relief, “I need your help.”

“Of course.” I answer without hesitation, my willingness to do anything she asks has only grown in the time I’ve known her. “What do you need?”

Elizabeth hesitates, biting her lips before answering me, “It’s a guest, Kernan Walsh. I’m not sure exactly what’s going on, a keeper told me to come deal with him or they would handle it.”

It was only once, but after having seen a situation escalate to that, I understand the hurry, “Lead the- Eddie.” I’ve still got a drunken squatter. I spin around to look at Eddie sprawled out on my bed.

“Go,” he waves a tired hand, “I’ll be fine.”

Elizabeth peeks around me incredulously, “Eddie?”

I feel a headache coming on, “Yes,” I answer her shortly, “but he’ll be fine.” At least this delay has reminded me I’m only half dressed. I grab my shirt back out of the wardrobe and hurry to follow her, but I find Elizabeth unmoving, still staring perplexed at Eddie’s back. “I’ll explain later.” I promise her.

“Right,” she shakes her head and takes my hand, “This way, quickly.”