Ferret had been drinking earnestly since last night. I watched him carefully for signs of being drunk. There was a swagger in his step. His voice was slurred. He was loud, boisterous, and foolhardy.
"Just how much have you had to drink?" I finally asked him.
"Dat nigga sho can drink!" Big S chimed in, laughing, as I said that.
"I had a twelve pack of ice beer last night and one during this morning's storm," Ferret told me.
"Jesus," I muttered.
Ferret slinked off towards the convenience store to buy a pack of cigarettes. Big S began to ask me about Kevin, the homeless guy. Big S is fascinated that I have an online life revolving around blogs. I told him Kevin was still doing the same crazy shit he has always done, but he is doing nothing to get out of homelessness. Most of his time is being spent in the downtown library blogging and putting out little Internet fires that result from his blog.
My hunger got the best of me around lunch. I shook Big S's hand and got in my car to drive home. Usually, I would be over concerned about Ferret and his drinking, but I came to a conclusion this morning -- that I can't be his protector and keeper. He is a grown man full aware of what his is doing. That realization felt good and freeing. Not that I don't care for my friend. I just can't change him for the better. Only he can do that.