BooksBarbecue
Back At Dawn
Chapters (39)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
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  39. Copyright

I followed him up and found, atop his dining room table, a wooden crate with its lid pried off. Inside the crate lay three bottles wrapped in tissue paper. Out of the box stood the fourth, divested of its wrapping to reveal a green bottle with a simple white label written in French. Gene picked it up and carefully held the neck with one hand while the other cupped the bottom as though it was a delicate newborn.

“You know what this is?”

“Not a clue,” I said. “I can’t read French.”

“Real absinthe, made with grande wormwood, unlike the American shit they’re now selling as ‘absinthe.’”

I perked up. “You’re shitting me? How in the hell did you get real absinthe?”

“Had it shipped from France.”

“Is that legal?”

“Hell no, it’s not legal. But they made it here, so who cares.”

I smiled in the manner of a man about to be privy to one of life’s great mysteries, a mystery that, until then, had completely confounded him.

“Well are we going to drink it, or what?” I asked.

“That’s the spirit,” he said. “I was hoping I wouldn’t go it alone.”

He grabbed two glasses that were bulged at the bottom, a flat, slotted spoon, several sugar cubes, and a bottle of Perrier. He laid the spoon across the mouth of the glass and placed a sugar cube in its middle. Then he slowly poured absinthe over the cube until it completely dissolved and the bulge of the glass was filled. The absinthe was light green. He filled the rest of the glass with Perrier, about three times the amount of absinthe. The liquid turned to a milky white. He handed me the glass and then made his own, pouring in more absinthe and less water.

“I’ve always wanted to try this,” I said.

“I thought you might appreciate it. Well, here goes nothing.”

We clinked glasses. It was extremely cool and refreshing, slightly bitter, tasting of black licorice. With that first drink came the slight dizziness you sometimes get with the first gulp of anything alcoholic.

“Whatcha think?” Gene asked.

“Not bad,” I said. “Not too bad at all. Can’t say it’s necessarily what I expected, but I like it.”

“Wait till you’ve had a few glasses.”

“I will.”

“Just don’t start hugging me.”

“I make no promises, my friend.”