I was at a bar, looking for something, but I wasn’t sure what it was.
So, to start, I followed my instincts. As I ordered a drink, a girl in the corner caught my attention. A guy was talking to her, but more like at her. Anyone could see that she was more interested in her cocktail and the exits. I went over and said hi, because when you’re looking for something, you might have to go where it isn’t safe.
It happened fast, and without violence this time. On account of it being him who had bought her the cocktail, he called her a ‘fucking bitch,’ and left. I’m not a detective or anything, but I suspected it wasn’t really about the cocktail. I did suspect that I was getting closer to my objective, like groping for a light switch in the dark.
“Thanks,” she said to me.
“No problem.”
“I owe you a favor.”
Her straw slurped around the ice.
“It’s cool,” I said, “no worries.”
Her hand touched mine.
“No, I have to. I’ll do anything. But just one thing.”
My move had to happen sooner rather than later. Apparently like seven beers had already been consumed by someone who may have been me, and for some reason there were empty shot glasses next to us.
“Ok.” I said, “I want you to answer a question for me.”
“I’m ready for you anytime,” she said.
They say this road is never an easy one.
“How can I find enlightenment?” I asked.
A face can go through many stages in an instant. From an initial recoil, she changed to cautious. Then she was coy. Then pensive.
I could feel through the thin fabric of her dress against my shirt. Electricity tingled at the back of my neck, just a moment before her lips brushed against my ear. This was her chance to ruin me, to send me straight back to where I started.
“Drink one million drops of water,” she said.
We stared.
I turned to the bartender.
“One drop of water please.”
He told me to fuck off.
So I did. I left the woman and that place behind without a second thought, with only her words stuck in my head. After some contemplation, I realized the situation still wasn’t exactly crystal clear, and I probably should’ve asked for some clarification. But then again, the universe wouldn’t be what it is if it wasn’t mysterious.
From then on, in all my free time, I followed what I perceived to be the simplest interpretation of these new instructions. With great care, I would get just one drop of water in a smooth glass. Then I tilted it, as it slid down into my mouth. At first, it was awkward, and I considered checking myself into a psych ward, but then it became second nature. I soon lost count of the drops. I figured I would know when it hit one million, because, obviously, enlightenment would hit me in the face like a hot pancake.
It had to be a secret. When my friends or family asked what I was doing in my spare time, I would say, “oh, you know, just super busy.” Some part of me didn’t want to let them in on it because I didn’t want them to catch on and become enlightened before I did. That would be bullshit.
For the longest time, I felt dejected, hopeless, and foolish. It was worse than before I had embarked upon this journey. Those drops of water began to feel like hammers. When I stayed up into the late hours of the night, delirious from lack of sleep, I could swear that each next drop would crush me. They would find my body next to an empty glass of water and never know what happened. But the pain was made somewhat bearable when I could surrender to the blind faith that I would reach salvation. It was better to be in agony and crawling upwards, I told myself, than in a painless bliss of falling into nothing.
One day, one of my roommates caught me in the act. I was in the kitchen with my tongue out, staring at the little pebble of water sliding down.
“What are you doing?”
I turned. The drop of water hit my cheek. There was no way out.
“Seeking enlightenment.”
…
“Oh. Sure. You know there’s more water in the fridge, right?” my roommate said.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
The gossip spread and soon everyone knew about my quest. But it turns out they all knew I was kind of batshit anyway so it wasn’t much of a development.
It was just a closeted pipe-dream before, but now it encompassed every moment of my waking life, whether in action or thought. But the more people I told, the more I began to worry. What if it didn’t work? Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I just kept on slurping. Drip drop.
Until I wound up back at that same bar again, where it all began. Years, lifetimes had passed since that day. Today I was early for a meeting with a friend.
Then I saw her.
She waved, so I approached. With caution.
“Hey, I remember you,” she said.
Words caught in my throat.
“Is everything ok?” she said.
“I’ve been doing it for years. I lost count, it’s been so long. I – “
She seemed confused.
“One million drops of water,” I said. “I don’t feel any different.”
“Oh, that?” She giggled.
Giggled.
“No, no, no, it’s like ancient Chinese or something, it doesn’t translate very well. It means more like, ‘drink a decent amount of water.’”
…
“Like, ‘stay hydrated,’ you know?”
…
I turned to the bartender.
“One drop of water please.”
He told me to fuck off.
