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"Where are you driving me?"
I parked the car in the corner of the lot.
"Look, we need to talk," I said.
He looked away. "About what?"
"I know your son died."
"Everyone does!"
"I also know what else you've been doing." His perpetually flushed face. The missing bottles. It wasn't very hard to notice.
He remained silent.
"Please don't tell-"
"I won't."
His voice lacked its usual sternness. It was probably the only time I heard him beg.
"Here." I handed him a bottle of wine. Full.
"Why? Didn't you just say-"
I interjected. "Drink it. It will be your last. For forever. Promise me."
"Alright." His voice sounded like he was about to cry. He took the bottle from my hands, unscrewed the cap, and drunk.
"You have a lot to face tomorrow. But for now, you have relief."
I could see his face relax. He leaned back against the headrest.
"Thank you so much for being my friend. For all these years. You're the one who put me on the straight and narrow."
I was about to cry too.
"No problem. I'll be with you till the very end." I held his hand.
"Thanks." He took another swig.
Seeing his eyes droop, and finally close, I waited. His breath was shallow, his hand warm to the touch. I closed my eyes too. I thought of the times we had together.
I didn't know how long I waited. Whether it was an hour, a minute, a day, I couldn't remember.
I took out my handkerchief and wiped his hand gingerly. I wiped the wheel and the handles too. I went out, and, closing the door with the tip of my shoe, I got a call.
"Done?" the voice asked.
"Yes." The finality of the word was not lost on me.
"We will release them shortly."
Like him, I knew how painful it was to lose a child.