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The old ones tell me it was easy in the old days to get a drink, to say that you were old when you were young. Back then the famous and the not-so famous could even say they were young when they were really very old. Nobody knew. It was so easy back then.

But now it’s not so easy, because the government knows exactly how old everyone is.

   For instance, it was just one month ago that sixteen-year-old Jack tried to pass for nineteen because he wanted a bottle of Green Water. He went to a shop in a neighborhood on the other side of the city where no one knew him and he entered the shop and browsed knowledgeably before pointing to the 750 milliliter bottle of Green Water. The clerk grabbed the bottle and rang up the order and asked Jack for 53 dollars, which is what the price came to with tax, and then the clerk asked Jack for documents.

“Sorry,” the clerk said apologetically. “I have to ask. It’s the law.”

The clerk was a young woman certainly not much older than Jack. She was about the same height as Jack, slender, pale, with dark lashes over deep azure eyes and long blond hair that stretched behind her shoulders.

Jack wore a business suit of his father’s because he wanted to look old enough that he would not be asked for documents. The dark suit was just a little large on Jack’s scrawny pimply frame, the sleeves just a little too long and the trousers a bit baggy, especially in the seat. He had brushed his jet black hair to the side, with a part down the left side, just like his father’s hair, and he had carried one of his father’s old leather briefcases to look as if he had just spent the day in an office doing important work. Jack polished his black shoes before riding the subway across town to the neighborhood where he was unknown.

“I’m sorry,” the beautiful clerk said, smiling gently, kindly. “It’s just the rule. I’ve got to ask.”

Jack tightened his hands to keep them from shaking and in the shortest of moments he considered his options. He could show her his fake documents and hope the programming was correct. He could apologize, say he forgot his documents, and hope she would sell him the drink and not turn him in for going out without documents. He could say he changed his mind and didn’t want the drink after all. He could run out quickly without saying a word. He could lean across the counter and kiss her. She had the face of an angel.

He smiled and said, “Yes, of course, I know the rules,” and he unzipped the briefcase and reached in for the wallet with his fake documents. He pulled the wallet out of the bag and pulled the forged plastic card from the wallet and held it in his hands. He still had options. He could hand it to her, say he changed his mind, he could run out of the store, or he could kiss her.

Jack handed her the plastic card and she read the dates and saw that the dates were acceptable and that he was the person in the photo and she smiled.

“Our birthdays are very close,” she said.

Jack returned the smile. “Oh really,” he said. “When were you born?”

“The twenty-fourth.”

“How about that,” Jack said.

“Were you born in the city hospital?” the clerk asked.

“Yes, I was,” Jack answered.

“Then we must have spent time in hospital together,” the clerk said. “We must have spent time very near each other nineteen years ago.” She smiled. “And we haven’t seen each other since. Isn’t that something?”

“Yes,” Jack said. “Childhood neighbors reunited.”

“Yes.”

They gazed into each other’s eyes briefly and then she turned to the document terminal behind the counter.

“This will just take a moment,” she said.

Jack still had options. He could shout to her before she slid the card through the machine that he had changed his mind. He could run out of the store immediately, before the computer cross-checked his documents.  Or, he could do nothing, hope the card worked, and wait for her to return to the counter. Then he could kiss her.

Jack stood at the counter, held his breath as the card slipped through the machine. He could not see the tiny readout screen that the clerk watched but he would know soon enough if the fake documents that his older brother had purchased for seventy-five dollars would work.

She wore a white blouse and black skin-tight pants and she looked magnificent from behind. Her blond hair stretched midway down her strong back and she had long slender fingers that rested near the document terminal. She turned around and walked back to the counter.

“Okay,” she said.

What did this mean? What had she seen in the little screen hidden by her long thin body? What buttons had she pressed that told the central computer something about this Jack Bellyitch who wanted to purchase a large bottle of Green Water? Had the card worked? Had he passed the state’s test, or were the police speeding quickly to the store.

“Fifty-three dollars,” she said, and Jack dug fifty-five dollars from his wallet.

“Fifty-three out of fifty-five,” she said. “That’s two dollars change,” and the cash register popped open and she pulled two one-ingot bills out and handed them to him.

Jack was about to turn from the counter with his bottle, wrapped in a brown bag, when she asked,”Are you going to drink that all by yourself?”

She was stalling. This tempting sweet goddess was stalling him. Did she wish to keep him there to talk, to meet him? Did she hope for an invitation to lunch, or an invitation to share the sweet narcotic? Or was she giving the authorities the chance they needed to apprehend the document forger? What was that glint in her eye?

Jack had options. He could ignore her and leave the store. Or he could stop and talk, and kiss her and risk arrest when the police arrived. Something told him the authorities were on their way.

“No,” he answered, “I plan to share it.”

“Who with?”

“Someone special.”

“A sweetheart?”

“Perhaps.”

“You have a sweetheart then?”

“No, I do not.”

“Neither do I.”

“Would you like to share the Green Water with me?” Jack asked.

“Yes,” she said. ” I would like that,” and she stretched across the counter and kissed Jack on the lips. Her lips were hot and soft.

“Meet me back here in an hour.” she said. “That’s when I get off work.”

“Yes,” he said. “I’ll meet you,” and he walked out the store and walked the streets of the strange neighborhood wondering if she had set a trap or was sincere. He went over his options but could not stop thinking about sitting under a tree in the park, drinking the bottle of Green Water with this sensuous 19-year-old beauty, floating on the grass with her when they were completely intoxicated, and he wondered if they would find a place to make love or if they would try to make love in the park. He wondered if they would get married. He wondered if they would have children. He wondered if she was the one. What was her name?

Getting a drink didn’t used to be so difficult, and it was not so important. It was just a drink.  But times have changed. The drink has changed. Everyone wants it, but it’s so difficult to get. It’s so expensive. It’s so strong. It hurts when it goes down, but then it feels good, like warm milk. It hurts again, but then you want more. You want it to hurt, because then it feels good. Everyone wants it. Everyone I know. We all want to feel good. I want some so badly.  I want some right now, before I say another word. It’s so expensive, but I want it so badly. I want to feel it in my veins. Everyone wants to feel it. I don’t want to say another word. I just want it. I would do it with Jack twenty more times if he would share with me again. I would do it with a dog. I don’t care what I have to do. I just want to feel it. I want it. I must find him, so he can share. I must find him today. I must go to his apartment and get some from him. I saw his papers. I know his story. I will find him.