Noah Coleman was good at his job. He didn't enjoy his job, but he was good at it. There is a very large level of discretion involved in his line of work. Noah is probably one of the hundred smartest people on the planet, and he ended up in this job by chance. When he was much younger, he attended Harvard for four years, followed by another six years at Oxford. It was during his time at Oxford where he met his flatmate, and eventually close friend, Desmond Patterson who would later turn out to be his boss. Noah was probably more intelligent that Desmond, but it was the Patterson name and family history that provided the funding and ability for the men to do the things that they have been able to do.
Noah sipped on his coffee as he watched the second hand tick, tick, tick around the clock in the room. Today was a special day. Today was an eventful day. Most days were pretty boring, aside from the ones when he got to meet with potential clients. On an average day in the office, Noah spent his time reading report after report that his employees assembled for him. These reports were biographies on various millionaires in the world. These are not just any biography, they are extremely detailed lists of every major event in their lives. These major events were the selling points that Noah would use, if he decided any of these people were worth moving to the next level.
But today was an "event day" as they referred to them in the office. A client had already been approached, and an offer had already been made. The client had accepted the offer, and The Centre had already received payment. Noah remembered in the early days, when Desmond used to come down and witness the events. By this time, they had done so many successfully that it no longer interested Desmond, he just wanted the money deposited and didn't want to get up in the middle of the night to deal with things, he valued his sleep too much.
Noah valued his sleep too, but he had no choice. This was his job. Luckily, he had a very large and very comfortable couch in his office and would be taking a long nap in about fifteen minutes. The second hand moved upward and meet the minute hand at the twelve. The hour hand was sitting at the four, and Noah took one last sip of his coffee before he stood up, straightened his tie, picked up a glass of water and left his office. He took the elevator up to the lobby and met today's event: Nick Webber.
Nick Webber was a multimillionaire. Twenty-four hours earlier he was in his ocean-side mansion in Miami, sitting on hi massive deck, overlooking the flowing water in the moonlight. He had three beautiful naked women with him, and large amounts of alcohol and drugs in his system. Nick had been divorced three times, and never really loved any of the women he was married to. He was the heir to a Texas oil company, and never really had to work a day in his life. He had some serious regrets in his life, and by this point realized that he was an epic failure to his parents and grandparents. Nick had decided it was time to change his life, but he wanted one last night of debauchery before he made the life-changing choice that he did.
Noah shook Nick's hand and said, "Mr. Webber, are you ready to change your life?"
Nick nodded his head. Noah took a capsule out of his pocket, and handed it to Nick, along with the glass of water, "I just need you to swallow this for me."
Noah and Nick walked to the elevator, and proceeded back down to the fourth level of the basement. Noah had two offices in this tower that sat at the corner of 39th Street and 7th Avenue. One was on the top floor, where he could easily look down 7th and see the busy lives of thousands of tourists heading in and out of Times Square. His second office was four floors below the streets of New York City.
"I'm still a little confused why we're doing this at four in the morning." Nick stated, almost in a question form.
"Trust me Mr. Webber, we've got our reasons, and we know what we're doing," was the response Noah gave him.
"You've really done this before, right? You're not just pulling my leg? Or trying to rob me, are you?"
Noah was still a little tired, and now a little annoyed. He didn't feel like answering the moronic questions, so he just remained silent. This didn't ease Nick's anxiety, and he began talking more and more, to the ire of Noah. The elevator ride felt three times longer than it should have. The door finally opened, and Noah walked as quickly as he could out into the long hallways, with its bland white walls and bright fluorescent lights. Nick trailed behind him, mumbling to himself.
As annoyed as Noah was, this was not the worst client he had even had, and he prayed that Nick wouldn't end up vomiting all over the nice walls and floor, like Mrs. Dennison had done a few months earlier. Suddenly, Noah only heard one set of footsteps, and he stopped to turn around and see Nick frozen, as if he'd seen a ghost.
"I don't know if I can do this..."
Noah rolled his eyes and walked back towards to his client to give him this word of advice, "Mr. Webber, we already have your money. We've told you it's non-refundable. You made this commitment. You walked into my office and you told me that you felt like your life was waste, and that you had disappointed everyone in your family for not taking an interest in your family business, and instead chose to spend thirty years blowing money on women, booze, and drugs. I remember the look in your eyes when you told me that you wanted me to change your life, and make you something that your family would respect."
Noah paused for a second, and looked Nick in the eyes.
"If you don't come with me, and allow me to do what you've paid me for, then you're just going to go back to the pathetically wasted life that you have. I remember the look of shame in your eyes, and I've got a horrible feeling that if I don't make your life better, you will eventually put a gun to your head and end your self-loathing of this embarrassment of a life that you live."
Another pause, just for more dramatic effect. Noah knew the next punch he was going to take, and it was going to be a whopper. At this point, Noah almost wanted to see if he could make this man cry. Sadly for Noah, he wasn't going to get the chance.
"You're right. Thank you. Let's do this."
The two sets of footsteps were once again going down the hallway, and eventually reached the door to The Chamber. Noah opened the door and ushered Nick in. There were three employees sitting at various computer stations surrounding a circular platform with wires running to three poles that were on various sides of the stand.
One of the employees walked up to Nick and took him by the arm, moving him towards the platform, "Please just stand in the middle and be as still as possible."
"Is there any preparations or anything?" Questioned Nick.
"Sir, we've done all the prep work that was needed, all we need now is for your to stand perfectly still, and open your mind".
The employee, Ridley, ran back over to his computer and started punching away at buttons.
Nick stood on the platform and scanned the rather vapid room. There was nothing aside from the platform, poles, and computers. With every passing second, Nick became more and more scared. Then he heard some type of electric humming sound, and it got louder and louder. Suddenly, hi head began to feel very light, as if his skull was getting bigger and taking any and all pressure off of his brain. He tried to open his eyes, but they had fallen closed and he seemed to have no control over them anymore, it was just darkness as the humming got louder and louder, and then Nick heard a sound so piercingly high-pitched that it honestly felt like his eardrum exploded. At that exact same second, all the darkness Nick was seeing was replaced with an intense white light, so intense that it felt like he was starring directly at the surface of the sun. It felt like his eyes were melting.
And then it was over.
Nick's body collapsed on the platform.
Noah looked at Ridley, who gave him a nod.
Nick was obviously disoriented and confused, "Where am I? Hello? I can't see anything..." Nick repeated these phrases a few times, as he propped himself up, and eventually sat on the platform, waving his right hand around in front of him, and using his left hand to rub his eyes.
When Noah finally got to the platform, he starred down at Nick's confused body. This was the discreet part of his job that he hated the most.
Noah pulled out his 9mm Beretta 92FS from under his jacket and put one single bullet into the skull of Nick Webber.
As the three employees walked over to the body, Noah Coleman headed out of the room, and towards his office. It was time to take a nap before he had to go up to his other office.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Saturday, March 20, 2010
The Best Sixty-Nine Years
John Brown found himself sitting in his favorite chair, in his living room. He looked around at all the picture frames on the walls, and the digital photograph thing that his kids had gotten them for Christmas a few years earlier. As hundreds of photos transitioned between each other, John found himself lost in a reflective state of mind. Somewhere in the vast time of remembrance, a tear formulated itself and traveled down the grooves of John's face. It was the first of thousands of tears that he was about to begin to lose. Each individual tear carrying another memory with it. While the rest of his family was upstairs, hosting their memorial event, John just wanted to get away and spend some quality alone time with the memory of the woman of his dreams.
It had only been six hours since his wife, Anna, had been placed into the earth.
Six days before that, John had rushed Anna to the hospital in the middle of the night. She was complaining of serve pains in her abdominal area.
It was only two years before that when Anna had to rush John to the hospital, when he collapsed in their back yard while trying to pull weeds from her garden. It was John's third heart attack, and once again he barely made it through.
Earlier that year was a huge milestone for John and Anna, they became great-great grandparents, when their 16-year old great-granddaughter, Amanda, gave birth a child. It came with a lot of controversy, and many in the extended family were very upset with her, and her father - Brandon. But, despite the attitudes and the feelings, everyone came together when he was born, and welcomed another generation into their family. John and Anna felt so old, when they took a family portrait with five generations together.
Two years earlier, John and Anna celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary. Despite being such a huge milestone, and the grandness of their previous anniversaries, they decided that they wanted something smaller this time. They rented out a local reception hall, and had the entire family get together. Over the many years, their small mid-western family had expanded to all extremes of the country. One of their sons, James was in San Fransisco. One of their grandchildren was living in Alaska. One of their great-grandchildren was going to school in New York City. Many other members were scattered all across the United States. Some had moved for school, some had moved for jobs, and other had moved for love. All John and Anna wanted was for everyone to come back together to celebrate, and almost everyone made it. The only person who wasn't in attendance was Jackson, James' son, who was in Afghanistan at the time.
Five years earlier was September 11th, and after the attacks, John and Anna were so afraid to find out that Jackson was being sent over to Iraq. The first of three trips that he would eventually take to the Middle East. The Brown family was a life long military family, and Jackson was the fourth generation to serve, but only the second to actually see war firsthand. While John was proud of his grandson, he constantly worried for him. The art of war had evolved significantly since his time, and he was very concerned for Jackson's safety. Because of this, Jackson would write home to his grandfather three times more often than he would write to his own mother. Jackson always looked up to his grandfather, and as a child, he would sit and listen to him tell war stories for hours at a time. These stories had a great influence on him, and Jackson never forgot how important John was to him.
One year earlier had been John's second heart attack, the worst one. Every member of the family feared the phone ringing, for it may carry the horrific news. It took the better part of six months, and lots of rehabilitation, but John eventually seemed to recover completely. During this entire time, Anna was always at his side. But this was really nothing different from every other day of their lives. Since the day they were married, Anna never again had a paid job in her life. Family was her job. She was the model they used for the Stepford Wives. She had breakfast on the table at 6:30am, and dinner was always hot and ready at 5:00pm. The laundry was done twice a week. The kids had brown sack lunches ready every day. Anna always joked about the taxi services she offered. Between the three children, there was Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, basketball practice, soccer practice, volleyball practice, theatre rehearsals, church functions, and time spent working on their uncle's farm. It was a busy life, but it was the life Anna wanted, and making her family as happy as possible was the only thing she ever cared about. Joe knew he was a lucky man, and he never took his wife granted. So, after so many years of back massages, foot rubs, fancy dinners, flowers, and love letters; it was finally Anna's turn to take care of her husband. It humbled John, who always believed it was his job and his responsibility to protect Anna.
Four years before that second heart attack was the fiftieth anniversary of John and Anna's marriage. For this milestone, they finally took their Hawaiian vacation. James, Aaron, and Julie grew up hearing their parents talk about their desire to visit Hawaii. John was a avid military enthusiast, and visited almost every battlefield in North America, including Queenston Heights, Chatham (Ontario), Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Veracruz, Salt River Canyon, Fort Sumter, and Gettysburg, of course. Many summer vacations were spent taking his children on long road trips to various small towns and open fields and giving them history lessons along the way. So, when John and Anna announced that they were finally planning their trip to Hawaii, their children spared no expense to make sure that it was the trip of a lifetime. Pooling their money and resources, the Brown children set their parents up with a ten-day vacation as an anniversary present. The vacation included stops on all four islands, and every possible historical tour that a person could take. Standing in the observation memorial for the USS Arizona was the most surreal experience that John had in years. The moment brought uncontrolled tears to his eyes, as he thought about the three friends he had whose final resting spot was directly below where he was standing. One was a family friend whom he only knew socially, but the other two were boys he grew up in the same neighborhood with, who just happen to be two years older than him, and had enlisted as soon as they graduated high school. John remembered the days before they left for Honolulu, and how excited they were to be serving their country. As a 17-year old senior, John was jealous and couldn't wait for that to be him. He was already registered, an just waiting to turn eighteen and graduate, and then he would be on his way. Less than six months later, two of his childhood friends would be dead.
Four years earlier, John and Anna welcomed their first great-grandchild into the world, when Aaron's oldest son, Brandon and his wife gave birth to their daughter Amanda. The elderly couple had to make a long trip to Richmond, Virginia to visit the newest generation of the Brown Family. As John held Amanda is his arms, Brandon asked, "Grandpa, will you tell her about the wars in this area?" As John began talking about the battle at Proctor's Creek, Brandon got nostalgic and he remembered when he was growing up, and listened to his grandfather talk to him and cousins for hours.
Five years earlier was when Anna was first diagnosed with cancer. It was rough on the entire family, as it took the doctors numerous visits and tons of tests to come up with what they thought was the problem. Science wasn't so advanced at this point, and this particular variety of cancer was a little lesser known, and not so understood. It showed various signs that continued to throw off the doctors, and it took a long time for them to finally narrow down what they thought it was. Sadly, they originally mis-diagnosed her, and it wouldn't be for many more years, with the help of advancements in technology, that doctors would realize their mistake. It's really too bad, because it's most likely that the treatments she was given this year, because the complications that eventually resulted in her body completely shutting down.
Five years before that was one of the most tragic events for the family. During a summer vacation to a lake house in the upper peninsula of Michigan, Julie's middle son, Edward drowned in a lake. Julie and her husband Charlie both worked in the legal system, and were both workaholics. Neither of them had been on a vacation in years. As their children were getting older, they decided that it would be nice to give them a nice, lavish vacation. So, they rented a large lake house at Lac La Belle for two weeks. John and Anna went up for a few days, and then returned home. Happy to get a small vacation in for themselves, and happy to spend quality time with their daughter and grandchildren. It made it that much harder, three days later when they got the phone call. Anna had to give the phone to John because she lost it as soon as she heard the news. Thomas, Edward, and Ashley took the paddle boat out on the water, eventually parking the boat and all getting out to play around. All three of them knew how to swim, and their parents had no worries. After a while, Thomas and Ashley realized that they hadn't seen Edward for a few minutes. The began diving down in the water, and it was Thomas who eventually found Edward, tangled in a tree underwater. The theory is that he somehow hit his head while swimming underwater, because disoriented, and thought he was swimming up, when in reality, he was swimming down under the tree, where he eventually became trapped and drowned. Thomas and Ashley got his body into the boat, and frantically trying to pump the water out of his lungs. Ashley paddle her hardest while Thomas beat on Edwards chest and tried to breath life back into his lungs. Sadly, by the time they reached the house and got their parents, it was a lost cause. Edward was dead. His siblings carried the burden and guilt for many, many years and the family did not take another vacation together until both Thomas and Ashley had graduated high school. It was one of the roughest times for the Brown family. Many family members made the trip home for the funeral, but a number of them were still missing.
Three years earlier, Jackson was born to James. Jackson was their last grandchild.
Four years before that, Martin was born to James. Despite being their oldest child, James was the last one to get married. He two children became the youngest of their generation.
The previous year, Ashley was born to Julie.
Edward was the year before that, Julie's second child.
One year earlier was a double whammy. Aaron gave John and Anna their first grandchild in April. And in June, Julie gave birth to Thomas. Their first two grandchildren came less than three months apart. And in October, James was married to Sarah. It was definitely an eventful year for John and Anna, and the entire Brown family. Lost of traveling was done by many of the family members.
The year before was a milestone for John and Anna. It was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and Anna went all out to plan a great trip to Europe for John. Ever since he returned from the War, John had spoken many times about wanting to go back someday. Anna was never really sure if he meant it. She heard stories of other soldiers returning and not being able to deal with the things that they went through and witnessed. But, after twenty-four years, John legitimately seemed interested in returning, and Anna had always wanted to see Europe, so she made the plans and surprised John a month beforehand. And Anna was right, John truly did want to go back. He was more than patient to wait for the cities to be rebuilt, so that he could enjoy them for what they truly were. He remembered various candies and treats that he used his money to buy while he was in Franc and Germany. He remembered walking through destroyed cities and wondering what they looked like in their prime. He knew his experiences were tainted by the war, and he always wanted to be able to experience these places the ways they were meant to be, by tourists. So, the middle-aged couple spent seventeen wonderful days enjoying France, Germany, Switzerland and Italy. John found numerous locations that he knows he was
One year earlier was Julie's wedding to Charlie. Sadly, James missed this wedding, as he was at the end of his four years in Vietnam. It was a long four years for Anna, more than John. Being a survivor of wartime, John seemed to believe that his son would return without any issue. Anna was constantly frantic, and hated going many months between hearing from her first-born son. It took its toll on their relationship, but John was a constant rock to keep her solid and help her through the rough times. When John finally came home, it was to a large family party, and John was finally introduced to Charlie, whom his sister stared dating not long after he left for Vietnam, and was now married to.
Four years earlier was the beginning of the rough times for Anna. It was an emotional goodbye when she was forced to watch John walk through the corridor and get onto the plane that would take him to his company, and only a few days later he would be on another plane heading to the South Pacific. She couldn't even try to strong about it. She didn't sleep for three nights beforehand, and when she made him his favorite breakfast, she cried the entire time he was eating it. She cried the entire time they drove him to the airport. She cried the entire time they were standing in the terminal, and she collapsed on the ground when was out of her sight. But John was there for her, and did his best to be strong enough for both of them. That summer was their twentieth anniversary, and despite the few months time, Anna was still an emotional wreck. So, for their anniversary, John planned a very special trip. Out into the middle of the countryside. And even though he tried to keep it a surprise, Anna was not dumb. When they were still an hour away from their destination, Anna knew exactly where they were going, and what it meant to that day. As they pulled up the winding road, Anna felt the most peace she had in a long, long time. When they finally reached the clearing at the top of the hill, and pulled up to the little white church, Anna cried again. But this time, they were tears of joy and happiness, as she thought back to spending a warm June afternoon in this exact location, twenty years prior. They spent the day walking around the grounds, talking about the events of that day, talking about all of the moments they've had since then, and they ended a perfect afternoon with a picnic. Not one person bothered them the entire day, and it was as if the world stopped just for them to enjoy the afternoon together. While it did provide ease while they were there, it's didn't last too long after she arrived home. Anna just could not stop thinking about her little boy, being in the heart of a war where thousands of people were dying. A few years later, that church would be torn down, and this special day was the last time either of them saw the church where they were married.
The previous fifteen years were filled with young love, and a growing family. Thousands of diapers for their three children. Sporting events for the kids. School dances. Summer camps. The family moved quite a bit in the beginning, but by the time James was set to start high school, John and Anna settled down in the city and house that they would end up living in for the next forty-eight years. The military took them all across the country, and it's probably why and how this family developed such a close-knit and tight family relationship. They always had each other to depend on, and despite what happened down the road, and despite the paths their lives would take, and despite how ever far they moved away from each other, this family always stayed close, because that's how they all knew life. Ever since Julie was born.
Aaron was born the year before.
And James was born two years earlier.
This was one year after John and Anna got married.
Which was two years after John returned from Europe, serving in World War II.
John had spent the previous three years in France and Germany, serving in the United States Army. John was prepared to sign up at age 17, but had to wait until after he graduated high school and turned 18, and on his birthday he signed his papers, and it was merely a few weeks later that he found himself in basic training. Which was a very rough way to start his very young relationship with Anna. He wasn't allowed to call or write her, and then he was only allowed to be home for one week before he was shipped out. He landed on the beach of Normandy only hours after the first wave, and John will never forget the thousand of bodies that he saw on that day. But, even while he was in Europe, he was able to occasionally get letter written and sent to Anna, and in those letters he begged and pleaded with her to wait for him, and to give him a chance to give her a wonderful life. John was madly in love with Anna, even though they had only been dating for a little over one year at this time. And John's letter's reached Anna, and touched her in so many ways, that she knew that she needed to wait for him to come home, and that she wanted a long life with him. She would read every letter he wrote, everyday, and she would lie in bed, staring into the paint patterns on her ceiling, while she day-dreamed of a future with John. She thought about kids, and grand kids, and a perfect life together. John and Anna did not have a perfect life, they had a life full of ups and downs, lots of good and some bad. But, when Anna was getting ready to pass away, and lying on her hospital bed, she looked at the ceiling in that room, and she thought back to being seventeen, eighteen, and even nineteen, and she compared her notes with herself. Marry the man of my dreams? Check. Have children, grandchildren, and a solid family? Check. Die in the arms of the man I'm madly in love with? Check.
One year prior was the first date for John and Anna.
John was a senior and Anna was a junior, and they met each other on the sidelines of a football game. John was a wide receiver for his high school's team, while Anna was a cheerleader. When John caught a ball and was sprinting down the sideline, he was eventually hit by a safety and went flying out of bounds. When he hit the ground, he rolled, and ended up taking out the legs of Anna. She tumbled down on top of him, and as he helped her up - they had their first "shared moment". John instantly thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. It might be going too far to say it was "love at first sight", but when John tracked Anna down the next day to ask her to dinner, it was mostly definitely love at second sight.
John did not have a car of his own, therefore he begged and pleaded and bartered, until his father agreed to allow him to use his 1939 Ford Deluxe Coupe to take out Anna. John took advantage of the car, and for the first hour of their date, they just cruised up and down the main streets of town, while they talked. They eventually ended up getting some Surf 'N Turf for dinner, before heading to the small single-screen movie theatre to watch "Babes on Broadway". It was during the musical number "How About You?" that John leaned over and kissed Anna on the cheek, and when she turned to look at him, they had their first kiss.
Five years later, at their wedding, they would have their first dance to this song.
And sixty-nine years later, while Anna laid in her hospital bed, slipping in and out of consciousness, John would be sitting right next to her with his arms wrapped around her, whispering into her ear...
"I'm so delighted I've ignited the spark within you. Let me continue to make it burn..."
It had only been six hours since his wife, Anna, had been placed into the earth.
Six days before that, John had rushed Anna to the hospital in the middle of the night. She was complaining of serve pains in her abdominal area.
It was only two years before that when Anna had to rush John to the hospital, when he collapsed in their back yard while trying to pull weeds from her garden. It was John's third heart attack, and once again he barely made it through.
Earlier that year was a huge milestone for John and Anna, they became great-great grandparents, when their 16-year old great-granddaughter, Amanda, gave birth a child. It came with a lot of controversy, and many in the extended family were very upset with her, and her father - Brandon. But, despite the attitudes and the feelings, everyone came together when he was born, and welcomed another generation into their family. John and Anna felt so old, when they took a family portrait with five generations together.
Two years earlier, John and Anna celebrated their sixtieth wedding anniversary. Despite being such a huge milestone, and the grandness of their previous anniversaries, they decided that they wanted something smaller this time. They rented out a local reception hall, and had the entire family get together. Over the many years, their small mid-western family had expanded to all extremes of the country. One of their sons, James was in San Fransisco. One of their grandchildren was living in Alaska. One of their great-grandchildren was going to school in New York City. Many other members were scattered all across the United States. Some had moved for school, some had moved for jobs, and other had moved for love. All John and Anna wanted was for everyone to come back together to celebrate, and almost everyone made it. The only person who wasn't in attendance was Jackson, James' son, who was in Afghanistan at the time.
Five years earlier was September 11th, and after the attacks, John and Anna were so afraid to find out that Jackson was being sent over to Iraq. The first of three trips that he would eventually take to the Middle East. The Brown family was a life long military family, and Jackson was the fourth generation to serve, but only the second to actually see war firsthand. While John was proud of his grandson, he constantly worried for him. The art of war had evolved significantly since his time, and he was very concerned for Jackson's safety. Because of this, Jackson would write home to his grandfather three times more often than he would write to his own mother. Jackson always looked up to his grandfather, and as a child, he would sit and listen to him tell war stories for hours at a time. These stories had a great influence on him, and Jackson never forgot how important John was to him.
One year earlier had been John's second heart attack, the worst one. Every member of the family feared the phone ringing, for it may carry the horrific news. It took the better part of six months, and lots of rehabilitation, but John eventually seemed to recover completely. During this entire time, Anna was always at his side. But this was really nothing different from every other day of their lives. Since the day they were married, Anna never again had a paid job in her life. Family was her job. She was the model they used for the Stepford Wives. She had breakfast on the table at 6:30am, and dinner was always hot and ready at 5:00pm. The laundry was done twice a week. The kids had brown sack lunches ready every day. Anna always joked about the taxi services she offered. Between the three children, there was Boy Scouts, Girl Scouts, basketball practice, soccer practice, volleyball practice, theatre rehearsals, church functions, and time spent working on their uncle's farm. It was a busy life, but it was the life Anna wanted, and making her family as happy as possible was the only thing she ever cared about. Joe knew he was a lucky man, and he never took his wife granted. So, after so many years of back massages, foot rubs, fancy dinners, flowers, and love letters; it was finally Anna's turn to take care of her husband. It humbled John, who always believed it was his job and his responsibility to protect Anna.
Four years before that second heart attack was the fiftieth anniversary of John and Anna's marriage. For this milestone, they finally took their Hawaiian vacation. James, Aaron, and Julie grew up hearing their parents talk about their desire to visit Hawaii. John was a avid military enthusiast, and visited almost every battlefield in North America, including Queenston Heights, Chatham (Ontario), Palo Alto, Resaca de la Palma, Veracruz, Salt River Canyon, Fort Sumter, and Gettysburg, of course. Many summer vacations were spent taking his children on long road trips to various small towns and open fields and giving them history lessons along the way. So, when John and Anna announced that they were finally planning their trip to Hawaii, their children spared no expense to make sure that it was the trip of a lifetime. Pooling their money and resources, the Brown children set their parents up with a ten-day vacation as an anniversary present. The vacation included stops on all four islands, and every possible historical tour that a person could take. Standing in the observation memorial for the USS Arizona was the most surreal experience that John had in years. The moment brought uncontrolled tears to his eyes, as he thought about the three friends he had whose final resting spot was directly below where he was standing. One was a family friend whom he only knew socially, but the other two were boys he grew up in the same neighborhood with, who just happen to be two years older than him, and had enlisted as soon as they graduated high school. John remembered the days before they left for Honolulu, and how excited they were to be serving their country. As a 17-year old senior, John was jealous and couldn't wait for that to be him. He was already registered, an just waiting to turn eighteen and graduate, and then he would be on his way. Less than six months later, two of his childhood friends would be dead.
Four years earlier, John and Anna welcomed their first great-grandchild into the world, when Aaron's oldest son, Brandon and his wife gave birth to their daughter Amanda. The elderly couple had to make a long trip to Richmond, Virginia to visit the newest generation of the Brown Family. As John held Amanda is his arms, Brandon asked, "Grandpa, will you tell her about the wars in this area?" As John began talking about the battle at Proctor's Creek, Brandon got nostalgic and he remembered when he was growing up, and listened to his grandfather talk to him and cousins for hours.
Five years earlier was when Anna was first diagnosed with cancer. It was rough on the entire family, as it took the doctors numerous visits and tons of tests to come up with what they thought was the problem. Science wasn't so advanced at this point, and this particular variety of cancer was a little lesser known, and not so understood. It showed various signs that continued to throw off the doctors, and it took a long time for them to finally narrow down what they thought it was. Sadly, they originally mis-diagnosed her, and it wouldn't be for many more years, with the help of advancements in technology, that doctors would realize their mistake. It's really too bad, because it's most likely that the treatments she was given this year, because the complications that eventually resulted in her body completely shutting down.
Five years before that was one of the most tragic events for the family. During a summer vacation to a lake house in the upper peninsula of Michigan, Julie's middle son, Edward drowned in a lake. Julie and her husband Charlie both worked in the legal system, and were both workaholics. Neither of them had been on a vacation in years. As their children were getting older, they decided that it would be nice to give them a nice, lavish vacation. So, they rented a large lake house at Lac La Belle for two weeks. John and Anna went up for a few days, and then returned home. Happy to get a small vacation in for themselves, and happy to spend quality time with their daughter and grandchildren. It made it that much harder, three days later when they got the phone call. Anna had to give the phone to John because she lost it as soon as she heard the news. Thomas, Edward, and Ashley took the paddle boat out on the water, eventually parking the boat and all getting out to play around. All three of them knew how to swim, and their parents had no worries. After a while, Thomas and Ashley realized that they hadn't seen Edward for a few minutes. The began diving down in the water, and it was Thomas who eventually found Edward, tangled in a tree underwater. The theory is that he somehow hit his head while swimming underwater, because disoriented, and thought he was swimming up, when in reality, he was swimming down under the tree, where he eventually became trapped and drowned. Thomas and Ashley got his body into the boat, and frantically trying to pump the water out of his lungs. Ashley paddle her hardest while Thomas beat on Edwards chest and tried to breath life back into his lungs. Sadly, by the time they reached the house and got their parents, it was a lost cause. Edward was dead. His siblings carried the burden and guilt for many, many years and the family did not take another vacation together until both Thomas and Ashley had graduated high school. It was one of the roughest times for the Brown family. Many family members made the trip home for the funeral, but a number of them were still missing.
Three years earlier, Jackson was born to James. Jackson was their last grandchild.
Four years before that, Martin was born to James. Despite being their oldest child, James was the last one to get married. He two children became the youngest of their generation.
The previous year, Ashley was born to Julie.
Edward was the year before that, Julie's second child.
One year earlier was a double whammy. Aaron gave John and Anna their first grandchild in April. And in June, Julie gave birth to Thomas. Their first two grandchildren came less than three months apart. And in October, James was married to Sarah. It was definitely an eventful year for John and Anna, and the entire Brown family. Lost of traveling was done by many of the family members.
The year before was a milestone for John and Anna. It was their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, and Anna went all out to plan a great trip to Europe for John. Ever since he returned from the War, John had spoken many times about wanting to go back someday. Anna was never really sure if he meant it. She heard stories of other soldiers returning and not being able to deal with the things that they went through and witnessed. But, after twenty-four years, John legitimately seemed interested in returning, and Anna had always wanted to see Europe, so she made the plans and surprised John a month beforehand. And Anna was right, John truly did want to go back. He was more than patient to wait for the cities to be rebuilt, so that he could enjoy them for what they truly were. He remembered various candies and treats that he used his money to buy while he was in Franc and Germany. He remembered walking through destroyed cities and wondering what they looked like in their prime. He knew his experiences were tainted by the war, and he always wanted to be able to experience these places the ways they were meant to be, by tourists. So, the middle-aged couple spent seventeen wonderful days enjoying France, Germany, Switzerland and Italy. John found numerous locations that he knows he was
One year earlier was Julie's wedding to Charlie. Sadly, James missed this wedding, as he was at the end of his four years in Vietnam. It was a long four years for Anna, more than John. Being a survivor of wartime, John seemed to believe that his son would return without any issue. Anna was constantly frantic, and hated going many months between hearing from her first-born son. It took its toll on their relationship, but John was a constant rock to keep her solid and help her through the rough times. When John finally came home, it was to a large family party, and John was finally introduced to Charlie, whom his sister stared dating not long after he left for Vietnam, and was now married to.
Four years earlier was the beginning of the rough times for Anna. It was an emotional goodbye when she was forced to watch John walk through the corridor and get onto the plane that would take him to his company, and only a few days later he would be on another plane heading to the South Pacific. She couldn't even try to strong about it. She didn't sleep for three nights beforehand, and when she made him his favorite breakfast, she cried the entire time he was eating it. She cried the entire time they drove him to the airport. She cried the entire time they were standing in the terminal, and she collapsed on the ground when was out of her sight. But John was there for her, and did his best to be strong enough for both of them. That summer was their twentieth anniversary, and despite the few months time, Anna was still an emotional wreck. So, for their anniversary, John planned a very special trip. Out into the middle of the countryside. And even though he tried to keep it a surprise, Anna was not dumb. When they were still an hour away from their destination, Anna knew exactly where they were going, and what it meant to that day. As they pulled up the winding road, Anna felt the most peace she had in a long, long time. When they finally reached the clearing at the top of the hill, and pulled up to the little white church, Anna cried again. But this time, they were tears of joy and happiness, as she thought back to spending a warm June afternoon in this exact location, twenty years prior. They spent the day walking around the grounds, talking about the events of that day, talking about all of the moments they've had since then, and they ended a perfect afternoon with a picnic. Not one person bothered them the entire day, and it was as if the world stopped just for them to enjoy the afternoon together. While it did provide ease while they were there, it's didn't last too long after she arrived home. Anna just could not stop thinking about her little boy, being in the heart of a war where thousands of people were dying. A few years later, that church would be torn down, and this special day was the last time either of them saw the church where they were married.
The previous fifteen years were filled with young love, and a growing family. Thousands of diapers for their three children. Sporting events for the kids. School dances. Summer camps. The family moved quite a bit in the beginning, but by the time James was set to start high school, John and Anna settled down in the city and house that they would end up living in for the next forty-eight years. The military took them all across the country, and it's probably why and how this family developed such a close-knit and tight family relationship. They always had each other to depend on, and despite what happened down the road, and despite the paths their lives would take, and despite how ever far they moved away from each other, this family always stayed close, because that's how they all knew life. Ever since Julie was born.
Aaron was born the year before.
And James was born two years earlier.
This was one year after John and Anna got married.
Which was two years after John returned from Europe, serving in World War II.
John had spent the previous three years in France and Germany, serving in the United States Army. John was prepared to sign up at age 17, but had to wait until after he graduated high school and turned 18, and on his birthday he signed his papers, and it was merely a few weeks later that he found himself in basic training. Which was a very rough way to start his very young relationship with Anna. He wasn't allowed to call or write her, and then he was only allowed to be home for one week before he was shipped out. He landed on the beach of Normandy only hours after the first wave, and John will never forget the thousand of bodies that he saw on that day. But, even while he was in Europe, he was able to occasionally get letter written and sent to Anna, and in those letters he begged and pleaded with her to wait for him, and to give him a chance to give her a wonderful life. John was madly in love with Anna, even though they had only been dating for a little over one year at this time. And John's letter's reached Anna, and touched her in so many ways, that she knew that she needed to wait for him to come home, and that she wanted a long life with him. She would read every letter he wrote, everyday, and she would lie in bed, staring into the paint patterns on her ceiling, while she day-dreamed of a future with John. She thought about kids, and grand kids, and a perfect life together. John and Anna did not have a perfect life, they had a life full of ups and downs, lots of good and some bad. But, when Anna was getting ready to pass away, and lying on her hospital bed, she looked at the ceiling in that room, and she thought back to being seventeen, eighteen, and even nineteen, and she compared her notes with herself. Marry the man of my dreams? Check. Have children, grandchildren, and a solid family? Check. Die in the arms of the man I'm madly in love with? Check.
One year prior was the first date for John and Anna.
John was a senior and Anna was a junior, and they met each other on the sidelines of a football game. John was a wide receiver for his high school's team, while Anna was a cheerleader. When John caught a ball and was sprinting down the sideline, he was eventually hit by a safety and went flying out of bounds. When he hit the ground, he rolled, and ended up taking out the legs of Anna. She tumbled down on top of him, and as he helped her up - they had their first "shared moment". John instantly thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. It might be going too far to say it was "love at first sight", but when John tracked Anna down the next day to ask her to dinner, it was mostly definitely love at second sight.
John did not have a car of his own, therefore he begged and pleaded and bartered, until his father agreed to allow him to use his 1939 Ford Deluxe Coupe to take out Anna. John took advantage of the car, and for the first hour of their date, they just cruised up and down the main streets of town, while they talked. They eventually ended up getting some Surf 'N Turf for dinner, before heading to the small single-screen movie theatre to watch "Babes on Broadway". It was during the musical number "How About You?" that John leaned over and kissed Anna on the cheek, and when she turned to look at him, they had their first kiss.
Five years later, at their wedding, they would have their first dance to this song.
And sixty-nine years later, while Anna laid in her hospital bed, slipping in and out of consciousness, John would be sitting right next to her with his arms wrapped around her, whispering into her ear...
"I'm so delighted I've ignited the spark within you. Let me continue to make it burn..."
Monday, March 08, 2010
Self Impossed Solitary
I can feel the cold linoleum on my bare side. It's sending a cold chill all the way down to my toes. I open my eyes to look at the base of the toilet, it appears some of my vomit didn't make it into the bowl, and has dripped down the side. There's a small pool of orange-ish chunky liquid mere centimeters from my face. I feel blood slowly dripping out of my nose, across my upper lip and down the side of my face. It's almost like Chinese water torture, having to feel the slow moving liquid traverse so slowly. If I had more energy, or didn't feel like my head was going to explode, I would actually attempt to wipe it off. Instead, I allow myself this sadistic moment to remind myself that I'm actually alive. I've actually reached the age of 30 years, and one day.
I open my eyes again. How much time has passed? What time is it? What time was it last time? Maybe I'm thirty and two days, and I don't even realize it. Is it possible to sleep through an entire day? Isn't that called a coma? You can go three days without water, right? Can you go an entire day without going to the bathroom? Did I piss myself? I can't even tell. Are my legs missing? Are they so numb that I can't feel them?
I force myself to move, ever so slightly. Okay, I see two legs. That makes me happy. But, my pants do look wet, that doesn't make me happy. I close my eyes again. It was partially in relief, and partially because the light in the bathroom is killing me. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel my eye lids burning with light, and it's not pitch black in my mind's eye, instead it's a deep red color. I see lots of little bright lights swirling around. There's no way they can be real, and I don't know why my mind creates these things, their only purpose seems to be to make me dizzier and more nauseous. I force myself to open my eyes and face the bright lights. I believe that to be the lesser of two evils, when faced with the potential of emptying the rest of the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. If there's even anything left in my stomach, which its very plausible that there's nothing in there at all, which would explain the pain I'm feeling down there. If that is the case, then I'll gladly take the bright lights of this little bathroom, over dry-heaving into the toilet. My throat is currently dry, so I can only imagine the extreme pain and discomfort that would result in. I'm starting to become aware of the discomfort in my right shoulder. Slowly, but surely, I force myself to roll over onto my back. Well, I started off slowly, but at one point, gravity just took over and there I was, looking straight up at the ceiling.
I should really put up more wall decor in this room. These plain white walls are just so boring. I've never timed my bathroom visits, but I've usually got a copy of Maxim or Sports Illustrated to read. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to give the record to this visit: This is almost definitely the longest I've ever spent in this room. I wonder what other people have thought when they've been sitting in here? Do they grab a magazine off the toilet tank and read it? Or do they sit and stare at the wall, bored? Artwork. I should buy some artwork. But, what kind of artwork do you buy for a bathroom? I'm thirty years old, I should know the answer to this questions. What does my mother have in her bathroom? I can't even remember right now.
Is it possible to sleep with your eyes open? I don't remember closing my eye, but suddenly it seems like time has passed. I mean, I know time has passed, seconds are ticking away, every second. But, it feels like a serious amount of time has passed. Then again, I'm really in no shape to judge anything. That's kind of a double entendre, I really don't have the ability to judge the passing of time, and given my current circumstances, I don't believe I can judge any other drunk human being I ever see.
I remember when I first turned twenty-one. Oh jeez, that was nine years ago. Anyways, I went into a bathroom at a club, and saw a guy down on all fours vomiting into the toilet of a public bathroom. I remember looking at the wet, dirty, disgusting floor and seeing his pant legs soaked in what I can only assume was water, urine, and who knows what else? I remember telling myself that I would never be that guy, I'd never be that pathetic. I'm sure it's somewhat hypocritical, but I still justify to myself that I'm in this position in my bathroom, and not some public place where anyone and everyone can see me and judge me.
This could possibly be the worst hangover that I can remember. There's been some bad ones in the past, and college is really a four year blur. But, when you never sober up enough to remember things, it's really hard to know what kind of headaches you ever had during that period. Wow. Today is also kind of a milestone, now that I think about it. And think is all I've been doing for the past... hour? two hours? Whatever. Today's a milestone. I've officially been an alcoholic for half my life.
It was on my fifteenth birthday, that I went over to Marty Buckner's house, went down into the basement to "play pool", where we actually swiped an open bottle of Smirnoff Vodka. It was really kind of like a military mission. I remember loosening up my belt by one notch, so that bottle was snug against my stomach. Marty went upstairs first, and did the recon, while I stood at the top of the stairwell. The kitchen was clear, the laundry room was clear, and then I heard the code words: "Yo Joe!" That was cue to dart through the kitchen, through the laundry room, and I jump through the open door into the garage. Marty closed the door and we jetted to our bikes, parked in the driveway. It was so exhilarating. I peddled as fast I could, trying to get farther and farther away from the scene of the crime, with each rotation of the wheel, I felt like I was untouchable. We'd just pulled off an amazing heist, and I had the booty resting on my bike seat, buckled in by my belt. We peddled six blocks away, to Owens Park, and scouted things out. There was a giant, three-leveled fort in the center of the park. This was where we usually played, but obviously, there was a bunch of other kids playing there too. On the back side of the park, there were four over-sized tires, half buried in the sand. We made our way over to them, and found them vacant. That afternoon, I took my first sip of alcohol. And my second. And many, many more. The bottle was probably half full when we swiped it, and Marty and I probably drank half of what was in the bottle. That night, when we finally returned the bottle, I remember using the bathroom in the basement to add water back into the bottle, to get the level back to where it was before we took it. To my knowledge, we got away with it. I know neither one of us ever got in trouble for it, and the night we graduated from high school was the only time we ever admitted to any of our friends what we did that afternoon.
From that day on, it's been a blur of fifteen years. Obviously, it wasn't easy to regularly get my hands on liquor, and I often did some shady thing to satisfy my urge. I stole bottles friend's parents, sometime with my friend's knowledge, sometimes not. I dated one girl in high school, and every Friday night we would kill about half a box of Franzia wine that her parents kept in fridge. I remember driving to school every morning, and buying a big bottle of orange juice at the gas station. I'd drink half of it by the time I got to school, at which point I'd pop open the trunk, and pull out a giant bottle of Dark Eyes Vodka, which I'd mix with the OJ, in order to make my school days much more tolerable. I was lucky to have friends with older brothers, who were willing to buy thing for me, as long I financially compensated them for their generosity.
College was easy access. Rushing a fraternity my freshman year meant there would never be a shortage of booze in the house, and there would always be a senior brother to buy me anything I needed. After college, it was game on in the bars and clubs. Granted, that got old and boring after a few years, and then I just found myself to be the guy sitting alone at the corner of the bar, sipping on a Belgian White Beer, and doing shots of Jäger combined with Red Bull.
Then, there's nights like last night. There's those amazing, and often rare nights, where a number of closest and best friends all step away from their perfect lives, and wives, and children, and families, and they just throw caution to the wind, and we remember what it was like to be young, and dumb, and foolish, and over-indulgent. I know that I'm not the happiest person in life, I feel like I've always made the wrong choices at the wrong times, and I've lost a lot of who and what I wanted to be, "when I grew up". But, I have to believe that even my friends who I look at as having "the perfect life", have to sitting in their minds believing that they didn't turn out exactly who they wanted to be. I think the majority of people in this world are living with "settled lives". Lives which they have mentally convinced themselves are good enough, despite all of the things they never accomplished. No matter how they feel, or what they think about at night when they lie bed, it's always a great time when we get together and all decide to let loose. I'm really blessed that I do have the friends that I do.
How long has it been now? Suddenly my head doesn't hurt as bad. Don't get my wrong, it's still pounding, but that sharp pain that felt like a knife stabbing into the front right side of my skull, has gone down to just a numbing pain. Maybe it's time to try to get up?
I do it slowly. I push my body up, and put my shoulders against the wall. I slowly move my shoulders up, until I'm sitting straight up. My body feels like Jell-O. I'm weak. My hands are shaking, and I can't lock my elbows in place. The room gets a little dizzy, but the feeling passes after a few minutes. I take a moment to bury my face in my hands, cheeks feel puffy to the touch. When I pull them away, they are covered in nasty mixture of water, blood, and sweat. I grab a handful of toilet paper to wipe of my hands, and look to my right to throw it into the toilet. Mistake. Obviously, my drunken self never remembered to flush the toilet and I was forced to look at a disgusting lake of orange swamp water, which its main color came from the loads of buffalo wings we gorged ourselves on at dinner. There were little islands of floating peanuts, which I remember grabbing handfuls of from the bowls on the bar top. There was something green in there, possibly a pickle? Maybe a jalapeño? Whatever it is, I don't remember eating that. I'm also not sure why my nose was bleeding, but it was obviously bleeding badly, because there's one area of the lake that looks like an oil spill of red hydrophobic polarization.
I toss in the toilet paper, and thank God that my nose is clogged with snot and other mucus, because I can't imagine what it actually smells like in this room. I listen to the water swirl around in the toilet, before I actually look back at it. Ugh, there's still some remnants in there. I'm going to hate myself later, when I actually clean this up. I put one hand on the toilet bowl, and the other against the wall, as I force myself onto my knees and then finally up to my feet. I'm sure the entire process took less than a minute, but it honestly felt like an hour to me.
Once I finally made it to my feet, I moved myself over in front of the mirror, and got the horror of seeing exactly what I looked like. I'm pretty sure I looked worse than most horror movie monsters from the last 1970s. I had unidentifiable liquids and dried substances caked to my face. I cranked on the hot water at full blast, and the sound cut through my ears and into the deepest area of brain. This caused my knees to buckle, and I had to hold myself up on the counter. I quickly turned the water velocity down to an auditory-approved level. I cup my hands and place them under the water, and spend a good long time washing my face. There's stuff in my hair, but I don't mess with it yet. A shower is my number one priority, as soon as I make it into the master bathroom.
I open the medicine cabinet, and pull out my painkillers. I've still got a couple of prescription drugs from a surgery I had last year. I've been saving them for a special occasion, and I think this qualifies. I pop two of them into my mouth, and almost instantly have a gag reflex. I stop myself, and quickly wash it down with water. I don't think water has ever tasted this good. Does water really taste good? I've never really been a fan, but this is amazing. Maybe I really love water? Whatever the case, it's my favorite right now, and I pour myself another glass. I chug the water like it's an Irish Car Bomb, and as enter my stomach, it's almost as if the water is giving me a recon report, and telling me: "I'm alone in here, your stomach is empty". It's at this point that I think it might be time to eat something. However, as I have that thought, it's juxtaposed with the other half of my brain thinking that if I put anything in my stomach, I'm going to be right back in front of that porcelain bowl.
I stare at myself in the mirror, while my brain argues with itself. Meanwhile, another part of my brain starts attempting to force myself to finally leave this self-imposed prison that I've been keeping myself in for who knows how long. I try to convince myself that I can move, I can walk, I can make it out of this room. I look at my splotchy red cheeks and wonder how long it's going to take those burst capillaries to heal up? I finally feel like I'm ready to go, but one step in, and I find myself holding onto the wall to prevent myself from falling over. My legs don't seem to have the blood flowing to them properly. My second attempt involves baby-steps, while I support myself against the wall. I finally make the short trip from the sink to the door, and when I attempt to free myself from this solitary, I look out into the real world with only one question...
"What happened in my living room?"
This is an entire work of fiction - I don't want to scare my parents! It was an exercise that forced me to write, and I wanted to test myself on my descriptive abilities to paint a visual picture to the reader, from a first person perspective.
I hope to write a couple of more short exercises, and then get back into seriously writing my novel. I pitched the novel to some friends on Saturday night, and was very pleased with the feedback I got from them, so I'm really forcing myself to MAKE the time to write everyday.
I open my eyes again. How much time has passed? What time is it? What time was it last time? Maybe I'm thirty and two days, and I don't even realize it. Is it possible to sleep through an entire day? Isn't that called a coma? You can go three days without water, right? Can you go an entire day without going to the bathroom? Did I piss myself? I can't even tell. Are my legs missing? Are they so numb that I can't feel them?
I force myself to move, ever so slightly. Okay, I see two legs. That makes me happy. But, my pants do look wet, that doesn't make me happy. I close my eyes again. It was partially in relief, and partially because the light in the bathroom is killing me. Even with my eyes closed, I can feel my eye lids burning with light, and it's not pitch black in my mind's eye, instead it's a deep red color. I see lots of little bright lights swirling around. There's no way they can be real, and I don't know why my mind creates these things, their only purpose seems to be to make me dizzier and more nauseous. I force myself to open my eyes and face the bright lights. I believe that to be the lesser of two evils, when faced with the potential of emptying the rest of the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. If there's even anything left in my stomach, which its very plausible that there's nothing in there at all, which would explain the pain I'm feeling down there. If that is the case, then I'll gladly take the bright lights of this little bathroom, over dry-heaving into the toilet. My throat is currently dry, so I can only imagine the extreme pain and discomfort that would result in. I'm starting to become aware of the discomfort in my right shoulder. Slowly, but surely, I force myself to roll over onto my back. Well, I started off slowly, but at one point, gravity just took over and there I was, looking straight up at the ceiling.
I should really put up more wall decor in this room. These plain white walls are just so boring. I've never timed my bathroom visits, but I've usually got a copy of Maxim or Sports Illustrated to read. I'm pretty sure I'm just going to give the record to this visit: This is almost definitely the longest I've ever spent in this room. I wonder what other people have thought when they've been sitting in here? Do they grab a magazine off the toilet tank and read it? Or do they sit and stare at the wall, bored? Artwork. I should buy some artwork. But, what kind of artwork do you buy for a bathroom? I'm thirty years old, I should know the answer to this questions. What does my mother have in her bathroom? I can't even remember right now.
Is it possible to sleep with your eyes open? I don't remember closing my eye, but suddenly it seems like time has passed. I mean, I know time has passed, seconds are ticking away, every second. But, it feels like a serious amount of time has passed. Then again, I'm really in no shape to judge anything. That's kind of a double entendre, I really don't have the ability to judge the passing of time, and given my current circumstances, I don't believe I can judge any other drunk human being I ever see.
I remember when I first turned twenty-one. Oh jeez, that was nine years ago. Anyways, I went into a bathroom at a club, and saw a guy down on all fours vomiting into the toilet of a public bathroom. I remember looking at the wet, dirty, disgusting floor and seeing his pant legs soaked in what I can only assume was water, urine, and who knows what else? I remember telling myself that I would never be that guy, I'd never be that pathetic. I'm sure it's somewhat hypocritical, but I still justify to myself that I'm in this position in my bathroom, and not some public place where anyone and everyone can see me and judge me.
This could possibly be the worst hangover that I can remember. There's been some bad ones in the past, and college is really a four year blur. But, when you never sober up enough to remember things, it's really hard to know what kind of headaches you ever had during that period. Wow. Today is also kind of a milestone, now that I think about it. And think is all I've been doing for the past... hour? two hours? Whatever. Today's a milestone. I've officially been an alcoholic for half my life.
It was on my fifteenth birthday, that I went over to Marty Buckner's house, went down into the basement to "play pool", where we actually swiped an open bottle of Smirnoff Vodka. It was really kind of like a military mission. I remember loosening up my belt by one notch, so that bottle was snug against my stomach. Marty went upstairs first, and did the recon, while I stood at the top of the stairwell. The kitchen was clear, the laundry room was clear, and then I heard the code words: "Yo Joe!" That was cue to dart through the kitchen, through the laundry room, and I jump through the open door into the garage. Marty closed the door and we jetted to our bikes, parked in the driveway. It was so exhilarating. I peddled as fast I could, trying to get farther and farther away from the scene of the crime, with each rotation of the wheel, I felt like I was untouchable. We'd just pulled off an amazing heist, and I had the booty resting on my bike seat, buckled in by my belt. We peddled six blocks away, to Owens Park, and scouted things out. There was a giant, three-leveled fort in the center of the park. This was where we usually played, but obviously, there was a bunch of other kids playing there too. On the back side of the park, there were four over-sized tires, half buried in the sand. We made our way over to them, and found them vacant. That afternoon, I took my first sip of alcohol. And my second. And many, many more. The bottle was probably half full when we swiped it, and Marty and I probably drank half of what was in the bottle. That night, when we finally returned the bottle, I remember using the bathroom in the basement to add water back into the bottle, to get the level back to where it was before we took it. To my knowledge, we got away with it. I know neither one of us ever got in trouble for it, and the night we graduated from high school was the only time we ever admitted to any of our friends what we did that afternoon.
From that day on, it's been a blur of fifteen years. Obviously, it wasn't easy to regularly get my hands on liquor, and I often did some shady thing to satisfy my urge. I stole bottles friend's parents, sometime with my friend's knowledge, sometimes not. I dated one girl in high school, and every Friday night we would kill about half a box of Franzia wine that her parents kept in fridge. I remember driving to school every morning, and buying a big bottle of orange juice at the gas station. I'd drink half of it by the time I got to school, at which point I'd pop open the trunk, and pull out a giant bottle of Dark Eyes Vodka, which I'd mix with the OJ, in order to make my school days much more tolerable. I was lucky to have friends with older brothers, who were willing to buy thing for me, as long I financially compensated them for their generosity.
College was easy access. Rushing a fraternity my freshman year meant there would never be a shortage of booze in the house, and there would always be a senior brother to buy me anything I needed. After college, it was game on in the bars and clubs. Granted, that got old and boring after a few years, and then I just found myself to be the guy sitting alone at the corner of the bar, sipping on a Belgian White Beer, and doing shots of Jäger combined with Red Bull.
Then, there's nights like last night. There's those amazing, and often rare nights, where a number of closest and best friends all step away from their perfect lives, and wives, and children, and families, and they just throw caution to the wind, and we remember what it was like to be young, and dumb, and foolish, and over-indulgent. I know that I'm not the happiest person in life, I feel like I've always made the wrong choices at the wrong times, and I've lost a lot of who and what I wanted to be, "when I grew up". But, I have to believe that even my friends who I look at as having "the perfect life", have to sitting in their minds believing that they didn't turn out exactly who they wanted to be. I think the majority of people in this world are living with "settled lives". Lives which they have mentally convinced themselves are good enough, despite all of the things they never accomplished. No matter how they feel, or what they think about at night when they lie bed, it's always a great time when we get together and all decide to let loose. I'm really blessed that I do have the friends that I do.
How long has it been now? Suddenly my head doesn't hurt as bad. Don't get my wrong, it's still pounding, but that sharp pain that felt like a knife stabbing into the front right side of my skull, has gone down to just a numbing pain. Maybe it's time to try to get up?
I do it slowly. I push my body up, and put my shoulders against the wall. I slowly move my shoulders up, until I'm sitting straight up. My body feels like Jell-O. I'm weak. My hands are shaking, and I can't lock my elbows in place. The room gets a little dizzy, but the feeling passes after a few minutes. I take a moment to bury my face in my hands, cheeks feel puffy to the touch. When I pull them away, they are covered in nasty mixture of water, blood, and sweat. I grab a handful of toilet paper to wipe of my hands, and look to my right to throw it into the toilet. Mistake. Obviously, my drunken self never remembered to flush the toilet and I was forced to look at a disgusting lake of orange swamp water, which its main color came from the loads of buffalo wings we gorged ourselves on at dinner. There were little islands of floating peanuts, which I remember grabbing handfuls of from the bowls on the bar top. There was something green in there, possibly a pickle? Maybe a jalapeño? Whatever it is, I don't remember eating that. I'm also not sure why my nose was bleeding, but it was obviously bleeding badly, because there's one area of the lake that looks like an oil spill of red hydrophobic polarization.
I toss in the toilet paper, and thank God that my nose is clogged with snot and other mucus, because I can't imagine what it actually smells like in this room. I listen to the water swirl around in the toilet, before I actually look back at it. Ugh, there's still some remnants in there. I'm going to hate myself later, when I actually clean this up. I put one hand on the toilet bowl, and the other against the wall, as I force myself onto my knees and then finally up to my feet. I'm sure the entire process took less than a minute, but it honestly felt like an hour to me.
Once I finally made it to my feet, I moved myself over in front of the mirror, and got the horror of seeing exactly what I looked like. I'm pretty sure I looked worse than most horror movie monsters from the last 1970s. I had unidentifiable liquids and dried substances caked to my face. I cranked on the hot water at full blast, and the sound cut through my ears and into the deepest area of brain. This caused my knees to buckle, and I had to hold myself up on the counter. I quickly turned the water velocity down to an auditory-approved level. I cup my hands and place them under the water, and spend a good long time washing my face. There's stuff in my hair, but I don't mess with it yet. A shower is my number one priority, as soon as I make it into the master bathroom.
I open the medicine cabinet, and pull out my painkillers. I've still got a couple of prescription drugs from a surgery I had last year. I've been saving them for a special occasion, and I think this qualifies. I pop two of them into my mouth, and almost instantly have a gag reflex. I stop myself, and quickly wash it down with water. I don't think water has ever tasted this good. Does water really taste good? I've never really been a fan, but this is amazing. Maybe I really love water? Whatever the case, it's my favorite right now, and I pour myself another glass. I chug the water like it's an Irish Car Bomb, and as enter my stomach, it's almost as if the water is giving me a recon report, and telling me: "I'm alone in here, your stomach is empty". It's at this point that I think it might be time to eat something. However, as I have that thought, it's juxtaposed with the other half of my brain thinking that if I put anything in my stomach, I'm going to be right back in front of that porcelain bowl.
I stare at myself in the mirror, while my brain argues with itself. Meanwhile, another part of my brain starts attempting to force myself to finally leave this self-imposed prison that I've been keeping myself in for who knows how long. I try to convince myself that I can move, I can walk, I can make it out of this room. I look at my splotchy red cheeks and wonder how long it's going to take those burst capillaries to heal up? I finally feel like I'm ready to go, but one step in, and I find myself holding onto the wall to prevent myself from falling over. My legs don't seem to have the blood flowing to them properly. My second attempt involves baby-steps, while I support myself against the wall. I finally make the short trip from the sink to the door, and when I attempt to free myself from this solitary, I look out into the real world with only one question...
"What happened in my living room?"
This is an entire work of fiction - I don't want to scare my parents! It was an exercise that forced me to write, and I wanted to test myself on my descriptive abilities to paint a visual picture to the reader, from a first person perspective.
I hope to write a couple of more short exercises, and then get back into seriously writing my novel. I pitched the novel to some friends on Saturday night, and was very pleased with the feedback I got from them, so I'm really forcing myself to MAKE the time to write everyday.
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