Ten O'Clock
The last moments of a hopeless man...
TUESDAY 6:30PM:
"My name is Dale and I'm an alcoholic."
I stared at the man across the room. He looked haggard...as if he had been through the depths of hell and back. His face was unshaven. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles. He looked like he'd been wearing the same set of clothing for days. I'm sure he reeked of sweat and booze, but fortunately enough for myself, I was sitting on the opposite side of the circle from him so I smelt nothing. This man was probably a lot of things, but he was no liar. Not tonight...
"Hello Dale", the rest of the group said, almost in unison.
I sat in silence, sipping my lukewarm coffee, wishing I was anywhere but there.
The group chairperson spoke confidently to the group, but his eyes were fixed intently on Dale.
"We welcome newcomers", said the chairperson, whose name was apparently Gordon.
"It's important for you to know that you are not alone Dale. You are among friends here. This is a safe place. That goes for all of you who are here for the first time."
Gordon's gaze turned to me. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room shift in my direction. I dropped my eyes to the floor. My face grew hot and I felt my sweat glands kick into overdrive. In my head, I uttered the words that everyone wanted to hear me say.
Hi. My name is Ben and I am an alcoholic. In my head, I heard their harsh criticisms and disapprovals at the sound of my confession. In my head, I felt my shame... my embarrassment... my utter disgust with myself as I imagined uttering the words they wanted to hear. I kept silent. I lifted my eyes from the floor and glared into Gordon's patient eyes.
"I...I need to go", I said softly. My voice came out sounding high-pitched and shaky. God damned nerves... "I don't belong here", I cleared my throat, stood, and briskly walked out of the room, ignoring the voices behind me telling me that I was in a safe place and imploring me to stay.
I ran from the church and fell to my knees in the parking lot, throwing up bits of that morning's breakfast and the atrocious coffee that I had consumed moments before. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I pulled the half empty flask from my breast pocket and emptied it into my mouth.
As I choked down the golden-brown liquid in painful gulps, my thoughts returned to Her.
My sweet angel...My Julianna... Those green eyes that I had gotten so lost in so many times before...
Those perfect lips that kissed me goodnight and whispered to me that everything would be alright...
That smile that told me she would love me until the end of time...
And her kind, gentle heart that belonged to me and only me until I tore it to shreds and replaced it with a fucking bottle.
Sure, I had a decent job that put food on the table, a decent apartment, good friends, a loving family, but compared to what She did for me...for my heart, nothing else besides that mattered.
That was my reason for the meetings. That was my reason to face my fears and dread and walk through those doors and sit with all the others who were in the same shitty situation as me. That was my reason for sitting through all the testimonials, pretending to listen as I sipped my watered down coffee, never saying a single word to anyone there, and slipping out unnoticed minutes before the meetings concluded. I was going through the motions. To do otherwise would be too painful.
But no more.
No more meetings.
No more putting on a plastic fucking smile and sitting in an uncomfortable metal folding chair surrounded by people who wore the same masks as I did. The only difference between them and me is that they have lines prepared.
Actors with lines...rehearsed and memorized.
Lines to spout out at exactly the right times to collect fake sympathy and fabricated tears from the circle of other actors.
No, this was not the place for me to recover.
The only recovery I needed was in Her arms. And obviously these AA get-together's weren't getting me there.
When I began attending, I even called numerous times to tell Her I was going to meetings...working the twelve steps...making huge steps in the right direction. Every call was met with her answering machine. It tore my heart out even though I knew I didn't deserve any better.
Tuesday 7:45PM
I staggered through my front door. I headed straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a large bottle of Vodka. I scoured the counter for a glass, but gave up after a few seconds and started drinking directly from the mouth of the bottle. My body slid down the side of the counter to the kitchen floor. I took another large gulp and my world spun. I fell into a dark sleep.
I dreamt of Her. I don't remember much, but I remember her sitting next to me smiling, telling me how much I meant to her and how she would love me for the rest of her life. Then she looked at my right hand, a bottle clutched firmly in my grasp. Her smile faded and she stood up and began to walk away. I tried to drop the bottle. Tried to smash it to a thousand fucking pieces on the ground, but it wouldn't leave my hand. Again and again, I involuntarily raised it to my lips and over and over I drank more and more. I glanced up and She was gone. I looked down at the bottle and realized that clutched firmly in my other hand was a pistol. Then the dream faded back into nothingness.
Tuesday 9:30PM
I awoke on the kitchen floor. The bottle had tipped over in my lap, soaking my pants. Whether it was just Vodka or piss or a mixture of both, I do not know. I stumbled shakily to my feet. I made my way to the end-table behind the front door and opened the top drawer. From it, I pulled my .45 automatic hand gun. I'd never used it before...and after tonight, I wasn't planning on ever using it again. With my hands shaking, I loaded one single bullet into the chamber.
My Julianna...My angel...
I set the gun on the toilet seat and peeled off my clothing.
She was my reason for living...
I settled into the tub. In one trembling hand, I held a photo of my princess...in the other, I held the gun.
She was my best friend...
I slid the barrel of the pistol into my mouth...felt the cold steel against my lips and tongue.
She was the bright, shining star in my otherwise dark life...
I pulled back the hammer. The metallic click was somehow satisfying in a rather twisted way.
I hope She finds happiness...I hope She lives the life I'd always wanted for her. My love..
A fraction of a second before I pulled the trigger, ripping my life from me and showering the bathroom in blood and pieces of flesh, the phone rang.
It rang... rang... rang...went to the answering machine recording:
"Hey, this is Ben. Can't make it to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you in a flash."
"Hi Ben? This is...well this is Julianna. I'm sorry, I've been out of town on business and missed your calls, but listen, it's really great that you're going to meetings and working to turn your life around. I'm so very proud of you. Ben... I miss you...Baby, I miss you so much. You are all I can think about. I get back into town tomorrow morning and I need to see you. I want to talk...I want to fix this. I want us to be....us again. I love you and I'll see you soon. Bye my love."
The answering machine clicked off...
The photograph slipped from my lifeless fingers, and settled to the floor, floating away in a pool of red.
The clock on the wall chimed 10:00PM.
"My name is Dale and I'm an alcoholic."
I stared at the man across the room. He looked haggard...as if he had been through the depths of hell and back. His face was unshaven. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles. He looked like he'd been wearing the same set of clothing for days. I'm sure he reeked of sweat and booze, but fortunately enough for myself, I was sitting on the opposite side of the circle from him so I smelt nothing. This man was probably a lot of things, but he was no liar. Not tonight...
"Hello Dale", the rest of the group said, almost in unison.
I sat in silence, sipping my lukewarm coffee, wishing I was anywhere but there.
The group chairperson spoke confidently to the group, but his eyes were fixed intently on Dale.
"We welcome newcomers", said the chairperson, whose name was apparently Gordon.
"It's important for you to know that you are not alone Dale. You are among friends here. This is a safe place. That goes for all of you who are here for the first time."
Gordon's gaze turned to me. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room shift in my direction. I dropped my eyes to the floor. My face grew hot and I felt my sweat glands kick into overdrive. In my head, I uttered the words that everyone wanted to hear me say.
Hi. My name is Ben and I am an alcoholic. In my head, I heard their harsh criticisms and disapprovals at the sound of my confession. In my head, I felt my shame... my embarrassment... my utter disgust with myself as I imagined uttering the words they wanted to hear. I kept silent. I lifted my eyes from the floor and glared into Gordon's patient eyes.
"I...I need to go", I said softly. My voice came out sounding high-pitched and shaky. God damned nerves... "I don't belong here", I cleared my throat, stood, and briskly walked out of the room, ignoring the voices behind me telling me that I was in a safe place and imploring me to stay.
I ran from the church and fell to my knees in the parking lot, throwing up bits of that morning's breakfast and the atrocious coffee that I had consumed moments before. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I pulled the half empty flask from my breast pocket and emptied it into my mouth.
As I choked down the golden-brown liquid in painful gulps, my thoughts returned to Her.
My sweet angel...My Julianna... Those green eyes that I had gotten so lost in so many times before...
Those perfect lips that kissed me goodnight and whispered to me that everything would be alright...
That smile that told me she would love me until the end of time...
And her kind, gentle heart that belonged to me and only me until I tore it to shreds and replaced it with a fucking bottle.
Sure, I had a decent job that put food on the table, a decent apartment, good friends, a loving family, but compared to what She did for me...for my heart, nothing else besides that mattered.
That was my reason for the meetings. That was my reason to face my fears and dread and walk through those doors and sit with all the others who were in the same shitty situation as me. That was my reason for sitting through all the testimonials, pretending to listen as I sipped my watered down coffee, never saying a single word to anyone there, and slipping out unnoticed minutes before the meetings concluded. I was going through the motions. To do otherwise would be too painful.
But no more.
No more meetings.
No more putting on a plastic fucking smile and sitting in an uncomfortable metal folding chair surrounded by people who wore the same masks as I did. The only difference between them and me is that they have lines prepared.
Actors with lines...rehearsed and memorized.
Lines to spout out at exactly the right times to collect fake sympathy and fabricated tears from the circle of other actors.
No, this was not the place for me to recover.
The only recovery I needed was in Her arms. And obviously these AA get-together's weren't getting me there.
When I began attending, I even called numerous times to tell Her I was going to meetings...working the twelve steps...making huge steps in the right direction. Every call was met with her answering machine. It tore my heart out even though I knew I didn't deserve any better.
Tuesday 7:45PM
I staggered through my front door. I headed straight for the refrigerator and grabbed a large bottle of Vodka. I scoured the counter for a glass, but gave up after a few seconds and started drinking directly from the mouth of the bottle. My body slid down the side of the counter to the kitchen floor. I took another large gulp and my world spun. I fell into a dark sleep.
I dreamt of Her. I don't remember much, but I remember her sitting next to me smiling, telling me how much I meant to her and how she would love me for the rest of her life. Then she looked at my right hand, a bottle clutched firmly in my grasp. Her smile faded and she stood up and began to walk away. I tried to drop the bottle. Tried to smash it to a thousand fucking pieces on the ground, but it wouldn't leave my hand. Again and again, I involuntarily raised it to my lips and over and over I drank more and more. I glanced up and She was gone. I looked down at the bottle and realized that clutched firmly in my other hand was a pistol. Then the dream faded back into nothingness.
Tuesday 9:30PM
I awoke on the kitchen floor. The bottle had tipped over in my lap, soaking my pants. Whether it was just Vodka or piss or a mixture of both, I do not know. I stumbled shakily to my feet. I made my way to the end-table behind the front door and opened the top drawer. From it, I pulled my .45 automatic hand gun. I'd never used it before...and after tonight, I wasn't planning on ever using it again. With my hands shaking, I loaded one single bullet into the chamber.
My Julianna...My angel...
I set the gun on the toilet seat and peeled off my clothing.
She was my reason for living...
I settled into the tub. In one trembling hand, I held a photo of my princess...in the other, I held the gun.
She was my best friend...
I slid the barrel of the pistol into my mouth...felt the cold steel against my lips and tongue.
She was the bright, shining star in my otherwise dark life...
I pulled back the hammer. The metallic click was somehow satisfying in a rather twisted way.
I hope She finds happiness...I hope She lives the life I'd always wanted for her. My love..
A fraction of a second before I pulled the trigger, ripping my life from me and showering the bathroom in blood and pieces of flesh, the phone rang.
It rang... rang... rang...went to the answering machine recording:
"Hey, this is Ben. Can't make it to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll get back to you in a flash."
"Hi Ben? This is...well this is Julianna. I'm sorry, I've been out of town on business and missed your calls, but listen, it's really great that you're going to meetings and working to turn your life around. I'm so very proud of you. Ben... I miss you...Baby, I miss you so much. You are all I can think about. I get back into town tomorrow morning and I need to see you. I want to talk...I want to fix this. I want us to be....us again. I love you and I'll see you soon. Bye my love."
The answering machine clicked off...
The photograph slipped from my lifeless fingers, and settled to the floor, floating away in a pool of red.
The clock on the wall chimed 10:00PM.
Post Comment | View Comments
