Chapter 5

I spoke at the first two meetings that I went to.

I was silent at the next twenty. 

I became accustomed to the idea that this was not going to be an easy fix.

The Magic Fridge.

When I was sixteen, my father started calling our fridge the Magic Fridge. 

You just keep eating the food son, because it will refill itself Magically.

What do you mean?

Well, whenever the fridge runs out of food, it just fills itself up magically.

I would laugh at the joke. 

I had seen no connection to my parents working and me being fed.

When I was younger, I would look at all the times in my life that I would fuck up.

For some reason, things still seemed to work out.  Like someone or something was pulling the strings. 

The Magic Life.

Until my twenty-third meeting, I tried not to give too much thought to the concept of God.

Most of these meetings seemed to meet at a church.  It was not a religious organization, but the churches didn’t seem to mind one way or another.

They prey.

They read from their papers.

Does anyone have an issue that they would like to discuss?

An older gentleman raised his hand.

My name is John.

Hi, John.

I wanted to talk about how paramount the concept of finding a higher power is to this organization.

I roll my eyes.

If it wasn’t for my higher power, I am sure that I wouldn’t be standing here today.

I am not angry, but I don’t want to be either.

I get out of my seat.

I put my jacket on and I walk out of the church. 

Not a second after I light my cigarette, an older man walks out of the church doors. 

He also lights a cigarette.

Why did you walk out son?

I hate it when men who are not my father call me son.

I am an atheist.

He smiles.

Is that right?

Yeah, it is.  Is that ok with you?  Or am I kicked out?

He smiles.

Something tells me you’ve gotta’ problem with God.

I can’t have a problem with god because god doesn’t exist.

He smiles.

If I see him smile at me again I will snap, so I look somewhere else.

Above the church doors, there is a rather large wooden cross mounted atop of the roof. 

I have seen a cross just like that somewhere.

Blessed Sacrament Church.

The church itself was attached to a number of buildings.

These buildings served as a school when the Church itself was not holding services.

My first years of learning took place in these buildings.

Every Wednesday, Mrs. Thomas would have us form a single file line in front of the classroom door.

She would lead the line through the halls to the entrance of the Church.

We would sit in the wooden pews and listen to the man in a robe talk about a man with a beard. 

He would talk about what the man with a beard said to the people that listened. 

Above the man in the robe, hanging from the church’s ceiling, the man with a beard was outstretched on a cross. 

He was dead.

My classmates would read from a book in front of the entire school. 

The rest of my classmates would listen.

I would look at the stained glass that lined the walls.

Did the man with a beard paint the glass?

The man in the robe would tell us to stand.

My classmates would stand.

I remained seated.

The man in the robe would tell us to kneel.

My classmate would kneel.

I remained seated.

The man in the robe would tell us to sit.

My classmates would sit. 

I was already seated.

I would watch the others.

I was always reminded of C-3PO from Star Wars.

Near the end of each Wednesday service, my classmates would stand in their pews and form a line leading to the front of the church.

I would remain seated.

I would watch as my peers got their crackers and juice. 

I would remain seated.

Sometime before this I had raised my hand during class and asked why I was not allowed to have the crackers and juice.

Mrs. Thomas smiled.

Because you haven’t been christened.

I never understood what being dumped in water had to do with crackers and juice.

My classmates seemed to know the answer to this question, because every day during recess they would form a group and sing a song about how I was going to hell.

They were very creative. Every day the song would have a different melody. 

Some of the songs were quite catchy.

They were catchy enough that they remained in my head.

Uh oh!

Recess is done!

They rang the bell!

But Chad is still going to hell!

I looked at the man outside the door of the church smoking a cigarette.

As I looked into his eyes, I flicked the cigarette into the churchyard.

I turned around and walked home.

Chapter 4

The next meeting I go to is across from the Franklin Park Mall.

It’s not called the Franklin Park Mall.  While I was away from home, a large corporation came into town and bought it out and changed the name.

Westfield Shopping Center.

It’s a chain of malls.

I know this because there is one in Sarasota, Florida.

I think maybe they were afraid people would overlook it because it contained the word park.  No one goes to the park anymore. 

Nobody I know at least.

When I moved into an apartment with Her, my parents gave us a puppy.  She would take him to the park.  She always asked me to go, but I had never wanted to.  One week before I left Her, I went to the park with Her and Albus.

I sat on the bench and watched other, much older people, play with their dogs. 

I sat on a bench and watched Her play with our dog. 

She was wearing a green hooded sweatshirt and a pair of jeans.  She also had a pink scarf wrapped twice around her neck.  I watched Her for almost five minutes.

It was at around five minutes that I noticed She didn’t have her purse.

Her purse was in the car.

I told Her that I was going to run and grab us two coffees and be back in ten minutes.

Two hours later, it was dark and I had left Her sitting on that bench with Albus at the park.

I was passed out in the front seat of the car, which was parked at Westfield Shopping Center.

Her purse was still lying in the back.

A small flame was suddenly thrust into my face. 

Someone had noticed the cigarette hanging from my mouth as I stared across the street at a mall.

Thanks.

He smiled and walked into the set of the doors.

This meeting was smaller than the last.  There were around 12 people, and all them were young. 

They prey.

They read from their papers.

Does anyone have an issue that they would like to discuss?

They talk about their steps. 

They talk about what their life was.

They talk about how they made it better. 

I don’t listen. 

A young man shares something about a dream he had in which he was using. 

Mine was worse than his. I can tell.  He has been smiling almost the whole meeting.

This is childsplay.

I’m Chad.

Hi, Chad. I jump at the sound of my own name.

I look at the dreamer.

How long have you been sober?

9 months.

I looked past him out the window at the Westfield Shopping Center.

Are you fuckers telling me that I have to come to these rooms for more than 9 months in order to stop having those kinds of dreams?

They laugh. 

I don’t.

Does anyone want to field that fucking question?  Or should I ask one of you specifically.

A bearded man smiles at me.

That really pissed me off.

How long did it take you to lose control?

I don’t want to answer him.

Silence.

Do you have some serious problems in your life right now?

I looked past him out the window at the Westfield Shopping Center.

Did you start coming to these fucking meetings while you were on a winning streak?

He still had a smile on his face.

And I was still really pissed off.

Well what I would tell you is that all you need to do is stay sober tonight.

My hands are trembling with rage.

I am done talking.

The meeting ends, I stand up and leave as they hold hands and pray.

I open the door to walk outside.  A kid in his late twenties is standing outside.

Hi, my name is Brett.

Hi.

We shake hands.

Here’s my number, call me tomorrow. I’ll get you started.

I know he isn’t interested in my response because he leaves before I can say anything.

This asshole is dreaming if he thinks I am going to call him.

But I did.

Chapter 3

I was driving with Her in the passenger seat.  She was looking out of Her open window at the clouds surrounding the sun.  Her short, blonde curly hair was blowing lightly in the wind. Words like ‘beautiful’ and ‘elegant’ don’t do justice to what I am witnessing at this moment.

Somehow, I know we are driving to the swimming pool.

I didn’t have swimming trunks, but it didn’t matter because there was no water in the pool anyway. 

I hate swimming.

Small children holding hands, forming a circle around the pool, were staring at me. 

They all had dark, curly hair. 

They all had light brown eyes. 

They were all the same person.

But somehow, they were all different.

They seemed to be trying to tell me something with their eyes.

Welcome.

One of the children must have known I was coming, because he replaced the water with Oxycontin.  Somehow, I know which one he is. He is smiling as I looked to him.

I jump in headfirst.

As little green pills slowly engulf my body, I feel like I am drowning. But there was no panic.

No objection.

I wake up, but I do not open my eyes. 

With my fingers, I feel if there is anything in my hands. 

Nothing.

I slowly open my right eye and look down at my hands.

Nothing.

I hate my hands.

They should have been able to grab onto one of those pills and bring it back with me. 

I hate my hands.

I want to punish them, but I won’t give them the satisfaction.

I get up and grab the lighter from atop my desk.

I flick it and let the flame resonate for exactly sixty seconds.

I press the hot iron of the lighter against my right arm. 

I can feel it burn.

I release myself from the burn as my father opens my bedroom door.

Good, your up.

Yeah.

I wanted to know your plan.

Plan?

Yeah, how are you going to fix this?

I don’t know. 

Well maybe your plan for today should be going about figuring it out.

Maybe.

Well, you are definitely going to another meeting.

I don’t argue because I know he has me by the balls. I haven’t seen my mother since I got home.

And she can’t know the aspirin incident.  If she did know, I would not be able to look her in the face.

That is the most important thing in my life.

She can’t know.

Ok, I’ll go.

Well come have breakfast with your mother before she goes to work.

I follow my father upstairs.

My mother is at the table, looking down at an untouched plate of bacon and eggs.

I sit down to her right.

Good morning, Mom.           

She turns to her right, and looks at me.

Her open palm came too fast. 

I couldn’t avoid it.

Silence.

She stands up and puts on her jacket as if nothing had happened.

There is a single tear running down her cheek.

As she walks out, I stare down at her untouched plate of bacon and eggs, which were as cold as she was.

I need to fix this. 

Chapter 2

They tell me that they know what I am going through.

They tell me I have an obsession of the mind.

What they say I forget 30 seconds after they say it. I sit there and barely listen as I think about my parents’ medicine cabinet.

My blood is itchy.  My skin pays the price.

The meeting ends, I stand up and leave as they hold hands and pray.

People follow me and give me pieces of paper with their phone numbers on it.  I take them knowing that I will not call them.

Just don’t use tonight. 

Ok. 

I walk out the door and see my father’s car.  All I want to do is get in that car, but people feel the need to interrupt my walk. I want nothing to do with these people.

The way home is silence.

As we walk inside my father tells me to get some sleep. 

Ok.

Just don’t use tonight.

Ok.

He walks up the stairs.

I watch TV until the spaces between movement upstairs grows to a point where they may be asleep.

My assault on the medicine cabinet heeded nothing of use.

I look under the counter.  They have removed the liquor besides two bottles of wine.  I imagined them thinking that I wouldn’t be that desperate, that I wouldn’t touch the bottles due to a fear of them noticing.

I can’t find a wine opener so I use a knife to get the cork out.

Both bottles are empty in five minutes. 

It isn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

I lie on my bed and stare at my cell phone. She bought it for me.

It rings. It’s her.

I called to tell you that the rest of your stuff is at your grandparent’s house.

How was school today?

Good. 

How is the puppy?

Albus is good.

Does he miss me?

Did you drink tonight?

No.

I have to go.

She hangs up because she has the belief that saying goodbye to somebody on the phone is redundant.  That hanging up serves the same purpose. 

I can’t sleep, so I think.

I think, so I can’t sleep.

I get out of my bed and head to the kitchen.

All the poison has been removed from underneath the sink.

I look into the medicine cabinet again, still nothing of use.

I get back to my bedroom and lay on my bed.

I look up at the ceiling. 

There is something written.  I put on my glasses.

Your low self-esteem is just good common sense.

I fall asleep and I dream of Her.

And I am glad that I don’t know the future.

Because if I would of known that I would dream of Her every night for six months, my search for poison under the sink wouldn’t have stopped so quickly.

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Wake up.

I open my eyes and look into my father’s as he looks back at me.

I turn around.

Wake up.

Why?

I am taking you somewhere.

I don’t want to go anywhere.

Too bad. You either come with me now, or you go to the crazy bin.

He’s got me by the balls. I hate hospitals.

Fine, give me a minute to get up.

He leaves the light turned on as he walks out of the door and up the stairs.

I put my shoes on before I put my pants on. I would of laughed at myself two years ago.  I despise the fact that I do these things today.

I put on a pair of jeans, a white t shirt, and put my shoes back on.  As I walk out of the downstairs bedroom, I grab my pair of Aviator sunglasses that I have had for two years.

Two years of not looking people in the eye.

I find my dad by the front door.

Let’s go.

We drive down the Toledo, Ohio road. It’s dark. Businesses are still open.  It is 7:45 p.m.

Where are we going?

You will see.

Silence.

We pull into a church. I know where I am.

I really don’t feel comfortable doing this Dad.

Your not supposed to.  Anyway, you make it through this first one, I won’t tell your mom about last night.

He’s got me by the balls.

What do I do?

Go in and tell people about the last 24 hours.

I shut the car door and start walking towards the church.

People tried to shake my hand. I walk past them. 

I walk through a set of double doors. I look to my right; there is a large room with people sitting in chairs. Could be 75 people. Could be 100.

I walked into that room with nothing but my jeans, my t-shirt, and my Aviator sunglasses.

I sit down. I am not going to say anything.

They prey. I am not going to say anything.

They read from their papers. I am not going to say anything.

Does anyone have an issue they would like to discuss.

I am not going to say anything.

Silence.

My name is Chad.

Hi Chad. The response shakes me up.

My father told me to come in and tell you people about the last 24 hours.

I look somewhere other than my feet.

I am 22 years old. I just got off of a Greyhound bus. I’ve lost my fiancé. I’ve lost my car. I’ve lost my apartment. 

In the last seven months I’ve made 70 thousand dollars.

In the last seven months I have lost 80 thousand dollars.  Cocaine and Oxycontin is expensive.

I look back down at my feet.

I tried to kill myself last night by taking a bottle of aspirin.

My hands are shaking.

My father told me to tell you people about the last 24 hours. It was this or the psyche ward.  And I sure as shit am not going there. So here I am.

Silence.