Drifting
by Andrew Stromberg
Rain pours on me as I lift my head up from the concrete. The bartender must have decided that I had enough to drink tonight. A drunken haze fogs my brain as I turn my head around to look at the big bright neon sign behind me, The Drifter, fancy bar name, but that must be just the right place for someone like me. I struggle to remember how I got here, but as each raindrop falls on me I feel like a little bit of my drunkenness gets washed off, and soon I feel clear enough to try to stand. Aches throughout my body briefly hold me from lifting myself up; it felt like I just ran a marathon before ending up blacked-out on the street like a corpse. Once I’m up, I check my nose and mouth to make sure I’m not bleeding, it feels like I hit the ground hard. Did I really get thrown out by the bartender? Did I just stumble over myself on the way out like an idiot? I’ll probably need to wait until I’m more sober to answer those questions. Surely there must be a taxi somewhere so I can get home. Where is home? I have no idea, and I better remember soon. I look around. Nothing. The city is quiet all around me. No noise, no one, no way home.
With heavy, sore legs I begin my trek to find a taxi driver willing to drive a bumbling, drunk mess such as myself. I stumble through the streets alone. Something is weighing on my mind, but I can’t seem to figure out what it is. Whatever it is, it’s trying to keep me from something, it’s making me walk with less purpose. I power through nonetheless, no matter how hard I must drag my legs forward.
Each neon sign I pass feels like a spotlight putting me on display to anyone who may be watching outside their window. I hate all these lights. I’d rather sink into the shadows and vanish tonight. The lights only get worse as I approach the cinema, The Daydream near the bar. I’ve only been there a few times to unwind after work, but eventually the bar became my preferred, and only, resting place.
The cinema had this abrasive pink movie poster on one of its walls, The Trouble With Hating You. It looks like one of those movies where you can guess how the entire plot line unfolds, and the only reason for going to see it would be to prove that your guesses were right. Afterwards you can have a laugh with your friends who never had any interest in seeing it about how much it sucked. Movies like that have no real value, they just suck so that everything else can suck a little less. For some reason, though, I can’t stop looking at the poster, it’s making me remember this afternoon.
”Look, I am tired of doing everything around here while all you do is drink yourself to death!” Ah, I remember, I was at the bar a little later tonight because I had a huge fight with my wife when I came home. How did it go again? Right. I think she said something like: “I’ve been waiting tables all day because you can’t even hold a job anymore, can’t you do one thing to help out here? Not to mention I have to take care of the kids, I have to clean up after them… Oh, and when you eventually show up you need me to fix you something to eat. You get me up at 11:00 and ask me to make you a grilled cheese, and then I get all tired for work the next day. That sound fair to you? Hell, I even do the stupid taxes here because you are never here to do anything! So yeah, that’s why I’m filing for divorce, how on earth are you surprised by this?”
“Don’t give me that! Back when all you did was sit and watch TV I was working myself sick each day! And when I got home, who would show me the latest new necklace in the magazine and ask me to get it? Oh, right, that was YOU. So forgive me for finally being able to treat myself and god forbid you finally manage to get off your ass for once in your life!”
“What do you mean by that? Do I mean nothing to you anymore? Do your kids mean nothing? What else am I supposed to think!? You haven’t spoken a single word to them in a week!”
”Don’t bring them into this!”
”I’ll do whatever I want,” she swiveled her head to the stairwell, where the kids were sleeping, “HEY KIDS! GUESS WHAT! YOUR DAD JUST GOT FIRED AGAIN! THIRD TIME THIS MONTH! THAT’S GOTTA BE A NEW RECORD FOR HIM, RIGHT?!”
“Shut. Up. You’ll wake them!”
“No, you shut up. I’m too sick and tired to want anything to do with you. Ever.” It seemed like she let all of her anger out, but she wasn’t done yet. She took a deep breath and then added, “you should leave now, you’re not welcome in this house anymore.”
”That’s absurd! I live here!”
”Yeah? It surely doesn’t seem like you do, so get out!”
Minutes felt like hours when we were at each other’s throats. I’m not a quitter, or anything, but I didn’t have it in me to continue that argument anymore, so I left with my middle finger in the air followed by a loud door slam. As much as I wanted to drink away the words she told me, she was right. I looked away from the poster, as I now began to realize how much it was stinging my eyes.
My wandering takes me to an empty alley. No lights touch this corner of this city. The alley looks like a black hole, and if I went in I would never leave. Its emptiness somehow disturbs me more than the blinding cinema lights, so I turn my head away. As I do so, I hear a click.
“Wallet. Now.” A jittery male voice orders behind me.
I turn around to try to fight this robber but I immediately feel the urge to comply when I feel the cold butt of a pistol slap my face and fall beside a dumpster in the alley. The rain now feels like it’s pouring on me unnaturally harder. I check my mouth. This time there is blood.
“Don’t be a hero, just give me your wallet!”
Looking up I see a shadowy silhouette of a skinny man pointing his gun at my head. His gun is shaking, but not out of fear. His voice didn’t sound scared. This robber must be an addict, and my money must be going towards his next fix.
I slowly reach my hand into my coat pocket and pull out my wallet. I don’t think the robber was convinced I was handing him my wallet, though, because the moment my wallet exited my pocket I felt a searing pain ripping through my abdomen.
”Hello? Are you okay? What’s your name?” After the gunshot only one person showed up to help the man who was shot. She was a college student who happened to be walking in the area when it happened. The 911 dispatcher told her an ambulance was on its way and instructed her to stay with the victim. She turns on her phone flashlight to check on the man. His hand and the lower half of his shirt were completely soaked in blood.
”Eugene,” He had to use all of his strength to form that one word.
“I’m Cecilia. Everything’s going to be okay! Hang in there!”
Eugene wanted to follow her advice, but found it increasingly difficult to keep his hand on the wound. As his hand slipped off his body the cold rain washed away the warm blood pouring out of him, forming a red puddle where he was lying.
Cecilia was mortified at how much blood Eugene lost in a single instant. Her thoughts quickly became clouded with is he going to die? Will covering his wound even save him? What if I do it wrong? Will I get in trouble if I mess up? He’ll die unless I do something! She froze. All she could do was watch Eugene try to wriggle his frail hand back onto his wound.
It grew harder and harder for Eugene to think, but all he could do now was reflect. He reflected on his kids who he hardly saw. He reflected on every time he got fired for showing up late, or drunk, or aggressive for no reason. He reflected most on what he said to his wife earlier that day, the way he slammed the door and swore to never come back. That will be my last conversation with her, he thought, that will be the last thing she’ll remember of me.
Cecilia couldn’t stay inactive any longer having noticed that Eugene’s head had started to hang heavy. She sprung her hands towards him and pressed them deep on his abdomen as if she was trying to force all of his blood back inside. No no no no no no don’t die! You’re going to live, I promise. I promise!
Eugene’s body began to feel light, I should have stayed with her, and my kids.
I should have done something sooner.
I didn’t want this to end like this.
Please forgive me.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.