Continued from chapter 16 of the Devastation Series.
…Valerie… I remembered all of her help throughout the day and the importance of her being involved with the passing of Dad. I knew, and it was obvious, that I was not going to hold it together. The funeral was the day after tomorrow, and I needed to sober up by then. “Today is the day,” I tried to convince myself, but quickly failed.
It was the middle of the night when, in between spells, that I remembered I needed to call into work. We had a bereavement policy, which I had never used before. I would have to look up the specific details but I knew that I had at least 3 days off. Which, at that moment, were going to be needed for several reasons. I did still have some vacation time left, but I could not remember how much I had accumulated. It took me quite some time to focus long enough to compose the email. After I finished writing it, I edited it with two different apps to cover up my wandering mind and focused past the double vision. I pressed send and bobbled over to the fridge where I topped off my glass after a swig. “Today can be later,” I reminded myself.
The hangover went away as my body saturated in the burning liquid as it sloshed it’s way to my stomach. I had momentarily given in to self-pity. I thought that I was at rock-bottom and didn’t see any way out other than continuing through. I felt the liquid burn into my stomach and several random things came to mind: Dad’s funeral, my falsified paperwork, my mother baking, and the fishing trip that I shared with Valerie at the hospital. Valerie. Once I thought of her, I depressed myself with feelings of worthlessness. I felt bursts of joy thinking about her friendship and simultaneous hot flashes of shame. I imagined that I had let her down. My father would have been let down. No one would understand. I didn’t understand… thoughts intermixed in my mind like a maze of tangled squiggles with no visible ends.
I sat at the desk and looked at the stack of things that I had tossed in a box from previous sorts. I pulled out the photos and scanned over them. They were dated and it appeared to be a different time. Samuel was smiling. It was the picture that I had placed in my pocket when I first walked through the apartments. I straightened the fold and flipped over the photo of a young woman. “Who are you guys?” I wondered. I flipped through the journals in front of me and wondered what it was like then. I knew things were not simpler. I believed it was a fallacy to think one generation had it worse than another. “We walked uphill in the snow both ways…” had transcended time and upgraded to fit the now. Each generation had it bad in their own way. The troubles of the time were unique to it and that part still applied to today. In a moment’s logic, I realized that I had it just as hard or less than others, it just happened to be mine which made it all the more intense and real. In between the spells, I reminisced about life growing up. Fishing trips with dad, a family vacation, the distance that crept in when we were least expecting it in the form growing up or being older.
While wasting time, I opened my shopping app and ordered another bottle of bourbon. Today was already ruined so, I decided to just forget about as much of it as possible. The drink would be delivered around 10 AM, and I would walk to the door to pick it up. I knew not to drive. I thought back to how long it had been since I binge drank. The last time that I remembered doing that was a time when Maggie had left me. She had blamed me for everything that had gone wrong in her life, so it would have seemed, and I apologetically accepted all of it. The thought made me angry and I swigged from the bottle thinking how wrong she was. “What am I trying to prove?” I asked into the air. Of course, there was no answer, but I was awakening in some aspects while dying in others. Something was happening inside of me. Something deeper than the stupor I was engaging in. I felt like things were going to happen, but I didn’t realize the rollercoaster that it was going to take.
I faded in and out over the night. I tried to watch more videos on Samuel’s Mac, but couldn’t stay awake long enough to get into them. I would start one, and wake up as it was ending. So I abandoned that idea with another drink and soon faded off again. I repeated that cycle throughout the night until the morning came. I had given up on keeping it together by that point and succumbed to alcoholism. Of course, that realization led to even more shame and repeat to the cycles. As the sun lasered into my eyes through the blinds, I saw a text from Valerie. “Are you up?” she asked. I did not reply and rolled over with a moan. The next text was alerting me that my delivery had arrived.
I barely kept it together as the wall kept me straight down the long corridor. I focused foot by foot, one in front of the other outside of the complex. A young man, wearing a hipper than life attitude greeted me. “Get’n into it early eh?” He chucked.
“I never stopped.” I rasped out in a cold monotone admitting it to it out loud. I picked the bag from his hands and teetered left to right back inside. I am sure I heard him scoff at me, but I was hyper-focused on details at the moment. I was possibly reading into something that was not there. My mind was becoming alert with the first physical activity of the day. When I got back inside of 116 I poured a drink from the new bottle. I decided to do spiced rum instead before checking out last night. I remembered ordering but the details were fuzzy at best. The small bag of groceries was a surprise, but the chips served as a breakfast taming the slosh inside of my gut. I grabbed my drink and chips and plopped down at the desk.
Valerie continued to text, or at least that was how it felt. I was ashamed and ghosting her by this point. I suspected that she knew it too. After several open-ended questions without answers, it stopped. I convinced myself that it was for the better. No one would understand me, so I thought, relying on my environmental training. I was just a failure and rock bottom only happened to me. The weight of the burden could almost be felt on my shoulders. Every breath felt like a sigh and every neuron that was firing was against me. I sipped my drink and flipped through the pictures that were piled in a box. Samuel was taking my mind away from the current moments, but that was not solving anything that needed to be solved. I had wished that I found a reason at that moment to carry on.
Hours had passed from my lapses when I jumped up from the couch. An unexpected voice towered over me. “Aaarrrggghhh…” I garbled out. Focusing my eyes I could see long hair draped over a shoulder, the shadows softly painted Valerie’s cheeks and silhouette.
“Consider this your wake up call.” She plainly stated.
“What does that mean?” clearing my throat afterward. Her eyes were full of sadness and it was obvious that she had been crying. “You been crying?”
“Yes. Jake. I have,” she said in a nearly monotone voice, “I didn’t run from it.” The truths hurt, but it was expected. I nodded, knowing that I had that coming. I reached the side table and condensation coldly ran down the glass making a trail. I finished what was in the glass.
“I suppose you came to tell me all of the horrible things…” I started but was cut off.
“Stop it. NOW.” A stern look glazed over her face. “I don’t know why I am here Jake, but I… want to make sure you are alright and not wasting away in a psoriasis dream or something.”
“I don’t know… Val… I… just don’t know…” I stammered out.
“We have a big day tomorrow Jake. YOU, have a big day tomorrow. You need to at least pull yourself together for that.” She pursed her lips. I flopped back into the pillowy cushions of the couch.
“I know…” I felt like I was taking punishment from a parent, but I knew she was not treating it that way. “I’ll straighten up…tomorrow…” I snickered back, testing the waters.
“Okay, Jake. I am holding you to that.” She looked away and around the apartment. “Looks like you got some stuff done…” She tried to meet my sarcasm with the same. I got up and scooted across the floor in my socks, lazily dragging my feet, while I went to the kitchen for a refill. I pulled down another glass and filled it partway adding ice cubes.
“If you’re hanging out with me, I think you need a drink.” She reluctantly took it from my hands and said thanks in a dismissive tone. After a short time, she shot part of the glass and leaned over from the chair and placed it on the corner of the desk. She became intrigued by the desk and moved so she could properly sit at the desk. I stared off into the distance while she rummaged through the contents.
After a few minutes of silence, she called over to me, “Jake… where did you get these photos?” She held up the bent eared pair that I was admiring earlier.
“One of them was in a box, and the other was in another apartment when I checked it out,” I replied. “Several others were just scattered around while I organized the place… er-uh wrecked it, more-alike.” She was studying the materials on the desk and must have read several of the articles. She continued sitting at the desk and sorted for what seemed like a long time, placing a pile on the right-hand side that she had viewed or gone through. She seemed to sort the photos carefully and fancied the dog eared copy. As I finished another glass, everything became intense for me.
“I am sorry Valerie,” I blurted as I began to sob. My hands covered my face while I started to cry. Thoughts of my childhood of my father were sandwiched with his dying face; the pigment fading and the sounds of machines harmoniously whisking him away. I heard coos immediately and leg touching my left thigh as she rushed right beside of me. “Jake… it’s ok…let it out…” She said in a caregiving reassuring voice. I turned my body, hands over face, towards her shoulders and chest. Her arms wrapped around me in a bearhug type posture while she whispered to me, “It is going to be all-right… all-right.” For the next while, I phased in and out. I was awake, sobered up temporarily by the rushes of adrenaline. She soothed me the entire time.
Her hair was thick but flowed over her shoulders with a bounce. I felt a beauty mark on my cheek as I laid into the divot of her well-defined neck. Her voice became a melody after some kind a scent with sandalwood tickled my nose. Her shoulder wet with tears felt like a memory foam pillow. My mind went still and I explored emotions. She told me stories of my father while he worked around the farm. We could both chuckle at the antics he performed while learning the simple life. In my typical father form, he would make the simple… complicated. We covered a decade that evening, weaving in and out of tears and giggles. It was late when I got up to use the bathroom. On my way back, I took a chug from the bottle. “Tomorrow.” Valerie sternly stated.
“Yes ma’am,” I said with a slosh. I made my way back to the couch. While she wasn’t wrapped around me, she sat close turned towards me. I looked over to see a clock, “11:01” rolled before my eyes. The adrenaline was fading and I was more and more out of it. It was then that Valerie told me the story of how she met my father.
While I think she was telling me at that moment, since I must have appeared “not all with it,” but I held on as long as I could to listen. I learned that she was abused by her ex-husband and ran away. She lived close to my dad and they befriended with common interests. She was close to my age, so he treated her like a daughter. Once, her ex became really angry about a miscarriage. She, like many people, thought that maybe a child would change everything. The world became grayer for a long period and he blamed her for everything. She wasn’t healthy enough, or she didn’t do the right steps… was what she shared. Tears slowly came from the corners of her eyes. It was obvious, to me, that it was from the loss of a child not from the ex-husband – or even the treatment that she endured. I felt her elegant fingers in the back of my hair as if combing down a cowlick. Before I blacked out for the night, I remember fading in and out… she talked to me for hours that night.
When I woke in the morning, she was gone. I groggily came to – and curiosity overcame me, “Where is she?” Or perhaps I did not recall the night correctly, I wondered. I wobbly stood up as a sharp pain struck between my eyes forcing an awkward squint. The light seemed so bright. I felt like a new kitten seeing the world for the first time. One with a terrible headache. I reached to the ceiling and twisted side to side to get my body going. I walked to the kitchen and poured a cold glass of water. I pulled the bourbon from the fridge and took a tiny shot to mitigate the hangover. I turned around facing the desk and couch and noticed a note on the counter. I slid the post-note towards me while widening my eyes. I rubbed the sleep out and read the note. It read: Jake – I went to the store to grab a coffee. I needed to move around for a bit. Your couch hurts. I will be back shortly. – V.
I rummaged through the clothes and grabbed a new set of clothes. I grabbed a dressier shift, jeans, and Nintendo socks. I turned on the shower to hot and cracked the bathroom door to keep the steam in. I turned on a 30’s station over the Echo and went to wash off the nights before. I looked towards the couch and could see two impressions. One where I hunkered on the arm as a pillow and another beside where I was. She stayed close all night long. The image softened my mood and shown a void inside of me. I felt a nurtured warmth that I had not experienced in longer than I could recognize. I slid into the bathroom and into the shower. The music echoed in the hollowed-out room and was muffled under the shower spray. I hummed on along to the song. The class rock was one of those radio hits that you would hear in nearly every rotation. I was mostly done when I was startled. “How are you feeling?” The woman’s voice felt stabbing in the steam.
“Je’sus…” I exclaimed, “Alexa – pause…” The streaming stopped.
“You really need to mellow out a bit more dude…” She confidently cast out. I instinctively covered my man parts and coward backward.
“What are you doing?!?!” I echoed in the shower.
“Re-lax, I didn’t come in… I am back with the coffee and we need to get there before any guests.” She coaxed at me. I studied the shapes in the room through the blurry doors to satisfy my insecurity. She was not in the room. “Get a move-on…” She trailed off into the other room. The music started playing again, slightly louder than before.
“Comin’ mo-ther.” I snarkily chuckled. I finished the shower, dried off, and got dressed. “Ugghhh,” came out of my mouth as the clothes stuck to my skin in the steam and wetness. I opened the door and the clouds swirled overhead. The cool ambient air whisked across my face and a sniffle overcame me. I looked out from the doorway and marveled at her for a moment. Leaning on the doorway, I watched her mouth the words to the song and nod along to the music. She was looking at the photos again and taking a couple of pictures of them. “What are you doing?” I broke the silence.
“This photo is interesting to me. So instead of taking it, I just snapped a copy…” Smiling back to me.
I walked out into the main room area and saw the steam dissipate around me. I found a backpack and grabbed a spare set of comfier clothes and put them into it. I imagined that I could change if I got hot with dressier clothes or if I was uncomfortable. I stashed a spare phone charger, and a few other items into the pockets, just in case. When I packed, I always tried to think ahead, though it rarely paid off. Many of the protein bars that I pocketed ended smashed, melted, or some other form of disgusting. The one time it paid off – fed the ongoing contingency planning. I packed one of the journals on the table, not paying attention to what order I pulled from. Just in case… I finished tucking things away and we headed over to the funeral home.
The sun tucked behind the clouds but the heat remained. A humidity that felt like a storm brewing was sitting on us and making moving around miserable. The environmental system in the car ran quite cool – just making the in and out harder to bare. The ride over was calm but the anxiety was mounting for both of us. The music was just a thing in the background. The words didn’t register and the music seemed to fade in and out as cascades of thought rushed in. We pulled into the parking lot and parked near the entrance. We backed in and sat facing the city for a moment. The world pressed on. Masks were donned on faces, and drones continued to circulate the streets. I wondered how the world could continue while this loss was happening? I started imagining my view and my happiness vs. the world and its views. Valerie stirred and we prepared to get out. The wind was calm and outside was balmy. Dark clouds were feathered into the sky and the horizon was dark again. “It can’t rain all the time…” I mumbled with pessimistically.
“But seasons of storms come and go…” Valerie answered. And she was right. Storms just seem to be how it was at that moment.
We were greeted at the door by a man in a classic tuxedo and were shown to a room down a hall to the right. The room was set up for people showing. A light haloed over the casket and a prostrate body was on display. The faded made-up face paled unrecognizably in the light. The coffee-colored casket with a sky blue lining sat half-open in a traditional style showcase. My father froze in a moment of time, eerily still, with cheeks every so slightly drawn in. The observation that I had in the hospital, remained more true at that moment compared to back then. The soul adds definition to a body and without it, the essence of the person is lost.
People came in and shared their love. Friends of Dad’s that we knew and were strangers greeted us and said their goodbyes. The distant family also signed the digital guest log and told quick stories bringing memories to life. It was neat to see Valerie and my life intersect with familiar faces that knew each of us. It made the small world cliche feel very real. We continued greeting and listening to people ramble on with good times until 11:00 AM when a minister friend of the family took the podium beside the casket. He began with a prayer and continued for almost 30 minutes with a precise and colorful eulogy. Time seemed to race by…
The service went fast. I found myself in tangent thoughts from tidbits of stories. The minister would create an opening and I would blaze down a side trail, coming in and out of the service. When it was complete the funeral home emptied and the pallbearers moved the casket to the car. Valerie and I rode in the family car to the cemetery. It was steaming, hot, and cold at the same time. The seats smelled like heated leather and of cheap aftershave. The last portion of the service seemed surreal until I tossed a handful of dirt over the casket in the ground. We stayed around until the last people left and before the teams enclosed the tombs. I don’t remember where the time disappeared to,
The headstone was non-traditional. The stone had the formal marble etchings but also an embedded digital frame. The solar-powered image would change every day and would be altered by his Legacy Site. The stone also had a QR Code installed which would take you to the digital presence of my father. There were many options but we went very traditional: a brief bio, family tree, pictures, and his life’s work and dreams. The Legacy Keepers could alter at any time – but the basics were set up by eulogy and funeral home. As Valerie and I walked away from the pit, a cold and piercing realization happened in an instant. A part of me, too, had died that day, and more was about to… More than I could have ever imagined.
Valerie dropped me off at the apartment. She appeared to be holding it together but needed some time to clear her thoughts and head. I walked into the apartment and tossed my bag near the couch. I opened the door and looked down the hall making sure Valerie had left. I shut the door and opened the fridge and took the cap off the rum. My stomach cramped up with a large amount of alcohol that flooded into my system. I ordered another bottle and went over to the couch until I ran down to pick the bottle up. The day was over in those moments and I lost track of activity and time. I looked at the clock every so often to see hours had passed. I become lost in myself and the bottle for… I was not sure for how long. It had been long enough to finish one bottle.
I do not know what time it was when I heard pounding at the front door. I looked through the peephole and the Police were banging on the door. “Jake open up, we know you’re home buddy…” I panicked, and frantically tried to wrap my mind around the situation, but I could not. I was certain that I was being identified as a squatter. Being away from work – it was probably noticed when researching the lodging situation. A weight smashed into my chest, and I lost my breathing. I had bet it was the ticket that I received. “Was I supposed to appear in court, sh#t… I don’t remember.” I couldn’t think straight. Nothing made sense. In a split-second, I grabbed the bottle, shoved it into my backpack, and fell out of the bedroom window. I realized it was evening and woozily stood. I saw lights in front and decided to dart down the alley. I was not sure what I was doing – but nothing seemed right now.
“What the f*&# is going on?” I hid by a dumper several blocks away. I passed out from stress and alcohol after my heart stopped racing.
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