DIVINE NECTAR
My eyes opened to a darkened room, decorated with last night’s ventures. The empty beer bottles add to the decorum of a pitiful gathering. Trying to escape last night’s angry shadow, I survey the room, validating the reality of what I thought to be surreal, distant and nightmarish.
The stench of the countless cigarettes I smoked (as usual, when I'm hammered) spilled out from the ashtray that always seemed too small.
"What have I done this time?"
This was a question only too familiar to me.
After checking my knuckles for bruises, I inspect the room, carefully distinguishing mess from destruction. After reassuring myself that I had not been violent during yet another black-out session, I crept around the remainder of the house, in search of her....
Once again, that unsettling feeling of uncertainty tugged at my soul, while wrestling my consciousness. My only relief was in finding her alive, unhurt and watching television in the living room. But the expression on her faced showed me that she was obviously pissed.
I could smell the foulness of my liquored breath, as I managed a barely audible mumble of "Mo'ning".
No response.
I slunk away, riding on the guilt of knowing that I had done wrong
"My binges are becoming more frequent,” I thought to myself. "And my excuses for drinking are getting more ridiculous. It’s coming to the point where every aspect of my life is an excuse to drink, be it hard days or celebrations. It’s all the same. My daily budget and routine both stockpile time and money solely for drinking. Drinking without deviation. The only thing I stick to."
The creaking floor pronounced her presence. And brought me once again back to reality.
With swollen, reddened eyes, she entered our alcoholic, battle-ridden bedroom, and it was through her eyes that I experienced my guilt.
Beer caps, brown bottles and empty packs of Newports, my calling card.
I could not see or hear past her sobbing, and could offer neither resolution or explanation for my actions last night.
I couldn’t remember them!
I merely stood there, as if observing the scenario through a TV screen, witnessing her hurt, pain and defeat so clearly. Her face descriptive in its ____ [adjective] expression, her pleading, teary eyes declaring their love. However, her stinging tears held no further tolerance. I knew, though, that alcohol was my lode and everything else in my life was just in support of that lode. This included her.
Sitting there on the stoop, I watched in disbelief as the yellow cab pulled away, taking my love, my friend and lover. All that was left of our union were the tiny pockets of exhaust fumes.
He didn't have to drive away that fast.
I closed the door to lock out the reality of life. To hide my little secret as I drunk myself back to that fantasy world, returning once again to the devices of my destiny.
Withdrawing from the refrigerator, thinking to myself, (while opening my morning pick- me-up), "Maybe I need to finally give up drinking?"
"Maybe tomorrow .....................maybe..."