The Drunk Logs (10 page)

The tobacco leaves crackled as I lit my cigarette and felt the smoke roll down my throat and into my lungs. I put away my lighter, careful not to burn my pants with the lit cigarette, situated my ass one more time on the edge of the picnic table, and watched the bubbles float away from the fountain in the pond. With a few deep breaths, I felt the thump of my heart, and heard the rustle of the grass behind me as the table creaked from a heavy weight.

“So what did you think of Dr. Lyedecker?” Sam asked.

I stared at the bubbles and released another cloud of smoke. “It seems like he’s tired of looking at Jack Jack,” I said as I yawned and moved next to Sam.

“In a way, Lyedecker is right, Matt.”

“I know…it’s like training a dog not to run in the middle of the street. The only way that it will learn is when the car kills it.”

“I think there’s something wrong in his head. I mean, he says and does these crazy things without thinking.” Sam’s voice got fast and shaky. “But then he’s been like that since I’ve been here. So I don’t know if it’s just him or what? The way he was looking at Lyedecker…it looked like he was going to kill him.”

Sam was allowed to have his own opinion of Jack Jack, but I thought otherwise. Somehow, I felt a connection to him. I understood his sense of longing to belong, doing and saying things that seem insane to others, but sane to him. Grasping at friendships and pushing them away. But I could not reveal my emotions. My shell had been erected far too long, to be let down in just a few days.

Sam lit a cigarette and spat the fresh mucus from his mouth. Both of us stared out into the distance in silence, when the sound of cornhole sacks hit the plywood platform and echoed through the field.

“To all patients, Big Book lecture will start in 10 minutes; Big Book lecture will start in 10 minutes.” The intercom voice had become familiar.

“What the hell is ‘Big Book?’” I asked.

“It’s one of the longer lectures we have and is actually pretty good. It gives you direction and tells you how you’re supposed to live your life. Do you have your book?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s in your nightstand, but they have extra ones at the lecture you can use. Just make sure that you bring the book whenever we have these lectures. It’s the only thing that’s free here.”

Our two lit cigarette buds still burned in the plush grass as we walked down the path, and I began to remember how nervous I had been when I entered the hospital. I embraced the kindness that the patients here had shown me and took a quick look at Sam and smiled.
It made it much easier when you had something in common with people
, I thought.

As we sat next to each other in the nearly full auditorium, I noticed that even the completely stoned detoxers had found their way in. Shorty, Shawn, Father Tom, and Bobby were scattered in front of Sam and I, while Victoria took her usual place across the aisle from me, and concentrated on my every movement. We laughed, told stories, and enjoyed every possible moment as though it was our last, oblivious to the fact that Jack Jack was nowhere to be found.

“Isn’t it a great day to be sober?” a voice echoed throughout the auditorium.

“Yes!” the patients screamed, which caused the detoxers to waken from their delirium.

“Isn’t it a great day to be sober?” the voice screamed again.

“Yes!”

Just then a medium-built man with a crew cut, looking like a politician, stood. His tie was pulled down and his sleeves were rolled up from a white collared shirt. He had the face of a military man, chiseled to show the outline of his jaw and blank stare.

“My name is Brian, for the ones who do not know me, and for the ones who do, keep coming back.”

His normal speaking voice did nothing to match the impression he made. It was soft and melodious, almost hypnotic.

“I would like you to open your Big Books and turn to the first page. If you do not have a Big Book, there are a couple available up front or you can share with the person sitting next to you.”

The seats that were once empty next to the people who had been alone were now filled. A feeling of camaraderie filled the room. Our once selfish ways did not exist between these walls, and the care that had been shown to us was now being carried to each other. The feeling of family was overwhelming in this new society where everyone worked toward one goal, together as a group.

“I want everyone to turn to the first page of the book,” Brian said as he paced back and forth.

“You mean page one or the preface part?” a voice echoed from the back.

“The very first page, when you open the book.”

The paper shuffling continued as patients mumbled to one another.

“Now, what do you see on the first page?”

From the patients came a universal look of confusion.

“Nothing, it’s blank,” the same voice echoed from the back.

“Exactly, it’s blank. That’s because your life at the present has nothing in it, and when you start to turn the pages you will grow to understand what you need to do in life, in order to be fulfilled. This is a new beginning for all of you and this book, for many people, is the bible. It contains people who have different stories to tell, but these stories are very similar to yours. That their lives have become unmanageable, but through the grace of some higher power and this book, they were able to turn their lives around. This is why I ask of you to read, even if it is only a couple pages a day. That you may come to understand this disease does not only affect you, but many who are very similar to you. Let’s start with page 281. Anyone start reading.”

The hour and a half seemed to last only fifteen minutes as I sat quietly. With so many emotions to choose from, I was afraid to choose just one.

“If you plan to sit there all night, I’ll come back with a pillow,” Sam quipped.

“Oh, sorry, Sam, I must have been day dreaming.”

“So, what are you going to do now?”

“I’m just going to go back to my room and relax. I have to see the doctor again tomorrow, to see if I can get this detox band removed. What are you going to do?”

“I’ll probably go up and get a snack and watch some television,” Sam said as he rubbed his stomach.

“You guys have TV up there?”

Sam smiled, “Yep, and a kitchen nook with food.”

“Son of a bitch,” I said as I tensed my lips.

We passed the doors that led outside and noticed that the halls seemed quieter now. We had lasted another day.

Sam turned and pushed the button on the elevator and pointed to his wrist. “Well, maybe I’ll see you upstairs tomorrow, if you’re red band free?”

“I hope,” I called and entered my room.

Barry Eugene was nowhere in sight, but I checked the bathroom just to be sure. “Ah, empty and clean,” I whispered.

I strolled over to my nightstand and pulled open the drawer, where a heavy, brand new, as if it had just come off the presses, Big Book stared back at me. I sat down at the edge of the bed and started to thumb through the pages.

“Man, it sure is a lot of reading,” I whispered. “Oh well, at least it will pass the time I’m spending here.”

“I was wondering where you have been,” Barry Eugene said as he entered the room.

“Oh, uh, I just came in for a second. I have to go, uh, down to the nurses’ station to get my medication.” I felt uneasy lying, but I was just not ready for Barry Eugene.

For a while I walked in the hall aimlessly, and put up a façade of friendly smiles and hellos to the aliens I didn’t know, when I lost my energy to prolong my act and I decided to check with the nurse.
It couldn’t hurt
, I thought.

A group of patients, as usual, had multiplied by the nurses’ station to get their medication, when Victoria strolled out of the mass.

“Hi, Matt,” she said with glee.

“Hello, Victoria,” I returned the greeting.

“So are you heading to get your recommended daily dose of drugs?”

“Yeah, I decided to check, before the intercom plasters my name all over the halls.”

“Well, I’ll walk with you, I haven’t really gotten the chance to talk to you and those Neanderthals aren’t a very good group to talk around. So what brings you here to this fine establishment?”

My hormones were in high gear, and I knew I would struggle to resist my sexual needs.

“I’m here for alcohol, and as you can tell by my face, I’m allergic to it,” I said, embarrassed as I pointed to my face.

“Yeah, but the swelling has gone down from the first time I saw you. You’re starting to look better,” she said as she caressed my face with her fingers.

“So why are you here?” I asked her.

“Well, I’ll give you the quick version from my assessment. I’m here for alcohol and opiates, 35 years old, never been married, an elementary schoolteacher and have a problem with getting into the wrong relationships, which leads me to my use. At least that is what my assessment told me.”

On occasion, I had been known to be blatantly straightforward, so I blurted out a question. “So, why do they call you Squirrel?”

“Because, it’s some stupid nickname that Jack Jack came up with when I wouldn’t go along with his advances…the pig.” Her voice became strained and agitated. “He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.”

“So, how long are you here for?” I asked, trying to diffuse the tension.

“40 days.”

“Sounds like you got a lot in front of you?”

“Yeah, but at least I’m alive.”

Victoria wasn’t at all what I’d envisioned, and was actually quite the opposite.

We stopped by the half-door, when I poked my head inside the nook and noticed that it was empty.

I turned back and smiled at Victoria. “Well, this is my stop. Maybe we can talk some more, you know, away from the group.”

“That would be nice,” Victoria said, looking as if she wanted a goodbye kiss. “I’ll see you around.”

Left alone, I let my imagination run free.

“You know the rules, Matt,” Molly said from behind the half-door.

Startled, I felt my face redden.

“How may I help you?” She smiled.

“I was just checking to see if you guys needed to see me again, before I get ready for bed.”

“Well, aren’t we the conscientious one? Let me see,” she said as she thumbed through her clipboard. “You’re in luck; we do need to see you one more time. You know the drill.”

I extended my wrist as Molly checked my numbers. She pulled the door open and checked off my name. I wandered over to the blood pressure machine and slid the belt on myself; she adjusted it, and pushed the start button. A beep sounded, and the air slowly hissed from the belt. She leaned over and checked the reading.

“You definitely have shown some improvement these last couple of days. You’re high again, but there is nothing to worry about as long as you take your medication.”

As she prepared my medication, I lowered my head and stared at my quivering hands. Oh, how many times they have made me feel weak and infantile. I brooded, as my pride and defiance began to take hold. With one swift motion, I grabbed the cup with two fingers and gulped my medication. Confident, I took a few deep breaths and tried to calm my pounding heart.

I headed toward the door, but before I left, Molly’s voice projected from the back, and offered a few words of wisdom.

“Pleasure cannot be shared; like pain, it can only be experienced or inflicted, and when we give pleasure to our lovers or bestow charity upon the needy, we do so not to gratify the object of our benevolence, but only ourselves. For the truth is, that we are kind for the same reason as we are cruel, in order that we may enhance the sense of our own power.”

I turned and stared at Molly, confused.

“You thought I was some backwater hick, didn’t you?

Embarrassed, I nodded my head yes.

“Aldous Huxley is the author,” she said. “Remember why you are here.”

Her expression became that of concern, like a mother as she lets her child go alone into the world. Many a diseased she had seen walk through these doors, confused by these old and new emotions that played in the body and the mind. But only a select few, who were sincere, did appreciate the gift laid before them.

“Good night, Molly.”

“Good night, Matt.”

As I walked confident through the line of patients at the meds window, I noticed Bobby and decided to have a little fun.

“Bruce Lee,” I yelled.

“Peter Pumpkin Head,” returned Bobby.

“Asshole,” we both said and laughed as I passed.

My smile grew wider with every step, and then I realized that Barry Eugene waited for me. But I felt too proud and cocky, and refused to let him ruin my mood.

I entered the room and decided to take first crack at him as he lay on his bed, in hope to throw him off guard.

“Hey, Barry Eugene. You’re going home tonight, right?”

Stunned, Barry Eugene couldn’t believe that he’d forgot.

“Yeah. Going home. The nurse said she was going to look in on it. That’s what all those people down at the end of the hall are waiting for. They probably need to make sure there’s enough room for everyone. I hope that it’s not a lot of people in the druggy buggy. I get sick when there are a lot of people in the car. Hell, I got sick on the way up here, because my wife wouldn’t roll down the windows,” Barry Eugene mumbled.

I walked over to the closet, unlocked it, and pulled out my pajamas for the night. I took off my shirt and folded it neatly on the bed as Barry Eugene looked cautiously from his side of the room. As I slid on my t-shirt, I reached over to the closet, pulled out my hygiene tote, and threw it on the bed. Still oblivious to Barry Eugene, who watched my every movement, I removed my pants, hung them on a hanger, and was amazed by how much my stomach and breasts had grown.

“Hey, Barry Eugene, my air bag is fully deployed,” I said as I grabbed my stomach with both hands.

“Whoa. Stop right there. You’re not one of them faggots, are you?” he said as he started to shimmy over to the far side of his bed.

“Sure, Barry Eugene. I’m just crazy in love with old men who shit their pants,” I said as I pulled up my pajama bottoms.

He pushed himself out of bed, limped toward the hallway, and nervously stared as I flipped the comforter open.