The Drunk Logs (18 page)

I carefully picked my path, as I scouted to find any patients that were free from the onslaught, when I noticed Sam and Victoria alone at the picnic table beside the cornhole platforms. I dodged and weaved and made a beeline toward Sam and Victoria. I never made eye contact with the enemy and always kept a safe distance to avoid any shrapnel that might find its mark.

“Is it safe to sit down?” I asked.

“As far as we know, we haven’t triggered any booby traps,” Victoria said as she slid over.

I sat down and lit a cigarette. Through my billowed smoke, the friends, mothers, fathers, wives, and children continued to be stern, but seemed also to be caring in their anger. They stood outside the shield erected by the addict, battled its unwarranted advances, and tried to see the individual behind the stranger that stood before them. They were not the enemy; they were the ones who truly cared, but had been shoved aside for a new friend. A part of me longed to have someone visit, but my shield protected me from feeling too alone.

“I can’t believe how many people are here,” I said.

“Well, if you figure how many patients are here and double or even triple it, it makes for a pretty big crowd.” Sam, bored, flicked a piece of splintered wood from the table. “It would be the most opportune time for someone to escape, if they wanted to.”

“Someone has,” Victoria said.

Sam and I both looked at her.

“And?”

“It was a while ago. One of the heroin addicts couldn’t take it anymore and just walked out the front door. But to her stupidity, she didn’t take into account that there is nothing around here for a good five miles in any direction. When they realized it, she was already gone a few hours. They found her curled up in a ball by the side of the road, only a half mile away from the nearest gas station.”

“What did they do with her?” I asked, enthralled by the story.

“Nothing. The police who picked her up found out she had warrants for her arrest and took her away.”

“She would have been better off here. At least she would have been medicated,” Sam said as we agreed.

Silence took over again as we fidgeted in our seats from boredom.

“Let’s play cornhole or something before lecture,” Sam said.

“All right, but first let me go and get a pop from the vending machine.” I stood and started to walk over to the entrance.

“I’ll go with you,” Victoria added, as Sam sat back down at the table and lit another cigarette.

As we walked down the path, I pulled out my wallet.

“It’s a dollar twenty-five,” Victoria said, as she kept up.

“A dollar twenty-five, when you can buy a two liter at the store for a dollar,” I said disgusted. “This place costs enough money and they still want more.”

“If you want, you can get juice from the cafeteria,” she said, as I held the door open.

“No, I feel like some sugar and caffeine.”

The halls were empty, except for a few families we saw along the way who seemed to be trying desperately to camouflage their existence and blend into the vanilla walls. The halls were not sanitized enough for them; they looked afraid that our disease might spread to them.

“So how do you like your stay so far, Matt?”

“You know, I don’t have anything to compare it to. The first couple of days are a complete haze of booze, pills, shit…and ghosts.”

For a moment, I was lost in my memories too painful to speak. I took a deep breath and came back to the present.

“But I have met a bunch of friendly psychopaths.”

As we entered the cubbyhole, I began to feel different again.

The hum, colors, and lights from the vending machines began to request dances from those who entered. Hypnotized, I extracted my greenback from my cowhide and inserted it into the mouth of the machine. My breath became labored. I forgot the silver trinket, but Victoria obliged and fed the metal. She caressed the selection, fell forward, and left behind a blurred rainbow. As she lifted the plastic barrel, she eased forward and gently kissed me on the lips. Surprised, I did not resist and enjoyed the attention, reluctant to pull back; when I returned and felt normal again I wiped the sweat from my forehead.

“Victoria, we can’t do this. If we get caught, we’ll both be thrown out,” I said.

“Then come over here,” she said, as she pulled me between two vending machines.

As we embraced, our mouths connected as our chests heaved and hands quivered; we willingly accepted the vibration of the vending machine. I divided my attention between Victoria and the hallway, paranoid we might get caught; Victoria slid down to my waist and had my full attention.

As we opened the double doors, I saw Sam still at the picnic table. He lit yet another cigarette and watched family members fish at the pond. Restless, he walked over to one of the platforms, picked up a few of the corn sacks, and lobbed them at the distant platform. Thump, the first one sounded as it laid flat on the platform; swoosh, as the second one flew straight through the hole and never touched the rim. He turned around and noticed Victoria and me as we hurriedly walked through the dry grass.

“What the hell took you guys so long?” Sam said as Victoria walked over to the other platform. “And you didn’t even get me something to drink.”

I said nothing at first and threw a few sacks for practice.

“We’re going to need another player?” I said finally, avoiding eye contact with him.

He seemed puzzled by my demeanor, and looked in the pavilion.

“Hey, Father Tom, come on over and be on my team,” he said as he waved.

With a lit, hand-rolled cigarette in his mouth and his cane for support, Father Tom slowly began to make his way.

“To all patients and visitors, the morning meeting will start in ten minutes. The morning meeting will start in ten minutes,” the intercom blared.

The masses began to maneuver toward the door in one giant exodus as I stared at Victoria through the crowd. I could only imagine what would have happened if we were a few minutes longer. I took a few deep breaths, shrugged it off to good luck, and threw the last corn sacks onto the platform.

“Just our luck. If you guys would have been quicker, we probably could have gotten in a game,” Sam said.

“Hey, I tried to hurry,” I said with a grin.

Eventually, we entered the building where the conversation and people grew and all filed as one toward the auditorium. This was the only time patients sat with one another, due to the mass of people and the shortage of seats. While the itinerary was read off by Dr. Lyedecker for the visitors and patients, I reminisced about the short time Victoria and I had together, and imagined what we might have done, given more time. When the short lecture was complete, the patients who had no visitors went their separate way, as the patients who had visitors hung their heads for the discomfort they knew was to come.

“So, what are you guys gonna do?” Sam asked.

I shrugged my shoulders, “I’ll probably just go upstairs and read a little,” I said.

“Yeah, it’s a lazy day today. I’ll probably do the same thing.” Victoria smiled.

Through the scattered families, we made our way to the elevator. On the ride up, Sam stood in complete silence against the wall, deep in thought. We exited and walked our separate ways, Sam still in thought, and my thoughts still of Victoria.

In our room, Pat frantically straightened his closet and began to check and re-check everything in its proper position, from the towels above the closet to the toothbrush positioned on the shelf below the mirror.

I walked over to my bed, where the sunlight rested peacefully on my comforter. “Pat, you need to calm down.”

“You don’t understand. I have to make sure everything is perfect. This is the first time in a long time that I get to see my children and ex-wife. I have to show them I’m doing well.”

“Then where are they?” I asked as I grabbed the Big Book from my nightstand and sat on my bed.

Pat stopped in mid-stride and thought for a moment.

“Shit,” he said as he ran out of the room.

I shook my head and lay down, and found the page where I left off. Just as I got into the first paragraph, I sensed someone in the doorway.

“What’s up?” Sam asked.

I folded a corner of the page, closed the book, and rested it on the nightstand.

Sam said nothing and slowly slid out the desk chair, like a detective who was about to give his questioning. I grew suspicious; I had never seen Sam act this way before and then I realized he had already put two and two together, as I tried to hide my smile.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me we have to go to group already?” I tried to look puzzled and stared at Sam.

“I knew it,” Sam slapped his knee. “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it.”

“Knew what?”

“You got them roasted, didn’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said as I walked toward the door. I looked down the hall and searched for some type of commotion to relieve me from this inquisition.

“I knew there was something going on between you and Victoria when you came back for the game.”

I closed the door and stood in front of him. “All right, but just keep it between the two of us. I don’t need to get kicked out for this, all right?” I pleaded.

“Hey, no problem, man. Everybody’s been trying for that, but you’re the first one to get it.”

“Then what the hell was all that talk about the squirrel shit and everything?”

“Just talk man, just talk. So what are you going to do now?”

I opened the door. “I don’t know, it just happened and I have to worry more about why I’m here.”

“You got that right,” he said. The situation had become awkward. “Hey, we have a half hour before group, so let’s go catch a smoke, do group, and then go to the gym.” Sam slapped his hands together and walked toward me.

“Gym?” I asked.

Sam put his arm around me as we exited into the hallway.

“Yes, and don’t change the subject…you lucky bastard, I would have never figured you as the one.”

Outside, the weather was still the same, but there were a lot less people who enjoyed the day. Sam and I dug in our pockets for our cigarettes and lit them on the path up to the pavilion. Inside the pavilion, as they smoked their cigarettes and talked, was a mixture of all the cliques that waited for their brethren to return at the end of visitation day. Sam and I found an empty picnic table and sat down out of the shade. He pulled out his handkerchief and wiped his head.

“Sam, I have to ask you a serious question.”

“Okay.”

I tightened my lips, rubbed my chin, and searched for the correct words.

“Uh, do you or did you, uh, ever feel strange?”

“What do you mean?”

I looked around to see if anyone was listening.

“Did you ever feel like you’re hallucinating? Like, you’re in a dream and things are like amplified. Like, colors, noises, people. Like, you just don’t feel normal?” I whispered.

Sam began to chuckle. “Sure, your brain is going all hoochy-coochy on you.”

“What?”

“It’s like you’re the walrus and I’m the egg man. Your body is craving, whether it’s alcohol or drugs,” he said as he fluttered his fingers on his bald head. “And your brain is trying to find it, but it can’t. So, it starts to go all haywire and shit. Just eat a lot of sugar.”

“Will it go away?” I asked.

“Sure…over time.” Sam took a puff from his cigarette. “Don’t worry about it.”

I felt relieved, but still apprehensive. I took a puff from my cigarette and began to tap my lighter on the table.

“So what do I have to look forward to in this group weekend thing?”

“It’s just like group during the week, except we are given a problem or a question, and we have to work together to come up with a solution or answer. I suppose it’s to make us more sociable and understanding of others. It’s not so bad.”

“So, it’s boring, in other words?”

“Only if you make it. Everything that they do here is for a reason. And the longer you’re here, the more you will grow to understand that.”

“Forty love,” echoed from the tennis court, as Sam wiped the sweat from under his arms.

The wood pylons crackled from the heat as tiny brown ants carried away a half-eaten muffin, little by little, that lay beside the concrete ashtray, while smoke billowed atop a dead cigarette.

“Forty all,” echoed from the tennis court as I became fixated on the growing number of ants.

“Hey,” Sam said as he clicked his fingers in front of my face. “I told you, remember the past, but don’t dwell on it.”

He started to cough again after he took a hit from his cigarette. The force and longevity of the coughing, followed by the mucus, grew in strength as time went on.

“Don’t you think that maybe you should also quit smoking?” I said, concerned.

“One thing at a time. And you shouldn’t be smoking either,” he said as he coughed between words.

Out of nowhere, Shawn and Shorty sat down at the table and lit their cigarettes. “Well, we’re almost out of here guys,” Shawn said.

“Then what the hell are you still doing here?” I asked.

“They’re still waiting for a few more prisoners, I mean patients,” Shorty joked.

“You guys haven’t been here that long, won’t the insurance cover any more time?” Sam mumbled with a mouth full of mucus and spat to the side of the table.

“No, our insurance will only cover two visits, and with our second one, they only cover five days of detox,” Shawn said.

They suddenly seemed scared and alone, as if they were wondering if five days would be enough, when Shawn started to smile, perhaps to avoid the image that lay before him.

“That’s why we came up with a new invention that should make us a lot of money. So, if we relapse again, we can pay for it ourselves.”

Sam and I waited for the punch line.

“And what is your great invention?” I inquired.

They both sat erect, as if giving a presentation to new investors, and cleared their throats. Even the scattered group of patients in the pavilion quieted their conversations to hear this newfangled idea.

Shawn positioned himself as he took one last puff of his cigarette and put it out in the pillared concrete ashtray next to him. He shifted, extended his elbows on the picnic table, and leaned forward.