Rough Draft: Untitled

The phone’s vibration, that early in the morning, was not something he wished to hear. Random bottles that once contained alcohols of various sorts were lazily lying around the room as if they too were trying to recover from an extensive night of drinking. The phone continued its vibrating dance on top of the night stand directly adjacent to his bed, yet instead of answering it, the better solution seemed to be tucking his head deep inside the feather down pillow and rolling over. Brief memories from last night swam around him in the blackness created by the pillow. The phone rang again. Leaving the comforting darkness of his pillow and reaching over for the phone he instantly realized this was a poor choice as he grabbed the plastic garbage can next to his bed and violently emptied the contents of his stomach. Beer, pretzels and random bits of hamburger all rushed out as they tried to escape the turmoil of his gut. Whiping his mouth he looked up at his cell to notice the blinking light on the side indicating that the previous caller had left him a voicemail. It probably went something like: “Hey man just checking to see if you are alive and kickin’. Last night was blah blah blah.”

            Its not as if he actually cared what any of his friends had to say about last night, nor did he care. Instead of listening to the voicemail, he decided that it was best to get some water in his body and pop some pills to ease the pain. Leaving the semi-comfort of his bed, he pulled the blanket off and wrapped himself up tight, hugging his body to try and calm it. It didn’t work. After making yet another not so brief stop off at the bathroom to take any pill that helped with headaches, muscle aches or upset stomach, he found himself in the small kitchen trying to find a sleeve of crackers. Soup, Cup-O-Noodles and peanuts- rummaging around in the mostly barren cupboard he was reminded that today was shopping day.

“What else have I forgotten to do today?”

 Finally a half eaten bag of soda crackers appeared behind an upside-down can of tomato soup. After the package of crackers was in hand, the next stop was at the sink. Cup? Check. Water? Check. Drinking? That proved difficult. He wobbled, the cup swirled and the room spun. But after taking a few minutes to steady himself he managed to drink the cup and refill it. Standing over the white porcelain sink sipping on the new cup of water, small memories from the previous day came swimming back to him. At the bar. In the cab. Back at home. Always a bottle in hand. This water was the first non alcoholic beverage he had consumed in the last 18, no 20 or so hours. His body was confused. Again he heard the soft vibration of his phone as the noise traveled down the hall to his ears.

“Must be important.” The sober part of himself said to the drunk part.

“It can wait.” The drunk part replied. “Curling up on the couch right now would be prime.”

On that they both agreed. “But first the phone, and then the couch.”

Passing through the short hallway back to his room the pictures of his mother and father hung on the wall.

“Don’t judge me.” The drunk part of him snapped.

“It’s all right hun.” His mother replied from the constrains of the picture frame. “We all have been through a lot. And we each have our own way of coping.”

She was right. She was always right.

The cell phone light seemed ominous as it blinked steadily on the nightstand. He heavily slouched back on the bed as he reached over and cumbersomely dialed into his voicemail. His familiar voice greeted him, “Hey you know the routine. Leave a message.”

The next voice was also a familiar one. “Hello Nick, it’s your mother. The funeral director said that we should be there about two hours before your brother’s funeral so that we can pay our respects in private. I also just wanted to let you know that it will be a closed coffin… they were not able to repair a lot of the damage to his face. Your father and me, we look forward to seeing you again. And it would mean a lot to your sister too. After your brother’s accident she just hasn’t been the same. Love you, and see you in a couple of hours.”