So I made it to Chicago. I've gotten to see my wonderful ex, helped her move to an apartment with a remarkable view, and have stayed with her for the last few days, although I promised that I'd only need to stay for Saturday night.
I'm also beginning to understand grief, and I don't know if it suits me. “If it's not that, then it's always something else” is how my Dad put it. I got a text at 3:30 Sunday morning that said “Hey robert, if u havent heard what happened to tom, give me call asap.” There was a follow-up text that said “Sry if ur on the phone to family, but if not, give me a call. Your brothers in the hospital.” This was from my brother's best friend in New Orleans.
My little brother was in a car accident that involved his mid-sized SUV and a taxi cab. I can't say more than that for legal reasons.
I started drinking at Sunday brunch with bottomless mimosas and then helped my ex move (she has a lot of stuff, although she'll be the first to admit it). She bought me drinks that afternoon as a thank you for my help. I had Bulleit bourbon on the rocks, an Arrogant Bastard, a Lake Eerie beer that the cute waitress suggested, and then another shot of bourbon. I drank while she ate because I didn't feel like eating.
I ran along the lakefront that night, and my stride was perfect, rooster feet scraping at gravel as I fell forward and let that momentum carry me away . I understand now that my best running has always been a way to measure out a prolonged scream.
I got back and had three glasses of white wine and then drank a full bottle of red that my ex had made herself – it tasted like magical fruit juice. We went up to the roof patio of the building, and I disastrously described my drunken feelings and gave douchey advice about future relationships. I basically beat a dead horse when we should have been having a good time.
The source of my anger was easy to pin down, and it had nothing to do with her. My little brother, the one whom I visited in New Orleans, is injured because of an unnecessary but somehow unavoidable car accident. The top part of his femur, which inserts into his hip socket, is fractured. I wonder if he's going to end up a gimp.
Lying in bed the next morning, not sure if I'm still drunk or hungover, I decide to spend the day at the beach. I buy a 200ml bottle of Captain Morgan and some RC cola – the idea was to mix them and be able to take it along with me, but I end up drinking it in the bathroom in ten minutes. There is a bar called Montrose Beach along the lakefront; I have two summer shandys, a pint of Daisy cutter (which the owner buys me), and then a hard cider (one of which I end up buying for her). It's easier to talk to women when I'm drunk.
I meet my ex who has just gotten off of work – we go eat at a nice thai place, and I get us a bottle of white wine. She has about two glasses, so I finish the rest of the bottle. After dinner, she is going to a bar to talk with a bartender that she likes; I see how my presence could be awkward and decide to stick around the neighborhood and maybe go see a movie.
I end up flirting with the theater cashier and asking her for movie recommendations; we decide on Captain America. The show isn't for 25 minutes, so I decide to go to a bar and get a tall boy. I decide that I like the people at the bar (three of them are from Detroit and keep giving me travel recommendations), so I head back to the movie theater and get my ticket refunded. I also flirt more with the cashier and get her number so that we can eat at the thai place where I just had dinner on Wednesday. I go back and start drinking vodka cranberries – I can't remember how much I drink, and I start buying pitchers for the people from Detroit. I decide to leave and take the El train back around 1, when my ex calls me. I've forgotten that she needs to get up and go to work tomorrow.
While I'm waiting for the El, I decide to jump down on the tracks to recreate a magical moment that I had in New York City. I slip on one of the rails and smack my shin and skin my knee. I suppose it wasn't the third rail; I must have climbed back up. I remember this short CTA worker wearing a reflective vest; I kept hugging him and thanking him profusely.
I get home somehow and wake up the next day. I go to the same liquor store where I got the rum and flirt with the Polish lady there before buying some sunkist and Svedka vodka. I get back to the apartment and start drinking. I realized that this bottle is bigger than I thought, but I manage to finish it anyway.
I'm supposed to meet my best Chicago friend that afternoon. He calls, and I start blubbering.
I'm thinking about a taxi driver who lived in my building when I was working for the census in June 2010. I got to interview the driver, a tall man with calm, friendly eyes. His young wife kept chiming in from the other room as we went through the questionnaire. His four-year-old son played on the floor. I wonder if the taxi driver in New Orleans filled out a census, and if so, how many people he has listed on it.
My Chicago friend informs me that I'm an alcoholic. I protest, saying that I'm too young to be that. He asks me a few questions, and it becomes apparent I can't remember a specific day where I haven't had a drink – probably that last time was when I was in the hospital for five days after my February surgery.
I've been using the New Orleans accident as an excuse to shut down at a point when my family needs me most. I eat dinner with my friend and go downtown, but I can't stop vomiting or thinking about the taxi driver. I talk about probably drinking less, and my friend just stares at me.
I guess this means that I can't drink any more. I've forgotten what sobriety feels like, but it seems overwhelming. The day after this is trembling and I panic about my family, where I'm going to spend the night, my writing, my job, my travel plans, my date. I try to pray but start hyperventilating, so I make a list:
Find some place to stay (it's not appropriate to be inconveniencing your ex like this!!!)
E-mail job, since you're going to be short on hours
Eat, drink water, stretch, and breathe
Catch up with school and writing
Go on date; act normal
Be there for family; do not panic and do not shut down
Do not drink under any circumstances
Seek help
I've completed a few of these steps so far, although the last three will need to be time-tested. I'll let you know how that goes.
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