A Quiet Piece of Longing – Three

Somewhere in Atlanta, Georgia. I had driven here from Vegas in three-and-a-half days. My car was simply a pile of rubble. And yet, somehow, it held itself together. I was growing reliable on it. Attached. I had to pick out a name. Perhaps, I’d name it Carla. A play on words. Now, if only I could have that kind of resilience.

After what had happened with Alice, I decided I needed a break from hookups. It was obvious to me I wasn’t fit for that kind of thing. Perhaps, the best thing to do was to avoid relationships all together. That thought certainly crossed my mind. I did not fit. I would not fit. I can take but I cannot give. But then the isolation would come back and I’d think, “Well, I’ll just give it another try.” But for right now? I was just going to explore and stay alone for a while.

I decided to go barhopping. Just get as trashed as possible and when I would get cut off, oh well, I’d just go to another place. It would be an experiment in liver damage. It would be a long and nasty adventure, but I’d give it a swing.

Started at a place called The Grasshopper. It was some dive located on the outskirts. Just a few miles away from where I entered. It was four P.M. and people were just starting to enter. A few girls there. And groups of men here and there. I sat at the counter spaces away from everyone, steadily drinking vodka mixed with soda.

The bartender was a man of the name Michael. He steadily prepared glasses and made drinks. “So, what’s it like living here?” I asked with sullen eyes.

“You’re not from around here, I figure?” He had a scruffy beard but was missing hair on his head. Eyebrows too.

“I’m a world-weary-traveler. I’m here for rest.”

“Where’ve you been?”

I laughed. “All over. Left LA and never stopped.”

“And why’d you leave?”

I leaned back and squinted my eyes. “Life took a turn. Couldn’t stay there anymore. Besides, human beings aren’t meant to sit and wander around in little concrete boxes worrying about dollar signs and scurrying about in metal cars like cockroaches. Like, for fuck’s sake! We were meant to live and breathe.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “You alright?”

And I just took a sip. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

“You have a breakup recently?”

“And would you know about that? Wasn’t really a break up. Just met a fellow traveler, fucked her for a few days, then she took off. But now? I’m taking a break from the ladies. Bars and places and cars are my new love.”

“Who knows. If she’s a traveller too then you’ll probably meet again.”

“Bullshit. I don’t wanna meet her again nor do I think I will. I’m not a man who clings to hope.”

“You sound bitter. Something happen with her?”

“Kind of. She said she loved me, but I couldn’t say it back.”

He cringed. “Oh Jesus.”

“And it was during sex too… God.” I facepalmed.

“That’s bad.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. Hey, another drink?” I said.

“Sure. More vodka?”

“No, I’m thinking scotch. Oh yeah. Gimme, gimme, gimme.”

He laughed. “It’ll be right up. I’ll even spice it up for you. Add an orange peel.”

Whiskey was a gift from the Gods. In the Christian Bible it states that the ark of the covenant was filled inside with angel food. If this is true, if it did exist, then it would obviously be scotch. Just imagine it. Angels in heaven partying with whiskey and then screwing each other. I silently wondered what you’d need to do to get kicked out of heaven. I knew that I’d get kicked out. I belonged with the others in hell.

A glass of whiskey with ice and an orange peel was slid my way. The bartender smiled. I cupped the glass and poured all of it into my mouth. Ice included. I swallowed and chewed on the ice. Then I slammed the glass down with a thud. “Another one, perhaps?”

He gave me a dumb smile and took the glass away. “I think you’ve had enough.”

I smiled and drummed my fingers on the table. “Then I am off to the next place!”

I exited the bar and came onto a busy sidewalk in the evening glow. The sun and moon coalesced into a broad array of purple and pinks. Everything looked like a fever dream. And with all the alcohol, it certainly felt like it.

People shuffled about in formation. They leaned against the wall and chatted each other up. Women walked away in dresses and high heels. Teenagers ran down the boulevard and across the street. At least I wasn’t alone.

My vision was blurry and I stumbled down the street. A few turns here, crossing the street there, and I came to another bar. I didn’t even need to pay a taxi fare. My new bastion of hope was right in front of me!

I decided I would drink as fast as possible. It was almost like self-flaggelation. A punishment for being unable to connect. But that was not it at all. It was just fun to drink. It was fun to fuck. It was fun to try my luck with tarnishing my liver and partying all alone. No obligations. No responsibilities. Tonight, it was just me and the bottle.

I walked inside and took a seat at the counter. Right next to two men speaking with each other. One guy, looking like a nerdy techie. And another, a middle aged man with a beard, mustache, and thick glasses.

“Well, do you think we can find them?”

“I know we can, but where?”

“Anywhere, man. Just go up and ask someone.”

“Anyone?”

“Yes. Literally anyone.”

“Hey.” The bearded man said, tapping my shoulder. “We need a third guy for something. What’s your name?”

I looked at him and couldn’t tell if he had two faces or not. “Arthur.”

“Oh, my name’s Micah. Basically, we’re traveling and need money for a car. Me and Peter here have just been hitch hiking.”

“Oh.” I said. “I can’t help with the car but I can drop some money in the pool.” I retrieved a twenty and gave it to him. “Where are you two even headed?”

Peter smiled. “Anywhere.”

“I’m a traveler too. And I’m headed anywhere.”

“Well,” The bearded man said again, “We’re planning on heading to the lake after a drink or two. Then we’ll head out of town. We’d have to walk. Wanna come with?”

Peter reached into his bag and pulled out a bottle of vermouth. “And we got this too.”
I smiled. “Sounds like a plan.”

We stayed at the bar for a fat moment. Micah was thirty-four and left town after a divorce with his wife. With a heavy dose of irony, he had lost the custody battle to his chainsmoking, meth-addicted wife. Now he just stayed in cheap apartments, worked odd jobs, and traveled the South. Peter was a recent college graduate in IT, just taking a gap year. The two had met at a train station in Florida and decided to travel together.

“It’s like that one scene in the matrix.” Peter said. “The spoon bending. That can be applied to a lot of things like, ‘my blue is not your blue.’ A.K.A, color blindness. Everyone’s perception of reality is different. Who’s to say what’s real and what’s not?”

“Bullshit.” Said Micah. “It’s just how brains are formed in the womb.”

“You’d think that but even people undergoing organ transplants have detected differences in their personality.”
“Like what?”

“Eating habits, behaviors, emotions, stuff like that.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, “But how’s that even possible?”

“Simple. It’s DNA and genes in the organs themselves. That’s where it’s been traced too.”
Micah took a sip of the drink and wiped the liquid from his mustache. “That’s crazy. Never heard of that before.”

“Well, it’s true. Reality isn’t real. It could just be a simulation.”

Micah gargled the beer and stood up. “Alright, I’ve heard enough of your babble. Let’s get going.”

We exited the bar and I found that it was night. The moon was a thin crescent, hanging in the sky. Neon signs lit up the street and people moved about smoking cigarettes.

The lake was at a park four miles away. The walk would be long but it wasn’t that bad. I drunkenly followed them as they were much more sober than I. I even took a swig of the vermouth. Then another one. I appreciated how strong it was.

We arrived at the lake and found that the water wasn’t too cold. It was just right, and very humid. Mosquitoes and gnats circled the water. Peter rolled his legs up and jumped straight in for a nice bath.

“Hey, you want some weed?” Micah asked me.

I smiled. “I’ll never refuse an offer like that, you know.”

He rolled a joint and took a puff before passing it to me. Getting crossfaded was just what I needed.

“This shit tastes good. What strain is it?” I asked.

“Purple Haze. It’s indica.”

“I mostly smoke sativas. Indica’s for when I can’t sleep.”

Micah laid down and stared at the stars. “I’m an alcoholic, you know.” He said.

“And so am I. I like everything.”

“Everything?”

“Whatever I can get my hands on.”
He sighed and sat up. “I was sober for a few years. I did it for my daughter. I didn’t want her growing up seeing her old man constantly drinking. It was bad enough her mom did everything else. But with the divorce I can’t see her anymore. Now there’s nothing stopping me.”

I paused and handed the vermouth to him. “Drink up then.”

He smiled and grabbed it from my hand. Then downed a couple shots. He groaned and wiped his lips. “God, that tastes horrible.”

“Hey, it’s alcohol. Just what you like.”
“Arthur, you’re a strange man.”

“I get that a lot. There’s nothin’ normal about me.”

“We all have issues, you know. Some worse than others. But, just once, I’d like to meet a human being who was truly content with their life. Who was actually happy. But I don’t think that’s ever gonna happen.”

I scoffed. “No one’s like that. We all have some things and we all don’t have some things. Like, if you’re lonely that’s because you don’t have a girlfriend. But someone can have a special lady and still feel lonely.”

“It’s the human condition, man. Always wanting more.”

“Greed.”

“Uhuh.”

Micah stood up and got in the water with Peter. I stared up at the stars and everything was whirling. I felt very infintesimally small. I was an ant floating on a ball of dust. Just a brain. Just skin and bone.

Eventually I said, “to hell with it,” and started walking away. But not before another nice drink of vermouth. I was off to the next bar. The next person. The next drink. Motion is what kept me alive. It’s what kept my brain from dawdling and constricting itself with usless thoughts.

I wandered the streets of Atlanta in the night. I came to the fountains and was splashed with water. I moved within the crowds and passed many beautiful women. I even laid down on a bench and closed my eyes. Silently, I decided it would be my sleeping spot for the night.

After wandering the streets for a good hour, I finally found the next place. I went inside and took a seat. “I’ll have a gin and tonic.”

The bartender prepped it and slid it to me. I took a sip and I found that I enjoyed it. And now, this is where my memory started to fail me. I remember bits and pieces but not much. First, I struck up a conversation with the bartender. He looked at me funny and then said, “Are you okay?”

To which I replied, “Yeah, I’m doing juuuust fine. Completely fine. Just a bit tipsy.”
He then lowered his voice to a dim whisper. “Listen, you’re way too drunk. Are you driving?”

I can’t remember what happened next. But I found myself on the streets again, walking between lit up signs and crowds of shuffling people. And then, a memory came back to me. The dreaded flashbacks.

I was in sixth grade and got challenged to a fight by a bully. And at recess, I met him by the swings and punched him. He fell to the ground and I gave him a good kick in the head. Then stopped. For someone who had bullied me all throughout elementary school, he wasn’t too tough.

But I got sent to the principal’s office and suspended for five days. “So you fought him.” The principal said in a condescending tone. “For what?”

“It’s just cause I asked his girl out. It’s stupid.”

“He has a black eye now and a concussion. You’re suspended and getting detention for a week.”

I sighed. “Whatever.”

My mom picked me up and gave me a good scolding in the car. Then I got home and my father slapped me across the face. I was grounded and sent to my room without dinner. Though I can’t remember feeling all that hungry.

The next thing I remember on the streets of Atlanta is wandering into the same bar. There was a sweet looking blonde girl at the counter. I went up to her and tried asking her out. But the words wouldn’t come out. So instead of anything good, I said, “I want to make sex with you.”

She then promptly threw the drink in my face. And the next thing I knew, I was waking up in an alley with vomit next to me. My head hurt. Blood pulsed in my ears and they rang. I decided to take it easy.