dragged... (Part 37)

                Me Minus You

Elixir; or should I say Alex, as he requested me to address him as, left little doubt in my mind that what we had was over.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about either; I mean I could understand why, but I just couldn’t come to terms with it being enough to justify his absolute disinterest in trying to rekindle the relationship.  He stood there with his back against that fence and looked at me like I was the scum of the earth, emotionless, bitter, with the blankest look in his eyes as if I meant nothing at all to him, like all the intimate times we shared weren’t worth remembering.  

It’s funny how people react when there has been a breach in trust,   how they have a total mental meltdown before putting their heart on lockdown, to avoid the pain associated with any further concern about the well being of the person who abused them emotionally.  They become a shell of who they once were prior to the relationship and I didn’t like how I felt, knowing that I was responsible for his anguish.  Unfortunately, I knew that if time couldn’t mend it then everything was pretty much a wrap between us. 

When Elixir turned her back on me I actually heard the echo of two tall solid metal doors closing and locking; I even heard the brass key hitting the cobble stone floor behind them which assured me that she had thrown it away  and that I no longer had access to her heart.  All I could do was walk away in shame and accept the repercussions of my actions without drawing any unnecessary attention to myself or her.  I was grateful that she didn’t make it a public display and humiliate me because I couldn’t be responsible for any defensive action that might have taken place.  Let’s face it; no one likes being put on blast in front of roving eyes (Especially Maddox McNair).

About an hour after  my unsuccessful attempt to get back into the good graces of my former “glady” (Guy and lady combined), I felt the lure of my addition pulling me to break my sobriety but I knew that snorting cocaine and downing liquor would place my already unstable mind in an uncontrollable state.  Sunny had already managed to stir up the monster within by shunning me as if I were no longer worthy of respectful treatment and if I thought about that too long I might very well snap, seek her out, and finish off  what I had started during my intoxicated haze.

Luck was on that trifling bitch’s side that night, because had I not been knocked unconscious I would have served her up some more of the leanest side of beef this side of Texas.  I suppose the only solace I had was when I learned that old boy, Stanley Simon from the AA meeting, had gotten the chance to do what so many others wanted to, drop that skank to the ground like a rotten sack of potatoes. Judging by his demeanor, I could tell that he still wasn’t quite finished with her and I wasn’t sure if I was either. 

By the time I arrived at the 4:00PM meeting, I noticed that a few of the regulars had already taken their seats and a couple of them looked anxious to get whatever it was that was bothering them off of their chest.  The entire set up reminded me of a Catholic Confession booth without the booth because of how the participants would rattle off their deepest emotions in effort to ward off the beast of substance abuse so that it would transform into an all out relapse. 

I hadn’t taken the opportunity to share anything about myself because I didn’t feel comfortable airing my dirty laundry in front of an audience of people I didn’t know.  Whenever I was given the floor to rise up and share, I always declined and was always amazed how I was never ever pressured to speak. 

In that I went to various meetings at different times of the day or evening I got an opportunity to hear day labors speak before they headed into the office, afternoon folks who used to liquor it up for lunch, and the after work crew who would frequent the bar to unwind from the day. 

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t getting anything out of attending the meetings.  The one common thread that everyone had, including me, is that we all had issues dealing with our past and present emotions.  I told myself that if I planned on having a sober life then I would have to participate eventually or I’d just be wasting my time frequenting these meetings.  I knew for a fact that there were some who would walk up into the meeting stoned, and it was always made clear that if you were lit they would rather you not share.  I felt them on that one too because, you really weren’t in your right mind if you were high and it would come off as stoner gibberish.   

When the clock on the wall hit 4:15PM I told myself that Stanley was probably going to be a no show at the meeting, but right when I told myself that, the door swung open and he entered, wearing a dark, blue, pimp stripe suit, black gators, a white shirt and red tie.  He was dressed professionally, so I assumed that he had just come from the office.  He looked around the room, spotted me and after he had filled a white, Styrofoam cup up with black coffee, he made his way over and sat in the seat beside me.

He leaned into me and whispered, “Glad you came back for the miracle, my brotha.”

“Hey, I need a miracle in my life, dude, I’m just glad you showed up.  I’m sorta getting used to seeing your mug,” I whispered back, rocking sideways and bumping up against his shoulder. 

He smiled and said, “For sure, ditto…”    

When the clock hit 5:00PM, the facilitator informed everyone that it was time for a ten minute break.  Both Stanley and I briefly introduced ourselves to some of the newcomers and then, we headed outside to get a break so that we could talk amongst ourselves.  We found a quiet spot in the corner of the parking lot beneath a small tree, and he pulled out a pack of Newports, took one out, and offered me one.  Normally I didn’t smoke but I felt like getting a nicotine rush, so I accepted the offer.

He flicked a red BIC lighter, then held the flame over in my direction for me to light my cigarette and once it was lit, he lit his.  The meeting had about thirty people present, and over half of them smoked so when I looked around I saw that 3 or 4 little groups (including ours) had sprung up in various locations in the strip mall parking lot.  That’s when I noticed my boy, Nick, walking towards Stanley and I, wearing a purple, cotton, sweatshirt with Sequoia High School on the front of it, and a pair of beige kaki’s with bright white tennis shoes. 

“That’s a friend of yours, right?” Stanley asked, taking a drag off his smoke.

“Yea, that’s my nigga.  Look at him, he thinks he’s a model,” I said, chuckling out loud. 

“He seems like he’s a nice guy, Maddox, how long have you guys been friends,” he asked. 

“Too long,” I said, playfully, pulling Nick into a bear hug.

“Nigga you ain’t got no substance abuse problem,” I told him rubbing him on the head with my forearm. 

“Dude, stop trying to mess up all this pretty,” he said, chortling, and breaking free from the head lock I had him in. 

“Pretty, ha! Yea, right, Pretty dang gruesome,” I told him, lying my ass off. 

In all honesty, I always thought that Nick was very handsome and I always shook it out of my thoughts because I didn’t want to embrace the fact that I had an attraction to him.  I remember when I first saw my boy naked, my dick got so damn hard until I thought I was going to nut in my jeans, but he never ever knew that.  There were a few times when he caught me checking him out a little longer than normal for a straight man, but he always ignored me and would always tell me that I needed to find a bitch. 

Now that was some shit right there because here he was, now, involved with a drag queen.  I suppose it was hard for manly men to admit to themselves that they had attractions to the same sex.  Unlike women, who tell each other how beautiful they looked in this, or how fine they looked in that, men usually admired one another with their eyes only and it was often on the sly.  I wasn’t sure why I was feeling this extra attraction to my boy lately, but I was sure it had something to do with the way he was taking time out of his busy schedule, to support me in my time of need.

Yes, I was sure that’s all it was. 

Damn, look at how pretty his pink, full lips look surrounded by that immaculately trimmed, black,  goatee.  MMM…  

Hey, wait! 

Did I just think that?