My body had grown numb on the walk back, but it didn’t feel like enough. After I finished the first beer, I took out a second, my legs slowly giving out as I sank onto the floor. I just didn’t have it in me to prop myself up anymore. The second beer went down easier than the first. When it was done, I noticed that a small puddle had formed around me.
It was odd drinking here. In this house, where things probably were at their best. Life was easier when there were rules and schedules. An operating system for my life that wasn’t perfect, but would lead to good things. I wonder if we ever achieve the happiness we did as children. Maybe we numb ourselves because we know that it’s impossible.
I decided to drink the last beer left in the six pack. No one drank in this house anyways, so I’m sure they had been long forgotten. When I opened the fridge this time, I actually took a moment to notice the rest of the sorry inventory. Several old plastic containers of different amorphous substances, all a varying shade of grey, a half-gallon of skim milk, some dregs of orange juice, and a bottle of ketchup.
I took out the last beer, cracked it open, and made my way quietly up the stairs. The water felt like tendrils of fire as I stepped into the shower. I set the bottle down on the lip of the tub, closed my eyes and let the stream of water hit my face. It was nice to no longer be shivering, although my hands continued to shake, but the water burned and tightened my skin.
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It was probably what I deserved. And whether my body acclimatized to the heat or the hot water ran out, I knew that my suffering hadn’t lasted long enough. After I dried off, and got into bed, stared up at the ceiling. The alcohol moved slowly through my head, making it feel as if the entire bed were a rowboat tipping from side to side.
Something else was keeping me awake though. The queasiness I felt had more to do with my own shame than it did with anything I’d consumed. I can’t say exactly why I left her like I did. I’m not even sure why I said no to us trying to get back together. It was something I could never let myself entertain.
My hands were still shaking. I clasped them together as if in prayer. That still wasn’t enough to calm them down. I began to wonder if there might be something really wrong with me. I was about to search my symptoms on my phone when I heard it. A high-pitched whine in my ears, like a hornet drawing smaller and smaller circles around me.
But there was something else that made it more persistent and focused. A buzzing in a pattern that I could tell was more than incoherent sound. When I tried to focus on it, the pitch dropped slightly, and I thought I could just barely hear words. “What is it?” My voice sounded small in the darkness. Then the buzzing stopped. My hands stopped shaking.
The next thing I felt, I can’t rationally explain. My bed began to bend up around me, like jaws opening. I wondered if I had stumbled into a nightmare, yet I knew that I was still awake. I felt something pull me downward, deeper into the bed. My vision began to fade, but still I knew that I wasn’t falling asleep. My very self felt pulled somewhere else in my mind.