Inspired by a Song

inspired by a song

Leo was having one of those days where he questioned everything about himself. He hated the way in which he was filling up his small amount of allotted space. Every little part of him felt different, wrong. His feet were suddenly too big for his body, or maybe his legs were too short. His tongue was swollen and he perpetually bit the sides and tip of it. His lips hung slack and damp around his mouth. His ears doubled in sensitivity. Every thought that passed through his head reminded him why he had avoided
sobriety up until now.

It was getting harder for him to stay sober since he had gotten over Jesus. At about the time that he avoided conviction and plea-bargained for rehab, he was having visions of Jesus regularly, and he was convinced that God's love for him would save him. Now, sober and pained, he seriously doubted if God even gave a damn about him, let alone loved him. Everything about him was in doubt. Did he always walk this way? Did other people walk the same way? Could everyone else hear the deafening clack of his boots against the pavement? Did everyone else go into rehab?

Since he had been released, neither Marnie nor Lindy cared to speak to him. He'd seen Lindy lately with that guy whose name he could never remember but who wore suits all the time. It wasn't a job thing, apparently, but something he chose to do. Leo doubted that this was entirely true, however, since he remembered hearing something about a bet being made. That, Leo thought, seemed pathetic enough to actually be true.

Leo broke out his tattered journal. His mind reeled in the summer heat. He was sweating. Who dared make you? Who gave you those legs, that body, that face? Who cursed me by creating your beauty? I hate them. I hate you. I hate what you've done to me. You are a drug. You've become worse than heroin. You've infected every cell in my body and turned me to ash. When junk filled me up and made me neutral you emptied me out and replaced my heart with some pathetic unreal form of hope. I was empty and happy. You made me full of desire. You've destroyed me in my love for you.

Wait. Did I say love? Even I find that funny. What the hell do I know about love? Love to me is a blowjob in the bathroom of a bar. I don't know you, I don't even know your last name. Who the hell are you? How the hell did I get here? God hates me, I can feel it. He's torturing me by letting me taste your flesh. I am nothing. You are everything. You've taken me over. Leo wasn't even sure who he was writing about. It didn't matter. All he knew was that everything e loved about his life was gone from him, had alienated him, since his sobriety.

As all these thoughts filled his head and his pen, he suddenly realized he was outside of a bar. It was getting late, but not too late. He wondered if he was ready for such a challenge, and decided he was. He would simply sit at the bar, order a soda, and relax.

When he walked in, he saw the suit guy sitting opposite Jay. He could only figure they were arranging a deal. For some reason, he hated them both. He couldn't fathom the idea that those people were drinking and smoking and doing drugs and somehow he was cursed to sit near them drinking ginger ale and hoping to keep down an order of mozzarella sticks. He honestly couldn't imagine anything more painful.

If he had continued on junk and drinking, if he had stayed on the path to hell as his doctors called it, he still would never have been as embarrassed by his life as he was right now.

As he sat and thought, Jay got up from the table, walked up to the bar, and ordered a six to go. After he got it, he walked past Leo and gave him a smile and a nod. Somehow, that annoyed the hell out of Leo. Yet somehow he managed a smile and a nod back. Jay walked past him and out the door.

Leo watched as the guy in the suit sat for a moment then walked up to him.

“What's going on, Leo?” he asked. Leo hated that this man knew his name.

“Not much. Where's Jay going?” Leo replied.

“Oh, there's a party at Lindy's place tonight. Aren't you going?”

Leo couldn't help but feel an unwarranted hatred of the man before him. “I wasn't invited. Have a good time, though,” he said.

The man finished his beer and set it down. “I wasn't invited either. I'm heading to the bar. Maybe I'll see you there later.”

Leo stared at him. He didn't know what else to do. His body was curling up inside itself. “I've stopped drinking,” he said, “and I hate to say it but you need to tell me your name.”

“No, I don't. There's no reason to do that right now,” the man replied, and walked out the door.

Leo was by himself now, sitting in a bar filled with drunks who had probably been drinking since the morning. In his head he hated the man he'd just spoken to, but at the same time, he recognized that they were suddenly very close to each other. They were both lost children.

The bartender stood over Leo wondering what was going on. She was beautiful to him then. Her face was haggard and her exposed stomach had a visible scar, but she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen as he ordered a Lager and a shot of Beam.

She filled that shot to the brim. When he saw that, Leo knew that he was home.