It was number three. And getting number three was a bad bad thing.
I remember. I went speechless. I was all alone, but even sitting there alone by myself with nobody sitting in the bucket seat next to me, I was still speechless. Only a white flood light flooding into the car from behind me. Beads of sweat bubbled around my hairline.
Yeah, I knew the routine.
Too well.
My armpits started leaking sweat and it rolled all the way down my side. My throat swelled so bad that I couldn’t swallow even if my mouth had watered. My breathing increased and then my stomach opened up inside me and spit out everything that I had in it. It felt like an out of body experience and when I shut my eyes in hopes that everything that was about to happen would not happen, I lost all hope.This was number three, and my life had taken a serious wrong turn.
Please God. I don’t know you, but please God, perform a miracle.
I beg him to do me this solid.
It was only months before that he actually did.
I was driving home. I was drunk. I was coming home from River Falls. I was only on my way home because I had a point to prove to dad. It wasn’t always as it appeared. I’ve proven that I can go out and still make it home over and over again, but when nobody was looking, and it was just me by myself – I knew I had failed over and over again. It was a no-win situation for me and I knew it. I was making it home, I was driving drunk, and I wasn’t getting caught.
Tick, tick, tick…
My point was simple. It was to prove that I could go out with my friends, have a good time doing whatever it was that me and my friends do, and still show that I was responsible enough to wake up in my own bed and not my friends couch. That’s the thought running through my mind driving the back roads of River Falls, passing the St. Croix beach heading to Hwy 61 at 1230 midnight. I’m seeing double. It’s plain as day that I am - - there are four double-yellow lines! I’m concentrating so hard, that I drive with one eye shut just to make sure I’m not seeing double. I had to have been all over the road, shoot, you try driving drunk with one eye shut. A cigarette burned in my hand and I smoke it to stay awake.
No cars were in sight for miles.
I follow the road as it bends to the right and another bend starts bending back to the left. There is a lot of road and my thoughts aren’t about getting home safe. They aren’t about not hurting someone else. They aren’t about - what the hell am I doing? They are about how stressful tomorrow will be when I wake up and dad will have already been awake for hours having a coffee in the porch with the morning paper and the first question out of his mouth will be - did you get drunk last night? Did you puke? If I fake sleep long enough, I can wake up without being hungover but I’d have to sleep for 8-9 hours. Not likely. My hangover tell is that I get stuffed up and sound nasally after drinking. You and Dad pick up on that faster than the clock ticks.
So, I was driving home, drunk. I was coming from River Falls. The only reason I put the keys in the ignition, started the car, and drove off was because I had a point to prove to dad. I follow the road as it bends to the right and another bend starts bending back to the left. There is a lot of road and I can’t tell anymore if I’m still drunk or if I’m sleeping. The road bends around about to slow for the stop light right before highway 61 just before Hastings.
There isn’t a car in sight.
There hasn’t been for the entire ride except for the Statie crawling up my ass. From nowhere, red and blue lights flash. I know to pull over. I also know I’m just about home? If I were to hit the gas it’s two seconds to Innovation Road then take a left on the frontage road near Menards past Cub to Jamaica turn right and then left up the block on the street where Hillside Elementry is and lose him in those streets. I know them pretty good cuz the chuker lives around there and thats how I know them pretty good, but whatever, I pull over.
Thought after thought, please God after please God hits my mind over and over and over. I’m done. This time, I’ve really done it. I could tell him I’m Nick. I could be Nick. I know his birthday, his age, we look the same, I could just say I forgot my ID and he’d let me off with a warning. I think about this in a mind-panic. Maybe it was life-panic because I have no play.
All I can do is sit here and let the chips fall, er, crash. I inhale from my smoke then watch it fall outside the window. As it falls down past the window, there he is. Standing right at my door. Flashing his light square in my eyes.
What was that? What did you just throw out the window?
...to be continued.
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