He sat in his room, alone
drinking whiskey. He didn’t have any
friends outside of the school setting.
He was sure to get home from school as fast as he could to open up
another hard bottle of whiskey.
This routine typified his high school experience. Despite his drinking, Thomas was able to get
into college. His adequate grades in
high school allowed him to make the trek to Chico State in northern
California. He had heard that it was a
party school which is what attracted him to the location. Although he drank heavily, which was characteristic
of the other students, his endeavor into the matter guised a different purpose. His friends in college drank with all the
best of intentions, while Thomas drank to the point of belligerence, attempting
to mask the all-encompassing sorrow that had become to define his life.
Although he did not have a girlfriend of his own, he and his friend, Peter,
and Peter’s girlfriend strolled to one of the neighborhood coffee shops. It was a magnificent day that he could not
ignore. They sat down and enjoyed a
couple of iced coffee’s where there was no more needed to enjoying the day than
good conversation.
The first thing in the morning,
Thomas poured a cup of coffee and lit up a cigarette. The thought of facing a day without the
solace he found in alcohol was assuming, thus, he poured himself two or three glasses
before class.
The first night at the dorms was
memorable, in that instead of drinking to a stupor within the confines of his
home, he did so in the midst of a college party in which he had been immersed. At the beginning of the night, before his
drunken haze kicked in, his mask of depression was hidden well, like it had
been during the morning hours in high school.
“Make a move,” one of his
recently acquainted roommates said to him.
“She likes you,” he said in reference to the girl who had made her way
through the party to sit next to Thomas.
In response to the suggestion,
Thomas took another swig of whiskey and chased it with gulp of beer. He did not know how to talk to her or how to
make a forward move.
The party went on. As the hours past Thomas sank deeper and
deeper into the grips of his accustomed inebriation.
At about 11:00 p.m. at night, it
was time to exit the party and retreat to his room. He stumbled there to relish a few more drinks
without the distraction of the party in which he could pursue his own misery.
He brought along the half-empty
bottle of whiskey and turned on his stereo to a collection of his particularly
depressing CD’s. It was his endeavor to
despair to which he actively pursued.
He put on a Willie Nelson
CD. It had a fine selection of drinking
songs which highlighted his mood and helped him wallow even deeper into his
personal desolation.
“Whiskey River, take my mind.
Don’t let her memory torture me.
Whiskey River don’t run dry.
You’re all I got to carry me.”(Willie Nelson)
He fought back the tears in a way
he didn’t have to while he was in high school.
Over his first two
years in college this was the manner in which he led his life. He was not as transparent in his misery as he
believed himself to be. Although, none
of his friends ever mentioned it to him, at times, they discussed it among
themselves.
“What we gotta do it to find him
a girlfriend,” one of his friends said to another.
Once a girl, one of his friend’s
girlfriends finally confided in him. “Why
do you drink so much?”
“I don’t know,” he
responded. Not ready to open up to anybody,
not even his close friends. He poised his answer as if he was drinking just to
be part of the crowd.
She did not want to be intrusive,
so she didn’t mention the oblique depression which he seemed to strive
for. “You’re a smart guy.” She guided him.
She didn’t know how to tell him,
she couldn’t believe he didn’t know. But
she thought it would be better to tell him.
“Everybody already likes you. You
don’t have to drink so much.”
It didn’t quite hit him
then. He continued to live his life in a
bog of self-pity.
After years of depression, one
day he woke up and noticed a bright, cool, spring day.
It was not through his own
willpower that he made the discovery. It
was only after complete resignation that he was able to discover that there
were actually things to live for.
He woke up the next morning and,
once again, the sky was blue and the air was crisp.
The next day, Thomas woke up
early. Instead of a hangover, he enjoyed
a fresh cup of coffee and a cigarette on his balcony welcoming a new day. He walked to class with his eyes wide open
and as he ventured through campus he could not count all the reasons to live for. It was another sunny day. For no reason that he could name he had a
smile on his face.
He got home from class and he put
on one of his roommates CD’s. It was The Beatles Abbey Road. He stood on his balcony and enjoyed a
cigarette and a cool glass of iced tea.
He noticed one of his neighbors.
Her name was Alicia. Although
they had been neighbors for over five months, they did not know each other
well. He gazed upon her auburn hair.
As Thomas basked in the early
afternoon spring air, the music played in the background.
“Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting. Little darling, it feels like years since its
been here. Here comes the sun and I say.
It’s all right.”(The Beatles)
Alicia looked up at Thomas and
flashed him a smile. He took another sip
of ice tea and lit himself another cigarette savoring the invigorating spring
day.
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