knowing that the pain is his

1

The Dude without a large enough dose of heroin to make him feel like a superhero wonders why his shadow keeps disappearing while he stands in the sun.

Other things are nagging at him this morning, too.

 

Aching knees, a stiff neck, a hangnail on his thumb, a popcorn hull wedged between his teeth and gums.

 

It’s a long way to rehab from where he’s standing.

 

And then his cell phone rings.

 

“Yo,” The Dude says…

 

“Ready?” says a lazy voice.

 

“Been ready,” The Dude says, his voice already hoarse.

 

“Meet me at the Waffle House on the Boulevard in a half hour.”

 

“Okay.”

 

2

The Dude sits down at a booth and orders the All-Star Special Breakfast, coffee, and a glass of water with lemon.

 

The waitress looks like someone he once fucked in the backseat of a Ford Maverick in the ’80s.

Marilyn?  Jocelyn?  Eileen?  Marlene?

 

Something like that.

 

It was too long ago to remember, though.

 

Just too damn much space and time between that backseat and the booth he’s now sitting in.

 

And he laughs at himself.

 

3

Charlie finally arrives, looking a little older than the last time The Dude saw him.

“Sorry I’m late, man,” Charlie says.  “There was an accident…tractor trailer jack-knifed…carrying bananas!  Remember that song by Harry Chapin?  ’30,000 Pounds of Bananas?’  That’s what it reminded me of…I was like, whaaa?  …whuja order, looks good.”

 

“All-Star Special Breakfast.”

 

“I’ll do the same.”

 

The waitress comes over.

 

“Sir, can I get you something?”

 

Charlie points to The Dude’s plate. “Gimme some of that and some coffee.”

 

“Yes, sir,” and off she goes.

 

“So ya awright? All is well?” Charlie says.

 

“I’m here.”

 

“We’re all here, bro. One big happy fucken family.”

 

Charlie looks around and sees who’s there.  “I gotta win the lottery soon, man…gotta get up on outta here.”

 

“Uh-huh.”

 

Charlie shakes his head and nervously drums on the table with his fingers.

 

“So whatcha been up to?” Charlie says.

 

“The usual.”

 

“Man of action, arncha?”

 

The Dude shrugs. “It’s my life…”

 

“I feel ya.”

 

The waitress brings Charlie’s coffee.

 

“How long you been workin’ here, darlin’?” Charlie says to the waitress.

 

“About two years.”

 

“Ya like it?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

“Got any dreams?”

 

The waitress looks at Charlie like he doesn’t have the right to ask her that question and says, “Doesn’t everybody?”

 

“You gotta point there,” Charlie says. The waitress smiles and asks Charlie if there’s anything else she can get him. Charlie says, “No thanks,” and the waitress walks back to the kitchen, probably thinking Charlie’s crazy or something.

 

“Certainly have a way with the ladies,” The Dude says.

 

Charlie sips his coffee. “She wasn’t my type, anyway.”

 

4

Charlie finishes his breakfast, refuses another refill of coffee, then reaches into his pocket and hands The Dude an envelope.

 

The Dude reaches into his pocket and hands Charlie some cash.

 

“Always a pleasure,” Charlie says.

 

“Good luck on the Lotto.”

 

“It’s up to five hundred thousand.”

 

“Wow.”

 

Charlie shrugs. “You have your addiction; I have mine.”

 

5

The Dude goes back to his apartment on the west side, snorts some heroin, listens to Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and suddenly remembers it’s Halloween.

 

“Used to love Halloween,” he says, and he goes to the video store to rent “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown,” but the clerk behind the counter says, “Don’t have any copies left, man; they’re all out…it’s Halloween.”

 

“S**t,” The Dude says…

 

“I got Disney’s ‘The Legend of Sleepy Hollow,’” the clerk says…

 

“Not the same,” says The Dude, and he leaves.

 

6

The Dude thinks he feels like a drink, so he walks into a bar not too far from the video store, sits at the counter, and orders a gin gimlet…

 

He thinks there are worse places to be, and then he begins to list some of them…

 

Jail…

The hospital…

The morgue…

 

He can’t think of other places to add right now, but that’s okay.

 

Those seem to be The Big Three, as far as he’s concerned.

 

The Dude’s drink arrives, and he thanks the barkeep.

 

“Normally, this slow on Halloween?” The Dude says.

 

“Pretty much,” says the barkeep, and he walks to the end of the bar to ask the man with dark skin and bushy eyebrows if he wants another Woodford Reserve neat.

 

7

The Dude finishes his third gin gimlet, pays the tab, and wanders outside.

 

Notices a funny smell in the air.

 

Mildew combined with something else; pesticides, rotten eggs, sewage.

 

Can’t really tell.

 

“Weird,” he mutters, and then, pulling his coat collar up around his ears, The Dude heads west toward the harbor.

 

His cell phone rings.

 

“Yo,” The Dude says…

 

“Dude.”

 

“Yaa.”

 

“I gotta talk to ya, man.”

 

“Who’s this?”

 

“Randy”   He’s practically hyperventilating…

 

“What’s up?”

 

“Man, I want a drink so bad… I’m goin’ through some real s**t… I’m stressin’ out…you know I lost my job…now it looks like the bank’s gonna foreclose on me…”  He groans. “I’m tryin’, man, I’m tryin’; it’s not easy.”

 

“You can do it; it’s in you.”

 

“I’m gonna end up in a f****n’ shelter, man.”

 

“Better there than dead.”

 

“How did you do it, man?  How do you do it?”

 

“One minute at a time… one hour at a time.”

 

“Wowhhh…”

 

“Kick its a*s, man. It’s your choice…”

 

“Lissen if i slip…”

 

“You’re not gonna slip.”

 

“If I slip, I’m sorry…”

 

“You’re not gonna…”

 

“Just want you to know, you’re the best f****n’ sponsor I ever had; I just want you to know that.”

 

“You’re gonna be alright.”

 

“’Snot the worst thing in the world, though?  If I slip?  I can still do a do-over, right?”

 

“You’re not gonna slip… stay strong…change your focus… go for a jog, somethin’, just keep it movin’.”

 

Randy’s breath slows down.  “Holy Christ!”  Pause.  “You there?”

 

“I’m here”

 

“I’m tired, man… so freakin’ tired.”

 

“You’re alright.”

 

“Thanks for being there.”

 

“No problem.”

 

Pause.

 

“Yeah, lemme go joggin’ or somethin’,” Randy says.  

“Take my mind off this s**t… thanks, Dude.”

“Call me anytime.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

As The Dude hangs up, a female voice calls out to him…

 

“Hey, baby, you doin’ alright tonight?”

 

The Dude immediately unfolds his phone and dials a number.

 

“Yo, Charlie.”

 

“Wassup?”

 

“I need you to talk me down, man.”

 

“What’s goin’ on?  Another hooker?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay, just relax. Change your focus, man; you can do it; it’s in you. One minute at a time, one hour at a time, you got it, the choice is yours, just keep it movin’…”