The Longing

Chapter One

1

I would find myself some mornings in places, I’m not really sure how I got there, but my car would be parked outside and I would find another ATM, pull out some cash and go find my brown bottled friend, to comfort me. The beer would numb the pain, and it was my only friend. My life seems to be drifting away and I don’t care, as long as my bottled friend is my hand, it’s all that matters to me. Soon I would wake and see where I am, do the routine over again, and I would be afraid to look into the mirror. I didn’t want to see what person I have become, what person that may be staring at me.

Women wouldn’t satisfy me no longer, I didn’t f*****g care about them, not the way my drink satisfied me. And I knew the brown bottle would always be there when I wake up, so who needed women. Drink after drink, my life spiraling downward…

It wasn’t always this way. I did at one time have a life, a family, and a wife…

But she left me for some s**t head with no talent; I hated her for leaving me, I still do. Left me in debt up to my ears after our divorce. That’s when I started, that’s when the drinking began, just shortly after that… my brother…

            “I need a drink, I don’t suppose you have one on you do you doctor? Have a drink somewhere in your office?”

            “I’m sorry,” his voice sounds sympathetic. “I thought you quit.” He adds.

            I thought about it before he even asked, and I answer, “I did.”

 

            It is a sickness I have, not one can admit to being an alcoholic. And I admit to saying I quit, but in fact, I still do drink from time to time. But I was not always this way.

           

            “Mr. Beardy!” the doc calls to me, “I hope you are not trying to change our conversation?”

            “Change? What conversation?” I rise up on my elbows and look at him. “I’m the only one doing all the talking, and you’re just sitting there with your f*****g pad listening, are you even listening to what I said? Or just pretending you care what the f**k goes on in my life.” I found myself standing before him.

            “Lawrence, may I call you Lawrence?”

            “I don’t even know why I am here in the first place.” I blurt out.

            “You are here to get better Mr. Beardy. It seems to me you have some issues you need to get rid of. To talk of…” He leans forward and put down his pad.

            “Who the f**k do you think you are? To tell me I have issues!” I said with anger.

            “Mr. Beardy, this is not helping. I am trying to be your friend; I want you to tell me. Why did you stop at your brother? I think we were starting to make progress.”

            “This place is for crazy people, you know that! And I’m not f*****g crazy okay! You’re the one that’s crazy… sitting there with your expensive suit. Whose idea was this anyway? I want to get out of here. I need a f*****g drink!” I turn to look out his window, staring out his skyscraper office.

            “You’re free to leave anytime you wish, no one is holding here. I know you’re not crazy Mr Beardy. And I thought you said you quit drinking?”

“I did, why am I even listening to you,” I rub my face in frustration and let out a sigh, “I’m… I’m trying.”

“Have you tried AA?”

“F**k that!” I turn my head. “That place is more fucked up than I am.”

“I do have another alternative, a theory really, if you’re interested?”

“I’m listening.” I gaze again out the window.

“I understand you are a writer, yes?”

            “Yes.” I c**k my head to listen what else he might have to say.

            “Have you tried writing the things you feel? The things that may haunt you, maybe it will help, if you are not ready to be open. I suggest, write out your feelings. Being honest with oneself is a way coping what ever it is that is bothering you Mr. Beardy. And if you like, we could do both.”

            “Both?” I turn to face him. “I’m sorry for my outburst doctor. I go bonkers when I need a drink, I f*****g crave it, if you know what I mean.”

            “It’s perfectly alright Mr. Beardy, its understandable.”

            “Lawrence.”

            “Excuse me.” he clutches his hands together.

            “Call me Lawrence.”

            “Right,” he sits back. “Lawrence, and you can call me Phil.”

            “Are you shitting me?” I let out a laugh. “Doctor Phil!”

            “Yes, I do get that a lot and the answer is no. I do not know, that b***h on TV.” He grinned.

            I cracked up laughing, “You’re the first shrink I met, that has a sense of humour. This is going to be one hell of a relationship doc! Put her there.” and I put out my hand.

            “I don’t like to be preferred as a shrink,” he said as he grasped my hand. “It doesn’t sound manly, if you know what I mean.”

Reviews

[Lily Mae]

xo

[Norma M Sutton]

Sounds like the beginning of a long and interesting journey.

[Tina Kline]

Very realistic. I think you did a good job getting the beginning down of the struggle to get better. Its an uphill climb with lots of sliding down and climbing back up again. Hopefully one reaches the top and mostly stays there. Really nice job.

[Wicahpi]

Good beginning and since I work in a Rehab, even more curious.
I've told a few to "Write it out" and they actually do.
Seemingly it helps a bit. I think your dialogue is well done with
a bit of humor scattered about, which I enjoy. Well done so far.

[deeps]

I really enjoyed this write here. This is aamazing chapter. Wonderful imagery and such vivid detail as well. I like this. Very well written.