Regret

With the weight of the world on his not so broad shoulders, Brian moved with solemness as the wind diverted his course.  Slowly and with great reserve, he took the step up, placing his feet upon the ledge.  The tallest building in the area, a chillingly cold breeze cutting through him like ice.  He closed his eyes, realizing for the first time how far up sixteen stories felt from this vantage point.  A wave of nauseum filled him and he wondered if he was going to be sick, fighting it off by closing his eyes, taking deep cleansing breathes, in through his nose, out through the mouth.  Internally he laughed that his body fought off sickness in that moment of his life.  A thought entered his mind, one that he had considered  as list of oddities that plagued him throughout his life.Why do they sterilize the arm, before injecting the solution that would take an individual’s life when executing the death penalty?  Other such paradoxes circulated through his brain, causing a wry smile to appear on his face.If 7-11 is open 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year, why are there locks on the door?Finally, his mental barrage of humor ended with, you pull up to your bank in your car  to use the ATM, why are the instructions for use shown in the written word and in braille?

Realizing he was using avoidance to control the sickness and as evasion of the matter at hand, he scolded himself mentally.  Further losing focus, he looked down at the foggy street below him:  Red streetlights, brake lights, restaurants running north to south, all places he once ate dinner at, celebrated life with the woman he loved.  The nauseum overtook him once again, causing him to sway in confusion.  The lids over his eyes squeezed shut, as he reflexively fought the squeezing muscles in his throat.  His body needing to purge.

With his eyes still closed, he considered the cold winter day, oddly similar to this one a year ago this month.  The day that caused his life to turn upside down in a spiral downwards, leading to a series of bad decisions and outcomes.  He had known happiness, what it meant to be a family, he had even known what it meant to be successful.  He had not known what it is to want in decades, had a lucrative retirement account and a savings that would allow him to live the life he had grown accustomed to, should things change.  Yet here he was.

The breeze cutting through his being, as tears fell down his face, he considered that day.  He had been in Long Beach at a convention, one that was not a good use of his time.  He was slated to be there Monday through Thursday, but by the time Wednesday rolled around he had had enough.  His brain was overfilled with information about advanced oxidation, reverse osmosis, nano-filtration and standard operating procedures for an aging seawater desalination plant.  Unable to sit through another class, he placed all of his stuff into his work supplied backpack and exited the conference room, hoping to get on the road before the southern California traffic made the thirty-mile trip home a three-hour terror.

Happy to see that the freeway had not yet back up, he released some of his angst by speeding far faster than the posted.  Rolling down the window, the cool air invigorated him, as Mott the Hoople’s “All the Young Dudes” blared through the speakers.  His mood vastly improving, using the steering wheel to play drums upon, allowing his out of tune voice to scream the words of the song written by David Bowie.

Over the course of several seventies’ classics, his mood lightened, speed decreased, and his mind began to consider that his girlfriend of two years may be at home when he arrived.  This would be the final push towards feeling good about life again.  In that moment, Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run” began to play, a smile flowed from his face, as he turned onto the street where he cohabitated with Rose.  He was filled with desire to see her; to hold her and to tell her how much he was in love with her.  It was not uncommon for the couple to tell each other that they loved one another, but today was different.  Brian wanted to tell Rose that he was in love with her and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

“Why is there a Tesla parked in front of the house?”  The thought was nothing more than a recognition that a neighbor had chosen to park in front of his house.  Not a major sin, but something that had always bothered him.

With angst against the owner of the white, battery powered car parked in front of his house, he pulled into the driveway, knowing that Rose would have parked in the garage.  Grabbing his suitcase and his backpack, he slammed the door shut and fished for the key that would allow him access to her.

His anxiousness grew as he attempted to slide the key into the keyhole, while balancing luggage.  One, two, three times and his anxiousness changed toward a direction of frustration.  Finally engaging the lock, turning it to the open position, the door followed.

Brian’s mind railed.  Images flashed before him, but his mind staggered to give them meaning.Why does she not have any clothes on?  His eyes closed tightly, trying to erase the madness before him.Who is this muscle-bound, tattooed….His thoughts were dashed to hear her voice.

“Brian…”  Rose stated the obvious.  “You weren’t supposed to be home…”  Hearing the futility of her own words, they trailed off, as Adonis raced to get his clothes on, this activity disrupted by the fact that he was unable to find a certain necessary articles of clothing.

Brian set his things down, rubbed his eyes, again, hoping to erase the vision before him.  His mind attempted to compute his next move and failed.  He was unable to look at the disheveled Rose or the man she was being intimate with any longer.  In Brian’s mind he had already begun referring to the still naked guy as King Kong.  Brian turned, walked across the living room, through the hallway and into his room.  Kicking off his shoes he collapsed on the bed.  The emotion of the situation had not settled in, only anger resided.

Sometime later, he was uncertain how much time had passed, Brian heard the front door slam.  He considered that Kong must have received the hint, getting into his environmentally safe car and driving off to whatever gym a man like him goes to look like that.  Insecurities swept over him like a tsunami.  Considering his small frame, his arm size and the fact that he’s been carrying all of theseconcerns since the fifth grade.  Even the tattoos, is that really what she wants?  Unable to control the rate of his thoughts, let alone the content, he wondered what kind of lover Kong was?  Always the subject of great concern, as Brian knew what kind of lover he was.  His self-loathing caused him to sink to a new low, considering why she would search someone like him out.  He thought they were in love.  He thought that they were moving forward emotionally.Seems that everything I thought was a lie.He recalled the violent tattoos on her lovers body, that massive arm mass and the neck that seemed to big for his head.

The bedroom door opened.  Brian jumped.  With rapidity of thought, he waited to hear the apologies, the excuses, all the ways that this was his fault.  Yet, there was silence.

Rose had entered the room, moved across to where their common dresser was and began removing her things, placing as much as she could into a brown paper bag. 

She’s not even going to fight for us?  His thoughts antagonized.  He considered all the time they had spent together.  All the happiness that was a part of their lives.  As he continued to consider, she had gathered her things and left the room.  Ultimately she left the house, their home for the last time.  She would never return for the remainder of her things, nor would she speak to him again.  Giving Brian ample time to build a case against Brian, allowing him to fill in the details the way an insecure man will do.

His conclusion?  That’s how horrible of a lover, partner, friend he had been to her all this time.The math in such relationships is always incorrect:  One faithful plus one unfaithful partner equals the faithful individual’s way of thinking that everything is his fault. The sum of his physique, abilities and love does not compare to that of the mighty Kong.

Standing on the edge, a drop of rain pelted him on the face, shifting his thoughts to the aftermath of his relationship with Rose.  The second tier of his illustrious fall festered within his being.

Brian enjoyed his success in the industry he practiced.  Furthermore, he loved the respect that his peers paid him, as a two-time salesman of the year winner.  There was nothing braggadocious about his feelings, fact was he is good at what he does and enjoyed imparting that knowledge to those that wanted to advance in their careers. 

What Rose had done to him broke him to his core.  This devastation made it difficult for him to get out of bed in the morning, furthermore, it ended his ability to care about the thing that had provided so much joy, his work.

Over a short period of time, his numbers flattened, no longer indicative of someone that led North American sales consecutive years.  When his boss asked him to lunch, not providing indication of why he wanted to meet, Brian showed up early, took a seat and ordered a glass of red wine, against company policy.  Two glasses in, Abram showed up.

His eyes were discriminating, seeing the empty wine glass next to the one that was nearly emptied.  Abram sat in the booth across from him, his silence becoming the loudest noise in the room.  After many moments, Brian’s boss asked, “do you plan on taking an Uber home?”  The unspoken intention being that he not drive the company care in his state.

Brian didn’t meet his eyes, didn’t answer the question, but did pick the glass up to finish it off.  Sitting up straight, he looked to his boss and clumsily spoke the words.  “I’m here.  What was it you wanted to talk about?”

A waitress approached the table, asking if they’d like something to drink, as she placed menus in front of them.

Abram looked up at the elderly waitress, who appeared to be the type that called customers “hon”, while frequently touching them upon the shoulder.  “I don’t want to appear rude,” he paused, fearing he was sounding rude, “I’m sorry.  We’re just in the middle of, well, a work thing.  I doubt we’re going to be eating and I promise you we’ll tip you graciously for your time.  Could we just have some time?”

“Hon,” she said without reserve, “you-all take as much time as you need.”

Looking at her name tag.  “Thank you, Florence.”

Brian began rubbing his finger across the top of his empty wine glass, thinking it might be crystal and would result in a high-pitched ringing sound.

“Brian,” Abram snapped, “do you mind joining me?”

Snapping out of his daze, Brian looked across the booth.  “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t need you to be sorry,” the boss replied, “just present.”  Suddenly wishing he had ordered something to drink, as he felt parched.  “Brian, I know you’ve been going through some personal things, and I know it hasn’t been easy.  It’s not my place to know the details of such things, but I am responsible for the results.  Results that you have not been achieving as of late.”  He paused to check in and see if he was being heard.  Confident he was, he continued.  “You were my best sales person, better than that, you’ve been one of the top three sellers over the course of the past few years.  Suffice to say that management has noticed.  You and I had a conversation a few weeks back about putting together a Problem-Solving Process.  I put together all the paperwork for the PSP that would get you back on course and you didn’t take one step forward.  I pleaded with management, but that meant nothing to them.  All they see is that their number one salesman is on the fritz.  When that happens to a refrigerator, you replace it with one that works.”

Brian’s eyes grew discerning, his ire growing in the form of bile at the back of his throat.  “A refrigerator?”

Abram regretted the comparison, there was a bigger point being made, but he saw the damage that was done.

“A refrigerator?”  Brian waved his hand as he stood, knocking over an empty wine glass causing it to shatter.  Standing at the end of the booth, he unleashed a tirade of four-letter words and insults upon his boss, stopping just short of saying something personal. With an unacceptable amount of alcohol in his blood stream, Brian raged from the restaurant and got behind the wheel.

Brian did not get in an accident.  He did not get a DUI, though he would have had he been pulled over.  He did receive notice two days later that his company computer and car would be picked up within 24 hours and that his employment was terminated.

A sudden gust of wind nearly pushed him back upon the roof, causing him to faulter, as he struggled to regain balance.  His clothing was sopping wet from the steady stream of rain that was now pouring upon him.  A full-body shiver consumed him, as his mind took him a step further down the trail of his descent.

Seeing himself as an outsider looking in, laying upon the floor, unshaven, unwashed, wearing the same clothes he had been in for a week, the world spun around him.  His current state causing him to be unaware of the crusted vomit on the side of his face.  Pushing himself up from a lying position, his hand slid out from beneath, finding the source of that which was on his face.  Still, none of it caused him any worry.  There were multiple empty bottles surrounding him, this was not the cause of his condition.  That was found on the ground near his feet.  His hand reached and found the rolled-up plastic bag, opening it, he glanced at the different colored pills.  Finding the shade that suited his need, he tossed it into his dry mouth and swallowed.

The dullard thoughts within his mind did not stop as the pill continued his near comatose state.  Fact was, the more he took, the higher he got, Brian could not get the thoughts from his mind.Had he really hit her?  More vomit was expelled.Am I really capable of driving away?  A hit and run.  Concealed by the dark of night, Brian thought he had gotten away with it, until he saw the video on the news.  They hadn’t caught up with him yet, but it was a matter of time.Barbara Irish suffered a broken shoulder, two broken legs and a massive concussion.  He heard the local news describe the situation, how she was put into a chemically induced coma, which would allow her swelling brain to normalize.Until she flatlined.  Brian lamented, tossing another pill within his mouth, wishing for his own flatline.

The pain was endless, the drugs would not take the sting away.  As a heartbroken, single, unemployed addict, he had no reason to continue.  Prison was around the corner, and he could not continue with the lie.  Lifting his foot, Brian took a step forward, beginning the sixteen-floor free fall onto the concrete.  With the realization that there was nothing below his foot,  his confused mind re-evaluated.  “Wait!”  He screamed internally.  “Maybe Rose wanted me to chase her, that relationship was fixable, we were in love.  I just needed to pursue her.”  He fell.  “Abram liked me enough to take me to lunch and prompt me to do better, I could have fixed that.”  The wind moved across his tumbling body, making the chill unbearable.  “I’ve never done drugs in my life!  I know people that work as drug counselors, all fixable.”  An eternal truth froze him, as he fell.  “The only thing permanent here, is this last decision I made."