All We Leave Behind

All We Leave Behind - Chapter Two

Two

My expectations of the booze had been too high. My head boomed with a new misery, a head ache that rocketed from the base of my skull up through to my eyes. Pulses of pain assaulted me as I righted myself in bed.  Beams of light were slipping through the cracks in my blinds and striping upon the walls of my room. A quick glance at the clock told me it was nearly three in the afternoon. I slowly shuffled through my apartment my eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the day. Glancing at my phone in the kitchen I could see the flashing light indicating there were messages waiting for me. I must have slept through the ringing phone. Perhaps the booze kept me from waking. I had no desire to face calls of condolence and feigned offers of help in my time of need. I could leave the phone and the messages for now, they’d keep. I fetched the newspaper that was waiting just outside my door. The usual sensational stories littered the paper. A compilation of terror instilling articles blended effortlessly with the mishmash of public interest puff pieces. The latest trends in fashion, what books to read, movies to watch, a virtual guide on how to live could be found within. Not immune, I caught myself looking too long at an advertisement for a purported must have men’s jacket before turning the page. As I continued my escape from the necessary with the exploration of the trivial I could almost feel normal. I could pretend that nothing had happened, that all was still right with the world. I could even pretend that the storm last night never occurred. The section entitled ‘City’ brought my attempt at disbelief to a shattering halt. ‘City Wracked by Storm’ headlined the page with a large photo of the skyline lit with lightning. The blurb under the photo read ‘The city was rocked by the worst electrical storm in years as power failed in areas and traffic accidents clogged roads all over the city.’ I cringed as I read a quotation from the police chief in response to the nine vehicular fatalities that occurred during the storm. ‘People have to be more careful when faced with these conditions or we could easily find ourselves breaking a record high with regards to these kinds of deaths. That’s a record no one wants to see broken.’ It sounded as if the police chief was indicating that the dead, my brother hadn’t been careful, they were the cause of their own deaths. I hated statements like that, blanketing, uninformed, looking for someone to blame.  I thought of the intensity of the storm, the way it lit the heavens. I wanted to believe the storm was at fault, that it alone was culpable for their deaths. Somehow this belief helped me, I’m not even sure why. Maybe everyone just needs someone or something to blame. 

I put the paper down, I’d seen enough. I had no desire to read more depressing stories and I was past the point where puff pieces could provide escape. My stomach churned from a mix of hunger, emotion and last night’s tall glass of scotch. I poured myself an orange juice. I doubt I could handle anything more substantial. I couldn’t stop thinking of my brother, the memories turning over and over again.

It was just days before Frank’s wedding. He was becoming increasingly nervous with each passing day. I’d been named the best man, something I was truly honored by. We’d been drinking that night and my loosened tongue was asking questions I normally wouldn’t. The room around us appeared fogged and partially spinning from the drink.

“So like how do you know she’s the one, and not like any of the others?” I was slurring my speech. Frank hadn’t had as many but he wasn’t too far behind.

“What kind of question is that? Like any of the others?” He was a happy silly drunk for the most part, just like me.

“What I meant to say, is why Megan? Why her? Why is she the one?” I was jarringly striking at the table with my outstretched index finger each hit in time with another of my questions.

“Whoa slow down there.” My brother held his arms up in the air as if I was holding a gun and then we both broke into laughter until it was replaced with an uneasy silence.  I watched as Frank’s face became sober, a deep seriousness setting in.