Midnight Catalyst | ONC 2024

Chapter 4: A Reminiscence for Tomorrow

My mom and dad had just left the cemetery. My mom looked weak, as if she spent most of her ride here in tears, which just might be why. My dad didn't look high-spirited either; all he could manage the entire day was a faint smile. They stayed here for a couple of hours, after which my dad explained that it was better if they left soon. Understanding the situation, I ensured that they had a comfortable ride back without discussing anything about any events from the past. My dad did, however, find time to reinforce the message of not driving back to campus, as he knew that I was going to get wasted tonight. I reassured him, letting him know that I took a cab here and was planning to return in the same way, so he had nothing to worry about.

I had to hurry from my dorm as I missed my alarm and woke up late; my initial thoughts of catching up on a meal during the day have now completely vanished from sight. My mother was understandably sad today, as was my dad. On the other hand, I couldn't say that I felt the same kind of sorrow. There was a fleeting sense of sadness, regret, and guilt, but I couldn't pinpoint a single emotion until they all meshed up into a single lack of emotions and an eventual buildup of numbness. I was beginning to get numb to all of this.

This was the first time in a lot of my interactions with my dad that he didn't point out my habit of smoking, urging me to quit it while I still had the chance and youth. He normally was persistent in making me quit; he himself understood the long-term effects of the addiction to smoking and was an addict himself. But today, he didn't smell of cigarette ashes; today, he smelled normal. And by normal, I mean a distinct lack of smell. I'm not a hound dog; I can start identifying people by their scents now, am I?

I didn't get to talk to my mom a lot today. She seemed very distant, very weak, and always looked like she was expecting someone to come. I didn't question her about her behavior, though; it felt rather insensitive to do such a thing at such a time. My brother was the one who was closer to my parents; I was generally the one huddled up in my room playing with Sam or doing something on my own while my brother was actively helping my parents with the house chores, discussing his day, or some other mundane activity or event that he brought home from his life. I think my parents always wanted me to be like him, although they never actually expressed it.

I brought a small suitcase and a backpack with me. The suitcase was just a change of clothes and a book Sam had given me in the past. The backpack had a few beers in it. Once my parents left, I sat down by my brother's grave and pulled two beers. Leaving one for him on his grave, I opened mine and slowly started to sip on my beer after some time. I watched the army of various kinds of weeds wrapped around the grave. Slowly, I started plucking after them, trying to clean the grave, knowing that my brother was a clean freak.

A beer and a couple of cigarettes later, I stood up, said my goodbyes to my brother, and ordered a cab to meet with Sam. Sam was buried in a different cemetery nearby. On my way to the cemetery, I made a quick stop by a liquor store and bought a crate of beers and a bottle of wine. Another quick stop later, I had a few wine glasses with me as well. The sky had turned a dusky gray by the time I reached Sam. The cemetery looked empty, apart from the various gravestones poking out of the ground.

I sat down by Sam's grave and pulled out the book he gave me as I opened the beers. Soon, I started downing the beers as I started to read the book. The night passed, and the beers were emptying at a steady pace as well. At almost halfway through the book, I was done with most of the beers, with only two more left. I left those beers along with the various assortments of flowers and gifts left for Sam from various different people, mostly his family and siblings. I then pulled out the bottle of wine and unscrewed it expertly as I poured a glass each for both of us. I stopped bothering with my glass after I was done finishing its contents and directly reached out for the bottle after the next sip.

Sam and I were buddies since childhood; I'd known him since I was ten. We knew each other for almost ten years before his passing. Sam wasn't a loner like me; he was outgoing, very empathetic from a very young age, and a genuinely warm person to hang out with. He didn't mind staying with me when I locked myself in my room, reading books or playing video games when the other kids used to play something outside. He was also the one who introduced me to smoking, a trade he learned from the likes of my brother.

My brother and Sam were, I guess you could say, dating. My brother was just two years older than me and a year older than Sam. When they first announced this, it did come to me as a huge surprise; while I knew Sam was gay, I never knew my brother was too. When I exclaimed in surprise at this revelation, they seemed confused, as they assumed it was obvious. They had only started going out for a couple of months before it could have matured into anything long-lasting.

I did like their couple. They were cute together. And they seemed extremely happy. It was weird initially to see my brother and my best friend go out, but eventually they grew on me. While I wasn't the most close or connected brother to ever exist, I liked that Sam was dating someone like my brother and vice versa, with my brother finding someone like Sam for himself. I did try to interject in their personal space a couple of times, as I was worried of the aftermath that could have taken place if their relationship did not work. I cannot assume that it would be easy for Sam to keep hanging out with his ex's brother.

They kept reassuring me that nothing like that would happen, and Sam especially tried to keep assuring me that he wouldn't let such a thing affect the dynamic between us. Although I was extremely skeptical in the beginning, I soon saw that it wouldn't ever affect us. That was because I couldn't see them breaking up. Though weird to admit, they were surprisingly compatible with each other; one could almost say that they were perfect for each other, but I didn't want to jinx them.

A couple of hours passed by, and I could feel the alcohol in my body. I was done reading the book, although I could barely remember any of its content. Shakily, I stood up and stood there unsteadily as I reached out for my cigarettes. As I smoked one cigarette with content in my heart, I could feel the effects of the alcohol pulsating throughout my body, leaving me numb, distant, and extremely tipsy. After a challenging couple of minutes of me trying to book a cab back to my campus, I finally succeeded in finding a ride back to the dorm.

As soon as I got into the cab, a wave of nausea struck me. I faintly requested the driver to roll down the windows so that I could puke out by the side of the car. The driver, however, stopped the vehicle by the side of the road and helped me out of the vehicle as I puked almost immediately after having gone out of the car. After a while, I felt much better and sat back in the car as we continued the ride back to my dorm. I was still a bit queasy, but I was also confident enough that I wouldn't need to puke again.

After what seemed like an eternity, I got off the cab, somehow managing to pay the cab fare as I stumbled out from there into my dorm. I had to go to the fifth floor, the floor that housed my room. Ugh. I moved forward very groggily, flailing my body with every step I took. It was evident to anyone watching me that I was extremely drunk. As I took a few more steps to the lift, I realized I was stooping dangerously low and close to the floor. My body was almost on the floor, with my arms painstakingly trying to keep me from falling somehow. I should have gotten something to eat.

As I fought against this abnormal gravitational pull that my body was now experiencing, I heard someone call out my name. By this point, my vision was already very blurry. I couldn't make out the person, but whoever this was, they were shorter than me. As I tried to make eye contact with this person, my hands slipped, and I fell flat on the floor. I wish I knew what happened later, but all I remember is me trying to whisper something as I drifted into darkness.