The Visitor

Intoxication used to be euphoric but now I realize how distorted my perception has been as I self-destruct. My chapped lips kiss the bottle of whiskey and I feel the smooth caramel burning sensation tickle the back of my throat through my broken heart. I stumble through tall grass feeling the irritating sting against my arms. My undershirt sticks to my chest in this humid season as the rain clouds dampen the sun but not the heat. Sweat outlines the curves of my stubble narrow face as my work boots sink into the soft earth. I take refuge within this old barn from the setting sun peeking through the clouds.

They say when you’re alone the best conversations to have are with yourself. So let's talk. My mind flashes back to the night before in the town’s local dive bar. The neon lights buzzing above the entrance attracting moths, and mosquitos as well as troubled souls such as myself. I remember walking in with a few of my closest friends from work to blow off steam or maybe I just wanted a break from family life. I find myself feeling that way with no remorse each time I walk through those doors and it happens every night. My thoughts wander back to reality from this vague memory of the night before.

The cool damp barn is refreshing. I take another sip from the bottle, "Susie just doesn't get me!" I shout, “It’s like I can never make her happy! I’m just a piece of shit that is doing everything wrong. So what if I have a drink with the guys after work it’s no big deal. The kids are asleep, she’s got it covered and I work my ass off!” I feel my blood boil and my dehydrated eyes stick to my eyelids as I glare at the wall and take another drink. I light a cigarette shortly after to calm my nerves inhaling the smoke and breathing out the fire in my lungs. I calmly say, “Okay, I messed up. Last night proves I have a problem.” My head sinks as I sit on an old bench in the corner of the barn.

Last night I had a few too many like I always do and I tend to get rowdy. Bill has always looked out for me and tries to cut me off, but I just can’t seem to put the bottle down. He has this cowboy charm to him, old and wise wearing a reflective yellow shirt, always alert watching out for us. All of them were joking around having a blast as we sat at our usual booth. Except me. I don't know if it’s the pressure of being a husband and a father but the more I drank the angrier I grew. I interrupted my friend's laughter, and started talking about my miserable life. The cheerful atmosphere of that small bar died as soon as I opened my mouth in a raised voice. I can’t remember what I said but I remembered what happened next as Bill walked over to me nervously rubbing his calloused hands on his concrete and plaster stained jeans.

He rests his hand on my shoulder and says, “Frank I think you had enough let’s go get you something to eat you and I.” I brush his hand off to stand and say, “I haven’t finished my drink Bill.” He insisted, “Come on, let's go for a drive. We’ll talk.” He attempts to grab my beer and without thinking I throw a punch that knocks him to the ground. My friends swarm around me and hold me down against the table shouting and cursing. I look at Bill, my eyes tearful and full of shame as he gazes back with a wild look. The next thing I know I’m sitting handcuffed in the back of a police car staring out of the window my heart was full of guilt. Bill is rubbing his jaw but knocks on my window then says loudly, “Frank you’re about to lose everything if you don’t shape up. I’ll call Susie for you. Try to sleep it off.”

I woke up this morning with a head splitting hangover and a sore back from sleeping on the cold concrete bench. My stomach was tied in knots as I puked into the steel toilet. I could smell the sour stench of sweat and booze on my shirt. My mouth was scratchy and dry as I sighed with the vague memories of the night before. The guard let me out of my holding cell. I made my way to the main lobby and used the phone to call Susie for a ride. As the phone rang I murmured, “This should be good.” Suddenly my thoughts are interrupted by Susan’s soft muffled voice, “Hello?” I remained silent trying to find the words to say and just as she was about to hang up I responded, “Susan It’s me.”

“Frank,” She sighs in a disappointed tone. I bang my head against my fist then continue, “Susan I got arrested last night when I was out with the boys. I’m sorry. Can you come pick me up?” “Listen Frank,” Susie says, exhaling her anxiety then works up the courage to say sternly, “I packed up the kids and I’m staying at my sister’s for a while.” My heart sinks and I feel the rush of adrenaline fuel my anger as my head throbs with the heavy news. My voice raises threateningly, “What do you mean you packed up our kids? I’m their father.” She elevates her voice to my tone and says, “Since when?! You’re never there! Your'e always out and I can’t remember the last time you’ve been sober around the kids or me. Nothing makes you happy anymore, not even the alcohol.” I retaliate shouting, “Nothing makes me happy?! You’re the one always arguing and upset! Nothing I do is good enough! All I need is some alone time after work to clear my head, is that so wrong?!” She shouts back, “Frank you have two choices: your family or the bottle.” She hangs up.

I take a fifteen minute cab ride to the house and sure enough the closet and the kids dressers are cleaned out. My footsteps echo in this silent shell of a home and I take a moment to enjoy the solitude and grab a bottle of whiskey. My anger fueled me as I began to drink and the voices in my head started to scream as I remained completely oblivious to this monster I have become. I wandered out into the empty fields of my property and that's why I'm here alone in this barn with the monster inside my head.

I finish my smoke and stomp the charred cigarette butt into the ground and look around this run down barn. The floor is littered with dead strains of grass and dirt. The walls and wooden pillars are worn with splinters. The muddy smell of moist wood fills my nostrils and I continue to talk to myself, “Why can’t I stop? Why do I hate my life? I wish I could be the man my family needs.” I take another sip from the bottle and feel my warm tears run down my cheeks. And without warning I felt this surge of frustration and threw the bottle against the wall. The glass shatters and then something strange happens.

The day grows dark as if the night crept in like the wind and the chirping crickets and locusts buzzing through the fields grow silent. I feel the barn vibrating subtly and watch as blue lightning illuminates the clouds and without warning a shining streak shines down to the center of the barn. A blue sphere sways softly like a campfire as it grows into a figure. I can’t believe my eyes as this energy takes the form of a man then stands and whispers softly, “How much does your family mean to you?” I feebly answer drunk and dumbfounded, “They mean everything but I don't deserve them. They’d be better off without me.” The figure shifts to my side and touches my shoulder. It feels like an electrical current surging through every molecule in my body to my mind and I begin to see this monster I’ve become with searing pain through my eyes.

I see myself screaming at my wife flipping over the table and watching my two boys rush over to their mother trying to protect her. I yell at her accusing her of turning them against me then walk off to get another drink. And my entire year is full of these memories I had forgotten about it's no wonder she left me. I see and feel all the experiences rush through my chest and the figure lets me go. I fall to my knees and ask, “What have I done?” The figure then says, “You’ve done enough. Is this really the person you want to be? Give them up. You got what you wanted, peace and quiet so you can drink. Or did you have something better in mind?” The figure touches my shoulder again and I see myself watching the fireworks down at the lake with Susie when we fell in love. I remember the tears in my eyes when I held my two boys for the first time and the plans I made to be a good father even though I was scared shit less.

I pleaded, “I can be better! I can do better! Just tell me how and will they ever forgive or love me again?” The figure answers, “The only way they’ll ever love you again is if you learn how to love yourself. Love your life and treat yourself with care. Only then can you heal from old wounds that made you drink and you’ll become the man you know you can be.” “I have a problem," I say, "I want to change but I don’t know how.” The figure lights up the barn and charges into my body and I’m lifted off the ground paralyzed as I feel this surge of energy that forces the alcohol out of system, then it releases me as I fall face first to the ground. My body rejects the burning substance as I vomit in waves until I pass out.

Since the incident I've never been able to stomach alcohol. I checked myself into rehab shortly after. I’ve been two months sober and I have yet to call my wife and kids. The nurse calls me to the front desk. My wife is on the other line. I pull out the hand made cards my two son’s made for me. They are canyon drawings of us out in the field holding hands or me driving the lawn mower. I take the phone into my hands and hear Susie tell something I haven’t heard in years, “Frank I’m so proud of you.” My heart beats for the first time and I feel the love and determination to make it through.