Echoes of Criticism

Outside the window of the living room, I notice the sunlight is beginning to dim as another day has reached its end. What wasted weeks I have spent marking off the calendar day after day. Little blank boxes on the page quickly filling up with big bold X’s. Opportunities may be waiting out there with a bright future in store for me. As much as I desire to go out in search of them, I cannot seem to budge. I am lost in life as if I have wandered off familiar trails. Every tree looks the same now so how can I find my way back?

Headlights shine through the window as my girlfriend, Bailey, returns home for the evening. She walks directly into the kitchen with a couple of bags of groceries. Tossing her keys on the table, a loud clatter startles me as they contact the polished wood. Cupboard doors squeak and the cans scratch against the wooden surface as the food gets put away.

One split second later, Bailey walks out holding my bottle of whisky screaming at me, “What the hell is this, Everett!”

The harshness in her voice as she demanded that I leave now echoes off the walls. I grab my coat and rush out the door, slamming it behind me in a heated rage of anger. She has been losing her patients with me for a while. I should have seen this coming. “Just walk it off,” I whisper to myself, “I know she must still love me.”

Heading toward the market on the corner of my block, I observe the faces of those who pass by. Most are in a hurry to get home after a long day at work. They rush past me in a fast-paced walk. Women hugging their purses tightly by their sides with slight fear in their eyes as they occasionally glance up from their downward stare. Worried about muggers who may be roaming the area, they try to make it home quickly before the sidewalks clear of witnesses; the time when the creepers hiding in the shadows began to prey on anyone left out here alone.

I stop inside the market to purchase a pack of Marlboro menthol smooths along with a bottle of Aquafina water. The cashier, barely starting his night shift, full of enthusiasm, hands me my change, “have a nice night,” he tells me.

I walk back outside only to bump into an elderly, homeless man panhandling. I gave him the sixty-eight cents in change I had in my hand from the purchase. A couple of quarters, a dime, a nickel, and three pennies are more appreciated by him than I. He smiled and thanked me as I replied, “no problem man, stay safe tonight.”

Sidewalks quickly cleared of the people as I continued with my walk. The revving of vehicle engines zooming by declines until quietness sets in. Standing under a street light on a nearby back road, I spark up a cigarette. As the cherry gets burning, I gaze out into the emptiness of the night. Escaping the chaos at home for a moment to myself, I sigh in relief. Taking a few more drags off my cigarette, I think of somewhere to go, but nothing comes to mind. Spaced out, I just stare into the sky as stars appear. I just want a chance to start over. Have I gone wrong somewhere in life?

Screeching in the distance breaks my train of thought as I turn my head to see a couple of cats fighting over a chicken bone. My cigarette has finally burned to its filter so I flick it on the ground and stomp it out. Dirty old habits are hard to break. I start walking toward the park while contemplating my existence. I’m thinking of starting a new life, leaving this town, and dressing up in stylish, high-quality suits. Maybe I’ll even dye my hair and change my name.

Light reflected off the steel slide in the middle of the park as I made my way down the windy path filled with tightly condensed yellow sand with stones lining the border. Candy wrappers and empty juice boxes littered on the ground by the children who were playing out here earlier in the day. A few coats and lost hats left behind; even a forgotten pacifier a fussy baby probably dropped on the ground while being pushed through the park in a stroller.

I crack the seal on my water bottle as I unscrew the cap and take a chug; feeling the cold water moisten my dry mouth and flow down my throat and esophagus. Sitting down on the bench in the corner of the park, I spark up another cigarette. Darkness grows deeper as the night goes on and the breeze becomes chilly. Dwelling on the words yelled at me at home before I ran out the door. Have I really screwed up that bad as much as she screams it at me? The words echo in my head, “you’re nothing but a screw-up!”

Casually walking my way, I see a female figure in the distance. I didn’t notice when she was in the shadows, but I recognize her from back in high school. Victoria. Back then she had long straight hair, dark brown with blond highlights, and a beautiful face. I see her around town every now and then, but she had become more of a stranger these days. People change so much over the years and sometimes travel the wrong paths just like I have been doing myself lately. As she reached my general proximity, she calls out, “Hey, don’t mean to intrude, but could I bum a smoke off you, ”

I walked over to hand her a cigarette. Up close I could tell how she has let herself go. Her hair wasn’t so shiny anymore, the coloring dull and pulled back into a messy bun. Early stages of wrinkles starting near her eyes, trying to hide it behind makeup. We got to talking and she invited me over to her place. I figure, why not? I have nowhere else to go tonight anyway.

We talked the whole way and caught up on life after high school. All the changes that occurred and the obstacles we are facing now as we are both reaching our 30’s. Her place was pretty far out on a dead-end road near the pond. No green grass to cover the yard, just gravel. It was an old rundown two-level apartment with a couple of boarded-up windows. Inside was a coffee table cluttered with junk mail, ashtrays, dead lighters, and paraphernalia.

A couple of guys sitting on the couch were kind enough to offer me a spot to sit next to them. “This is Jack and Tim,” Victoria introduced me as she hung her coat up on the rack and headed into the kitchen for a snack, “I’ve got plenty of food if you’re hungry, Everett,” she announced to me with generosity.

Jack and Tim were laughing and joking with each other about their day and sipping on whiskey. They offered me a shot, but I paused as I thought to myself. Isn’t this exactly what provoked Bailey to kick me out earlier? Victoria came back into the living room. “Yeah, come on, take a shot with me, Everett!”

So I accepted the shot even though I did not truly want to drink anymore. I’ve been wanting to quit and rebuild my life, but I wish to escape now. I wish to let go of everything and smother the troubles of my life. Victory pours the four of us another shot, “What a great night to forget everything going on and just have a little fun,” she says in a playful tone.

I start to feel the relaxing effects as I see how easily my problems can be drowned in this whiskey. The comedy playing on the screen in front of me doesn’t make any sense anymore, but I still manage to catch the humor and laugh with my new acquaintances. It is definitely a great night to forget about everything.

After crashing out there on the couch for the night I woke up only to remember my problems again. I’ve been wanting to change, to run away from who I am. This never-ending cycle, just a temporary relief, does me no good. The effects wear off and I am still surrounded by the same disappointment; the same disgust in myself. The smell of settled tobacco smoke lingers in the room and the odor from the alcohol I sweated out of my pores overnight. I don’t want this anymore. I have no idea when this addiction fully took over, but I wish I could regain my control.

Victory walks out into the living room. Her hair was still wet from her morning shower. She is wearing a jean mini skirt with fishnet tights, and a sleeveless, black blouse. Her words almost flew over my head as I fixated on the sudden attractiveness of her appearance. “Towles are in the cupboard if you wanna shower, Everette.”

A refreshing hot shower was exactly what I needed right now. When I turned the faucet on, steam quickly filled the room. I step into the shower, soaking my hair, feeling the warm water wash away all the dirt and filth. Thoughts of what happened last night crossed my mind. Bailey was angry with me, which hurts because I really am in love with her. Now she thinks I am nothing more than a lazy alcoholic who will never amount to anything. Noon rolled around and I decided to head back home to talk things out with Bailey.

Upon approaching the house something started to feel a bit wrong. A couple of boxes full of my clothes, some old mail underneath, and a few notebooks. I guess she really wanted me gone for good. I had kept telling her I was going to change. I told her I was working on it. I guess the change didn’t happen fast enough for her. She doesn’t want me anymore and I highly doubt she has any desire to give me another chance. I’ve really blown it now, haven't I?