Read The Drunk Logs Online

Authors: Steven Kuhn

Tags: #General, #Fiction, #Literary

The Drunk Logs (11 page)

BOOK: The Drunk Logs
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“I noticed that you didn’t bring any extra clothes, Barry Eugene. So, if you want to sleep naked, that’s fine with me.”

With a quick limp, he exited the room and hobbled down the hall. I chuckled and grabbed my tote bag, walked over to the sink next to the door, and turned on the water. Still ashamed by the face I saw, I hurried with the teeth brushing, proceeded back to bed, and threw my tote bag back into the closet. I grabbed the Big Book from my nightstand and slid into bed. Like burning wood, the book crackled open as I started to read;
if I got only a few pages in before the medication kicked in, at least it would have been a start
, I thought. I fluffed my pillow and got comfortable.

Chapter 6

“Good morning, gentlemen; isn’t it a great day to be sober?” Carl said joyfully as he poked his head into the room. “Breakfast starts at 9 o’clock and your lecture times are in your daily schedule. For those of you who will be seeing the doctor today, he will be making his rounds this morning. Have a wonderful day, gentlemen.”

In the distance, Carl’s voice could be heard as he repeated the same speech to the room across the hall. Complacent, I started to roll and stretch, like a cat in front of a blazing fire.

As I sat up in bed, I gathered my senses, rubbed my hands across my face, and painstakingly maneuvered to the side of my bed. I looked back and squinted at the clock above the door that read 7 o’clock; the loud snore below it from Barry Eugene kept time with the second hand.
Looked like he made it back all right
, I thought, when I realized that most of the patients were still asleep and I jumped out of bed to open my closet. I pulled out my shorts, shirt, and underwear, grabbed a towel from the brass hook by the sink, and ran out the door.

I quietly opened the shower room door and listened to hear if anyone was inside. To my relief, the only noise that echoed in the room was the squeak of the door. I walked in and noticed wet towels and a large puddle of water in front of one of the shower stalls. So, I grabbed one of the black plastic chairs by the window, slid it over to the nearest shower, started to take off my clothes, and immediately jumped in and turned on the water. It was better than a cup of coffee, as the cold water jolted me alert and pushed me back against the tile wall at the same time I turned the handle to hot.

I understood I couldn’t be late for the doctor’s visit, and quickly washed and opened the curtain, when I noticed again the bacteria-ridden mess of wet tiles and water on the floor. I toweled off and got dressed in the shower. I was almost done, when I realized that I couldn’t find my shoes. Frantically, I looked in the shower and on the chair, but to my dismay, they were nowhere to be found; they were still by the side of my bed. I looked around and decided to use my towel as socks and shimmy across the tile to the door.
If anyone would have seen me, they would sure question my behavior
, I thought. But to my relief, no one came.

The doctor was only a few rooms away as I darted down the hall and into my room, where Barry Eugene still lay fast asleep. I threw my pajamas and towel into the bottom of the closet and ran back to the sink to brush my teeth. Nervous, I started to feel cold, so I took a deep breath and stared at myself in the mirror.
I
will
get out of detox today
, I thought. Confidently, I strolled back, sat at the side of my bed, and patiently waited for the arrival of the doctor.

As I looked out the window, I was aware of a quiet stirring behind me from Barry Eugene. The colors from the leaves were vibrant, something to which I had never given much attention. Long overdue, I became one with the silence that was outside. There were brief glimpses of my life before the damage I had caused to myself and others, and even the present situation and the unforeseen future. But I fought against those thoughts and focused on the calm of the image before me, for it might be a while before I felt it again.

“Matt. The doctor will be in in a few minutes,” Karen said as she tapped on the door.

I nodded my head as she walked over, and stared at Barry Eugene asleep.

“Matt,” she said as she looked back over her shoulder. “You can’t talk like that to Barry Eugene anymore. He went to Carl last night and complained that you wanted to sleep with him. He was screaming about how he hated homosexuals and if they come onto him he’d kill them. It took Carl and two of us just to get him to go back into the room to go to sleep.”

“He went to Carl?” I said as I grinned. “Now that, I wish I could have seen.”

“It’s not funny…” she said as the doctor interrupted her.

“Matt H. So how are we doing today?” he said as Karen stepped aside.

“Feelin’ pretty good,” I said.

“How is your appetite?”

“A lot better than before.”

“Well, hold out your arms,” he said as he gently placed my hands in the palm of his hand.

No, no, no, no, no, I mouthed the words.

He released my hands and wrote on his clipboard.

“Well, you’re still shaking, but it’s not as detrimental as before.” He took a deep breath. “So you can be released from detox.”

My shoulders dropped as I released the stress from my body.
Finally, I could get out of this crazy floor and go up to where the normal patients were
, I thought.

“Well, you’re still going to have to take the medication for your symptoms, but I see here that your blood pressure is starting to be controlled. I know you’re happy to get out of here, but you still have a lot of work ahead of you.”

“Hey doc, can you check me, so I can go home?” Barry Eugene mumbled as all eyes turned toward him.

“This is Barry Eugene S., the patient we previously discussed with you,” Karen told the doctor.

The doctor walked over to him and flipped through his clipboard as Barry Eugene sat at the side of his bed with his arms stretched out, his hands shaking uncontrollably.

“My chart says that we need to perform a few more tests on you, Barry Eugene, before we can proceed with treatment.”

He put his arms down. “What treatment? I want to go home today,” he said, becoming agitated. “I’ve been coming here by mistake. I was supposed to go to the corner store and got left here by my wife. No one will let me use the phone to call her or my daughter to come to pick me up and it’s like I’m stuck in the
Twilight Zone
or something. It’s nice that you gave me some clothes, but I had to give you blood for them. Also, you keep giving me pills that make me fall asleep and you stick me in a room with a faggot. I mean, is this some kind of gay hotel?”

The doctor leaned over to Karen and whispered in her ear. Quickly, she exited the room.

“Look doc, look at my arms!” he said as he shoved them out in front of him. “Look, I’m Superman. Look at me fly. Is that what you want?”

He laid his face down on the floor as the doctor cautiously took a step back.

“Do you want me to do push ups? Here, I’ll do push ups, 1…2…3.” His arms strained with every motion.

Karen entered the room with Carl, and they looked around for Barry Eugene. I pointed downward to the floor behind the bed. As the doctor moved again, Carl passed him, reached down, and grabbed Barry Eugene.

“Come on, Barry Eugene, let’s go down to the nurses’ station,” Carl said as he struggled with the dead weight.

“I don’t want to go to the train, I mean nurses’ station. I want to go home.”

“We’ll go down there to discuss you going home. Okay?” Karen said soothingly.

“Okay, because I’m going home today, it was a mistake that I got put here.” His voice faded as he hobbled down the hall.

The doctor tapped the back of his clipboard as he walked toward the door, and gave one last, stern look before he left. “It’s all up to you now,” he said.

I sunk to the side of my bed, ashamed of what I had done to Barry Eugene. A little fun was all I wanted.
I never wanted to be the cause of so much turmoil and shouldn’t have gone that far with someone as sick as him
, I thought.

“Matt, you can go to the nurses’ station and tell administration that you’re being transferred to the non-detox floor and would like your new locker key,” Karen said as she leaned into the room. “Don’t forget to turn in your old one.”

“Uh, okay. Thanks.”

I checked my pockets to make sure I had the key, walked to the nurses’ station, and replayed the situation that Barry Eugene was in, oblivious to the horde of patients around me. I had never witnessed complete desperation before, and wished I could apologize to him, but decided it wouldn’t have been a good idea, considering the state he was in.

I approached the hole in the wall and waited for the next available nurse.

“How may I help you?” a young, thin, white, dark-haired nurse asked.

“Yes, my name is Matt H. and I’m being transferred to the second floor. I’m supposed to get my new locker key.”

“May I have your present one?”

“Yes.” I handed her the key and stared at her breasts, where the Matchbox car print on her uniform looked like Tonka trucks.

“I’ll be right back,” she smiled.

She returned from the records cabinet, my file in hand.

“Here you go,” she said as she handed me my new key. “Just go ahead and pack up your belongings and take the elevator to the second floor.”

“To all patients, the 10 o’clock group will start in 10 minutes. The 10 o’clock group will start in 10 minutes.”

“Thank you,” I said as I slid the key into my pocket. Quickly, I wove my way through the patients in the hall, and completely forgot about Barry Eugene as my excitement grew.

Back in the room, I threw my suitcases on my bed with abandon and opened my closet door. Hurriedly, I shoved my belongings into the suitcases, still in their neat and proper order. I threw the duffle bag over my shoulder, and looked around the room to make sure nothing was forgotten. I started to leave and clicked the handle up from my bag. The wheels of the suitcase hummed as I sped out the door.

“Sorry, Barry Eugene, but I am out of here,” I said, as I looked back one more time and saw a cleaning woman wheel her cart into my room as the elevator bell rang.

Chapter 7

Impatiently, I stood and wished the doors open as I pushed the second floor button one more time. A bump in the elevator signaled I had reached my destination as the heavy door opened tiredly. In my imagination, a heavenly fog rolled, engulfed the elevator car, and carried me to a place of purity, where all the figures were angelic, with golden wings and faces of gods.

“Watch it, buddy,” one of the figures said as he passed. I was transported back into the reality that lay before me.

It was like a busy train station depot, where all the people were of different makes, models, and sizes that used to be on the first floor; being clean was their only connection. They all walked in the same direction, when it dawned on me that they were all headed to group. I saddled up to the side of the wall and hastily pulled my key from my pocket. My room number was 245, and I sped down the hall.
It didn’t matter which direction I went; I’d find out soon enough if I was going the right way
, I thought.

“230…232. Good, I’m going the right way.”

Hmmm.

“245.” I opened the door and held my breath.

No one was inside, but I was quick to notice, with fresh towels on the bed and an empty closet door open, that again, I had the bed closest to the window. I rushed over and threw my bags down. As I grabbed my information folder, I looked to see where my group met and then dashed out the door.

“Room 2A, 2A,” I repeated to myself, as I turned left and followed the herd.

I turned right down another hallway and noticed the patients as they started to fade into different rooms. The black and white sign on the vanilla wall, next to the first open door, read “2A” and I entered.

A large desk sat against the far wall, facing a large window. Eight red desk chairs stared at one another from across the small room. A young, tiny, white woman with short blonde hair and blue eyes, sat at the desk in her oversized brown leather chair, nervous, perhaps from too much Prozac and caffeine. Nothing was said as I entered the room with my deformed face. The woman smiled, leaned forward nervously, and stretched her arms out to the chairs like Moses did when he parted the Red Sea.

“Dude, you finally made it up here,” Bobby said as he slapped me on the back.

He passed and sat to the left of the entrance; I filed next to him.

The young woman leaned back, as the remainder of the group scrambled into the room.

“Hey, Peter, didn’t see you. You’re gonna have fun in this group,” Jack Jack said, as he sat in the chair closest to the young woman’s desk.

I was happy to see Jack Jack.

Pat, who was the last one to enter, closed the door and sat in the end chair opposite Bobby and me. He realized that I was the new member, smiled, and gave me a nod.

“Good morning, group, and how is everyone today?” the young woman asked.

The entire group incoherently mumbled.

“Good. Now let’s start the group off like we usually do, starting with your name and your purpose here.”

“My name is Jack and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.”

“My name is Robby and I’m an alcoholic.”

“My name is William and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.”

“My name is Pat and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.”

“My name is Matt and I’m an alcoholic.”

“My name is Bobby and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.”

“My name is Ben and I’m an addict.”

“My name is Craig and I’m an alcoholic and an addict.”

“And I am Maureen Ballstik, alcoholic, addict, bulimic, and your counselor.”

They were all alone, beaten, diseased, and old before their time; I looked around the room and realized that I, too, was also one of God’s masterpieces that had cast themselves aside.

“All right, we’ll pass around the sign up sheet, but before we get started we have a new member in group, and I would like him tell us what brought him here,” Maureen said and smiled.

BOOK: The Drunk Logs
8.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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