A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [203]
I smile.
I am.
He hugs me. I hug him. My Brother speaks.
You ready to go?
Yeah, let’s get out of here
I pick up my bag and I open the door and I climb into the backseat. As I close the door, Bob and Kevin get in the front seats and Bob starts the car and we pull away. I turn around and I watch the Clinic recede into the distance from the back window. I am free to go. Free to go. Free.
When I can no longer see the Buildings, I turn around. Almost immediately, the Fury starts to rise. As if the walls of the Clinic kept it in check, as if my freedom is its freedom, as if my walking papers were its walking papers. The ascension is fast and brutal, and though I’m not shaking on the outside, I am shaking on the inside.
Kevin turns and he looks at me and he speaks.
How’s it feel?
I see Bob looking at me in the rearview mirror.
I don’t know.
Bob speaks.
What’s that mean?
I don’t know.
Kevin speaks.
What do you want do?
I want to go to a Bar.
What?
I want to go to a Bar.
You’re fucking kidding me.
No, I’m not.
My Brother Bob is looking at me in the rearview mirror. Kevin looks at Bob, Bobs look at Kevin. There is concern, dismay and shock on both of their faces. Bob looks back at me, shakes his head.
We’re not going to a Bar.
You might not be, but I am.
You just got out of Rehab.
I’m going to a Bar.
You just got out of fucking Rehab.
I am going to a Bar. You can come with me or not, either way is fine, and you shouldn’t waste your time trying to stop me. I’m going to a fucking Bar.
Bob looks at Kevin, Kevin at Bob. Kevin shrugs, Bob shakes his head. I light a cigarette and roll down the window. Even though it is cold, I like the air. It is free.
The drive takes an hour. No one speaks. Bob stares out the front window, Kevin stares out the front Passenger’s window, I stare out my window. Occasionally I stick my head out and let the freezing air whip against the skin of my face. It hurts, but it feels good, and I do it because I can. I no longer have Rules and Regulations I have to follow, I no longer have Counselors and Supervisors and Psychologists demanding answers, my schedule and my actions are once again my own. As it was before I went to the Clinic, and as it will be until the end, I answer only to myself.
We pull off the Highway and into the City. I look at the clock on Bob’s dashboard it reads eleven-thirty. I ask him if he knows somewhere that is open now and he says yes. I tell him I’d prefer a place that serves cheeseburgers and has a pool table. He does not respond. He just stares out of the front window.
The Fury has risen. It is at full strength, it is beyond full strength. It is different now, at this moment, it feels different. It feels stronger, quieter, more patient. Simpler and more powerful. As if it is secure in its victory over me. As if the fight with me has fortified it’s might. As if it knows its time has come again, as if it is waiting to unleash itself.
I don’t fight it. I don’t challenge it. I sit and I wait and I anticipate my arrival in a place that feels like Home. I sit and I wait and I save myself for what is to come when I step inside a Bar. The Fury is stronger than it has ever been before. I sit and I wait for what is to come.
Bob pulls into a small Parking Lot. Next to the Parking Lot is a large brick Building. There are tall dark windows along the front of the Building. There is a neon sign that reads Billiards, Bar and Grill.
We get out of the truck. I don’t have any money, so I ask Bob if I can borrow some. He asks me how I much need and I ask him for forty bucks. He asks me why I need so much and I tell him because I do. He takes his wallet out of his pocket and he opens it and he gives me two twenties. I thank him.
We walk through the Parking Lot. We walk along a short stretch of sidewalk. We come to the front door and I reach for it and I open it. I motion Bob and Kevin through, and after they have gone through, I follow them inside.
It is dark. There are tables in front of us, a long, worn oak bar runs the length of the wall to our right,