A Million Little Pieces - James Frey [205]
The Fury screams pick it up pick it up pick it up. The Fury screams drink it drink it drink it. The Fury screams more more more more more. The Fury screams want need have to have can’t live without I own you, Motherfucker, pick it up drink it give to me or I will make you pay. More more more more more.
I open my eyes. I see the clear amber brown, the tip of my nose submerged, the rim of my glass. I start to slowly lift my head. I keep my eyes straight ahead, fixed and focused, they will not blink. The liquid disappears from view, the rim of the glass disappears. I see shelves and bottles, the edge of the mirror. I keep moving up I see the edge of my chin, my lips, my nose. I keep moving up. I see the edge of my eye, the lash, the white surrounding. I keep moving up. I see pale green. Straight ahead. Fixed and focused. They will not blink.
I look into myself. Into my own eyes. There is a glass of alcohol in front of me. Though I can no longer see it, I know it is there. I put my hands around it. My hands are on the glass. I look into myself. Into the pale green of my own eyes.
The Fury is screaming. Screaming like it has never screamed before. Its scream is stronger and more powerful, full of rage and need, of hostility and hunger. It is screaming for me to pick up the glass. Pick up the fucking glass.
I have a decision to make. It is a simple decision. It has nothing to do with God or Twelve of anything other than twelve beats of my heart. Yes or no. It is simple decision. Yes or no.
I look into myself. Into the pale green of my own eyes. I like what I see. I am comfortable with it. It is fixed and focused. It will not blink. For the first time in my life, as I look into my own eyes, I like what I see. I can live with it. I want to live with it. For a long time. I want to live with it. I want to live.
The Fury screams bloody fucking murder. The Pale Green softly speaks. It says you are mine, Motherfucker. You are mine and you will always be mine. From this day forward I own you, I control you and you will do what I tell you to do. From this day forward, I make the fucking decisions. You are mine and you will always be mine. You are mine, Motherfucker.
I let go of the glass. I look at the Bartender. He is sitting on his stool and he is reading his newspaper. I speak.
Barkeep.
He looks up.
Yeah.
Dump this shit out for me.
What?
I motion to the glass.
Dump this shit down the fucking drain. I don’t want it.
He stares at me for a moment like I’m crazy. I stare back and let him know I’m not. He stands and he starts walking toward me. I stand and I walk away. I leave the glass on the bar and the two twenties next to it.
I walk into the Room with the pool tables. My Brother Bob and my friend Kevin are finishing a game. There is one solid ball on the table, one striped ball, and the eight ball in a corner. I sit down on a stool along the wall. There is table next to the stool and an ashtray on the table. I light a cigarette.
As my Brother lines up a shot, he sees me sitting in the corner of his eye. He looks up and he speaks.
You all right?
Yeah.
What were you doing over there?
Nothing.
Did you drink?
No.
Why’d you order one?
It was something I needed to do.
But you didn’t touch it?
I touched it and I smelled it and I felt it, but I didn’t drink it. I’m done drinking. Won’t ever do it again.
He smiles.
Congratulations, Buddy.
I smile.
Thanks.
As my Brother lines up his shot, I ask if I can play the Winner. Kevin asks me how long it’s been since I played and I tell him it’s been a long time. He asks me if I’m ready and I smile and I tell him that I am. He asks me again he wants to make sure. I tell him yes, I’m ready.
Yes, I’m ready.
•••
Michael returned to work at the University. Three weeks later he was arrested for Solicitation of Prostitution and Possession of Crack Cocaine. He died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound.
Roy