In the near future
My mind flashes to the last night I saw my dad alive. I can see the beer fizzling in his glass in front of me, his giddy grin, and the joy in his face. The memory plays inside my mind in slow motion like the happy scene in a movie. Stuck in the loop of my memory, I can still see the candlelight flickering on the table. The smell of fresh bread and well seasoned steak lingers through the air and the sound of my family's laughter fills the room.
Dampness spills down my cheeks. I hadn't even realized that I was crying. Wiping at my tears, the bittersweet memory lingers. I take a swig of my champagne to wash it away.
For the next several days, I do a lot of nothing. Instead, I sit with the ache of grief. The pain is gripping and mimics the sensation I imagine one would get with an elephant sitting on their chest or perhaps the beginning stages of a heart attack.
Why did nobody warn me that you can literally feel the pain of grief in your body?
Pondering this, I move on to whiskey. Its warmth burns my esophagus just the way I like.
While I day drink and become a shell of a human being, my crew keeps SeaPaints afloat on the other side of the bridge. Meanwhile, I continue to melt further and further into my bed, whiskey glass in hand, and Zofran on my nightstand.
I spend most days like today, staring blankly at the wall, hating everything and nearly everyone. The anger over my father's death has begun to consume me.
I however, just keep consuming whiskey.
Admittedly, it barely numbs me. I'm that full of rage.
My mind momentarily flashes to Molly. I can't but wonder how she's doing.
Her words echo inside my mind. “I need you in my life. We could build an empire together. I love your face you whore! I can't imagine my life without you!”
Her voice rings inside my mind, clear as day, as if she's standing right next to me.
On that note, time for another drink.
This time, I switch to vodka.
A burp escapes me. The stench of alcohol and spaghetti seem to fill the room.
Tomorrow is going to be a rough morning.
Which is particularly unfortunate because I'm supposed to be getting on another plane tomorrow.
Next stop Arkansas.
Who's idea was this SeaPaint tour anyway?
