Fragmentation
Part 3 of a three part story of the dissolution of a life
The second-to-last time I saw Dan I was very drunk. It was evening, maybe early afternoon. I’d been drinking Lagavulin on the back porch for hours. Our local Murphy’s Market had it on sale for $75 a bottle for about a year, and I made the most of it. I’d already burned through half a pack of American Spirits, the darker turquoise pack. They used to be called full flavor, or maybe regular, before it became illegal for cigarette companies to imply that some cigarettes were better for you than others. I was sitting back there crying, having an argument with Sam. Sam was sitting on the top step of the little back deck, trying to console me by injecting a little perspective into the situation.
“At least it wasn’t your fault!” I screamed at Sam
“I mean, it sucks your mom died, but at least she didn’t do it to you because of how much of a piece of shit you are!” I was kinda leaning halfway out of my folding chair, so I could get down in Sam’s face.
I don’t know what happened next, all I have are brief flashes. Timothy and Dan suddenly there. Timothy against the wall, my fists gripping his collar. Shaking Timothy while I sobbed and yelled at him. He still has a scar on his forehead from where my tooth punched a little hole. I came out of my blackout sitting on the deck, punching the boards as blood poured from my knuckles. I stopped crying and looked at my bleeding hands in confusion.
“What happened?” I asked
Sam made a disgusted noise, got up, went inside. I didn’t remember any of what I had said to him and I was baffled by his response. I looked at Timothy, getting scared when I saw the blood on his forehead.
“What happened to you?”
“What happened to ME?! YOU!”
“I did that?”
“yeah, you did,” said Dan
“What happened to my hands?”
“You kinda punched the wall as you fell, after I pushed you off him,” said Dan
“Then, you more than kind of punched the deck a few times. What’s the last thing you remember?” said Timothy.
I stood up, reaching for steadiness.
Pain started to thud through my drunken stupor.
I sat back down in my chair, lit a cigarette, and finished my scotch.
“Last thing was talking to Sam, then I came-to on the floor.”
“You should go apologize to him,” said Dan
“What did I say?”
“I’d rather not tell you, I think it’s good you don’t remember; You didn’t sound like yourself at all.”
I went to bandage my hands and find Sam.
“Hey,” I said
“What?”
“I don’t remember what happened out there, but Dan said I owed you an apology. I’m really sorry if I said anything that hurt you, I know you don’t need that right now.”
“Whatever, it’s fine,” he said shortly.
It wasn’t though. Not ever again.
The last moment of my friendship with Dan, I was very drunk. The Sunnybrae Skillbillies (we called ourselves that when we played music together) had gathered at Dan’s house to play. We’d been there for many hours, writing songs, playing songs, talking nonsense. I walked down the hall and caught a glimpse of one of Lisa’s bras hanging off Dan’s bed. As my guts got all twisted the front door opened and I heard Lisa walk in. Terror. I didn’t know how to see her here. I know I said hi to her and I know I drank more and the night is a blur until my last crystal clear memory of Dan. He asked me to come out front with him. Weird. We never spent time out front of his house, the cul de sac made it awkward.
“I think you need to stop coming by for a while,” he said.
“I think it’s just hurting you to be here, and I need to think about the safety of my family,” he said.
“Do you think I’m a threat to you?” I said.
“I don’t think you know who you are right now,” he said.
New things broke inside of me. I have never felt more shame than I did in that moment.
“I’m sorry you are the one who got hurt by this,” he said as he gave me a huge hug, turned, and walked back into his house. I fell to my knees on the sidewalk and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe. Then I picked my stupid, broken, drunk ass up off the concrete and walked home.
15 years later I live in Eugene, Oregon.I have a hobby farm, I run a bakery, my wife runs a preschool and my kids are starting elementary school. This morning my kids asked of they could let out and feed the ducks and chickens by themselves for the first time. I still miss Ed.