Nothing to Look Forward To, Nothing to Look Back At
Ihaven’t stopped drinking since my first night out.
It’s been one month. I am alone, I am depressed, I am shitfaced at four o’clock in the afternoon, and I just don’t fucking care.
I have no idea what to do with myself.
The couch has become my new best friend. I’m sitting in the “living room” with the TV off, wrapped in a blanket, snapping bottle caps across the room. Like literally taking them between my thumb and middle finger and snapping so they fly against the wall.
I hear the lock click. Mac is home early from his day job. Some stockbroker thing he’s got going with his uncle. I hear him huff, but I don’t turn to look at him. I’m just going to sink deeper into my hole. My black lair of depression. I hear him shuffle around the apartment, take a shower, and get dressed. There isn’t much you can’t hear in here. Then there are heavy footsteps until he’s standing right in front of me.
“What. The. Fuck. Man.”
“What?” I look up at him vacantly.
“Are you just going to sit on this fucking couch for the rest of your life?”
“I don’t hear the couch complaining.”
“Maybe not, but you’re going to start hearing me complain. You have been out a month, and you haven’t done jack shit.”
“What’s there to do?” I ask bitterly.
“Take a shower for one. You stink. Clean up this fucking mess. Go outside for a walk.Something.”
I just shrug petulantly.
“Look.” He fiddles with the cuff on his button-up shirt. “I’m going out for an early dinner with Ashley. Then I’m going to promote for a little while, and then we’re meeting back here. I don’t want her to find the VIP of New York’s biggest pity party sitting on my couch. I don’t want her smelling him either.”
“What do you care what she sees or smells? You couldn’t care less what women think.”
“Maybe this one is different.”
“Oh really? That’s a first.”
“Look, Ryan, I’m trying to be patient. But I’ve seriously had enough. I told you to come live with me so you could start fresh. Find a job, meet someone. Not follow in your mother’s footsteps.”
I glare up at him. “Fuck you,” I spit. “I’m nothing like her.”
“Oh yeah? Have you looked at yourself lately? You’re the mirror fucking image.”
“Fuck off.” My responses are not very novel this evening.
“You fuck off,” he barks. “If you don’t fix yourself, you’re gone.”
“You’re tossing me out? What kind of fucking friend does that?” I bark.
“The best kind. Now pull your shit together!” He thunders out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him.
Fuck my life.I punch the pillow.
* * *
I wakeup to something being flung in my face. I pull the shiny material away from my cheek.
“Wakey, wakey,” Mac chirps.
“What the fuck man? What time is it?” I groan.