Page 60 of Capacity
“What’s up, Knight?” He asked. I couldn’t make myself talk though. What should I say? How should I say it? “Yo, Knight. You there?”
“Yeah,” my voice was shaky and dry. “I’m here.”
“Did you fall off the wagon, Knight? Something in your voice isn’t right.”
“I came so close, T. I had the glass in my fucking hand.”
“Are you at the bar?” He quizzed. I heard movement on the other end. Shuffling and a door opening then closing.
“I’m at home.” I hung my head low letting disobedient strands of hair fall over my forehead. The entire kitchen smelled like whiskey. It pushed me further down the hole I was digging for myself. I was trapped down there with self-pity and confusion.
“I’m on my way.” He ended the call and I went to the living room. I stood in front of the mantle, staring at Hazel’s smile and bright eyes.
How the hell could I let myself care about another woman? I knew better. I didn’t even have the capacity to handle my drinking problem let alone a relationship with another person who came with their own issues. I was doing Lumi a disservice.
I picked up Hazel’s picture. It was one where she smiled into the camera while I kissed her cheek and held her hand. I tried to remember what her lips felt like on my cheek but all I conjured up was Lumi.
Bittersweet shards stabbed into my heart.
I’d give anything to have Lumi beside me while I struggled with my own darkness. It was such a pitch-black place that I felt blind. That’s when Lumi would come in handy the most. She was the absolute light of my life. Her name was more fitting than she realized.
She was my ray of sunshine. My angel. She was too fucking good for me.
I sat Hazel’s picture on the mantel again and fell to the couch. I stared at the TV’s black, reflective screen and caught a glimpse of myself. I was tortured. I saw it all over my face.
I don’t know how long I sat there staring at my own twisted agony through the blank TV screen but Terrance ringing the doorbell snapped me out of it. When we stood face to face, he shook his head, the corners of his mouth downturned.
“I can smell it in the air, Knight. Jesus.” He slid his hand down his face. “You sure you didn’t drink any?”
“I swear to God, I didn’t drink any of it. I was ready to, but I didn’t. I poured it out. Tossed the glass in the sink.” I took T into the kitchen and showed him the cracked glass along with the empty bottle of whiskey. He nodded somberly then gave my shoulder a tight squeeze.
“You did good, Knight. I know how hard that had to be. What triggered it? This fight with Lumi? I told you to apologize, man.”
“It’s not that. Well, not completely.” I leaned against the fridge and folded my arms. A frown creased the space between Terrence’s brows.
“Hold that thought, Knight. Where’s your bleach? I can’t hold a conversation with even the faintest smell of liquor in the air. My mind won’t be able to focus.”
“I’ll clean it up, man. I ran water in the sink but you’re right, you can still smell it.” I got to work wiping out the sink. I tossed the chipped glass and went on the hunt for the single chunk that broke off. When I didn’t see it in the sink, I pushed my hand down into the drain and fished it out. Not before slicing my fucking fingers on it’s sharp and jagged tip though.
When I pulled my hand out, it was slick with blood. T winced at the sight then handed me a bunch of paper towels to clean up with. I couldn’t stop thinking about calling Lumi with my fingers bleeding profusely. She would have made sure I was patched up nicely. I pushed her away though because that’s what the hell alcoholics do when they don’t want to face the truth. They push. They deflect. They—weruin.
“I shot Mr. and Mrs. Wells today,” I tossed the bloodied paper towels in the trash and ran water over my fingers. Once most of the blood washed away, I saw how deep the cuts were. I’d sliced pretty far into my pointer and middle fingers.
“Fuck. I don’t know why I didn’t think to check on you after you were done.”
“It’s cool, T. I don’t need a babysitter. If I can’t be trusted to make the right choices on my own then what good is AA doing?” I shrugged my shoulders and pressed fresh paper towels to the cuts on my fingers. “Anyway,” I continued, looking down at the blood eating through the pristine white. “Seeing them together and seeing how quickly Mrs. Wells got tired, and how frail she was. It brought back a slew of memories about Hazel and I couldn’t deal. I had to get the hell out of there before I had a break down in front of my client.”
My heart pumped grief and sadness into my veins. I replayed Mrs. Wells and Hazel both in their hospital beds surrounded by pillows and blankets to make them comfortable as possible. I hated that phrase.
As comfortable as possible.
It was the nail in the coffin. When the oncologist said those words to me about Hazel, I knew there was no point in hoping anymore. She was going to die. It was an inevitability that held so much gravity it sank me to the core of the earth.
I knew that’s how Mr. Wells felt. I saw it etched into his features even though he tried to keep a strong face. I saw past it.
“I know firsthand how all of that feels.” Terrance dropped his gaze to the floor. He kneaded his hands and fingers then said, “It’s suffocating. It’s enough to make you want to crumble and give up. That’s when you have to reach outside of yourself. You have to sink your energy and focus into something else…someoneelse. Sometimes you have to share the burden.”
“Lumi,” I said, tossing the newly bloodied paper towels in the trash.
