Long Road to Ruin

The worn soles of my Chucks slapped the pavement as I slammed Jay’s apartment door behind me and entered the cold world outside. The harsh early winter wind whipped through my hair and left my exposed face and ears burning with numbness. A chill ran down my spine, and I shuddered. I had left my coat behind. Fortunately, the unfamiliar weather was now the last thing on my mind.

The unpleasant conversation with my soon to be ex-wife had my thoughts reeling. I had never felt more hopeless than in this moment. A million thoughts were rushing rapidly through my defeated mind, and the static noise that they created was almost too much for a sane person to bear. How could I have even thought that whiskey shots and a cheap fuck would really be worth all of this?

Had I even been thinking at all, or was it just attention I had been seeking all along?

Suddenly, I flashed back to that moment. My psyche caused me to relive the intoxication and the virginal feeling of embarrassment that had washed over me the minute my jeans and underwear hit the floor. I relived the feeling of her curious hands, the feeling of her skin against mine, the feeling of a deed so dirty and dishonest that it brought an unrivaled amount of shame that was currently settling in the pit of my stomach. Even in my distant memories it made me feel like hell. I couldn’t take this one second longer.

It was at that moment that I realized that Jay had followed me outside. I had slipped into a torturous daydream and, in doing so, had become a dark silhouetted figure on the sidewalk, unmoving and silent. He had a strange look on his face, almost as if he was witnessing the main attraction of a black market freak show. His head was slightly tilted, and his eyes had widened and filled with an emotion that was obviously confusion.

“Look, man, I know that was rough, but there’s no need to bail on me. Come back inside,” he said calmly. His invitation was comforting, but it wasn’t one that I was in the mood to accept.

“Do you know me at all?” I said coldly. By now we had been through this routine several times, and he knew very well that returning to the root of the problem, or at least the places that I associated with my problems, was out of the question.

With that being said, I turned my back to Jay and began to walk away from him. My legs moved in large and exaggerated strides. I carefully examined each and every crack in the sidewalk as I walked. For what seemed like the millionth time, warm tears were falling freely from my eyes, stinging my wind burned face as they descended to the ground. A choked, sorrowful gasp escaped from my throat.

I couldn’t help to stop and think. I had a successful career, a household name, fame and fortune. I had everything than anyone else would ever want. However, it was clearer to me now more than ever that this was not what I had really wanted out of life. I wanted more. In my selfish state of self-pity, regardless of all of the things that I had done to hurt other people, I still found the gall to demand more out of life.

“I’m such a fucking prick,” I mumbled aloud. The human mind has the capacity for some strange things, this I knew for a solid fact, but I’d never been so conflicted in my life. It’s almost as if my identity had been split between two beings, a partnership resembling that of Batman and the Joker. It was enough to make my head explode.

“You’re right,” Jay’s voice emanated from not far behind, carried on the wind. I stopped suddenly and turned to face him.

“What the fuck did you say?” I snarled.

“Cut the theatrics, Beej,” he said mockingly, daring to use an old and personal nickname. “You know what I said. I said that you’re right. You are a fucking prick.”

“I am, hm?” I questioned, my voice was becoming elevated. “Then why have I been here for so long? Why did you take me in? Why didn’t you just fucking kill me and take my money like you intended to in the first place?”

“Maybe because at that point in time I didn’t realize how much of a self-absorbed fucker you really are,” he started. I tried to cut him off, but he continued despite my efforts. “Everything is about Billie Joe, isn’t it? What Billie wants is what he gets, at all costs. You wouldn’t even be in this situation if you’d just kept your dick in your pants.”

“Shut the fuck up,” I yelled. My face was now turning an even deeper shade of red to accompany my elevated pulse. I walked towards Jay, livid. How could this stupid man think that I had really had a choice in the matter? Had he forgotten that I was drunk when I allowed my dick to escape my pants? Sure, maybe I shouldn’t have gotten drunk in the first place, but I’ve done so hundreds of times and only ended up cheating on Adrienne once.

My tightly curled fist collided with the taught, pale skin of his face. A small gasp came from his mouth and it appeared that I had at least surprised him with my act of violence. The surprised facial expression was soon replaced with one of anger and he grabbed my shoulders firmly, pushing me backwards and nearly causing me to lose my balance. I noticed that his lip was bleeding. I must have made a pretty solid connection.

If I had been wise, the fight would have ended there, but I couldn’t get over the fact that he had turned on me so quickly after pretending to be my friend. I stumbled back up to him and threw another punch. This one sent him tumbling to the ground. He lay there, limp, seemingly unconscious. I interpreted this as my cue to run.

I turned on my heel and gasped for air as my stride gained momentum. The cold winter air caused a sharp pain in my chest every time it rose and fell.

“I guess I really am alone,” I thought sorrowfully as I jogged by buildings, street lights, and park benches. Jay really had been a friend to me and I found his sudden change of heart to be extremely confusing. He had seemed to be a nice guy, allowed his life to be an open book, but there was obviously something that he had been hiding.

I shoved these negative thoughts from my mind. There was no reason to let such an insignificant human being add stress to an already stressful situation.

I ran for nearly ten more minutes before a combination of the weather and my weak constitution disallowed going any further. I stood, crouched over next to a pay phone, my hands resting on my knees in an attempt to keep my body upright. The city was alive at this time of night, as usual, and it really was an object to behold. The winter season had brought tourists of all ages to Chicago to do their Christmas shopping and visit with relatives and friends that had made a home here.

Was it really almost Christmas? Time had flown since I’d arrived here and I would have to find a post office so that I could send gifts to my children. Maybe even to my wife. Diamond necklaces make every woman happy, right? I could definitely hope so.

My thoughts were interrupted when I noticed a sleek, black Cadillac parallel park in an alleyway across the street from where I now stood. I waited and watched, curious. The newly waxed body of the vehicle was beautiful. This was noticeable because residents of cities such as this are usually not car owners; instead, they rely on taxis to get around. The driver’s door swung open and the driver stepped out of the car.

My eyes widened, mouth agape.

The driver was a stunning woman appearing to be in her mid twenties. She wore a sheer blue shirt that partially revealed her midriff, a black velour miniskirt, knee high boots, and had several scarves wrapped around her neck. I recognized this woman.

It was the prostitute.