Meth City-Chapter 1

Meth City


Alan walked up the long driveway to his parent’s house piss drunk, stumbling, half-dressed, a fifth of vodka in one hand, and a cigarette in the other. This wasn’t the first time this happened. I watched him suffer from my bedroom window every single night. Sometimes he would wander across the street in my front yard, and yell for hours, eventually my father, even though he felt bad for him, would have to call the police when his own parents couldn't. He made an embarrassing spectacle of himself almost everyday.
His parents by this time barely came out of the house. Alan’s father would try and quickly bring him inside when he was getting out of control, but he rarely succeeded. I don’t know why he was like that. At the time I didn’t understand what it meant to be down and out. I didn’t understand why Alan would do this to himself, but something about it all just broke my heart. While my friends, who often witnessed Alan’s scenes at sleepover parties, mocked him, I cherished him. I once secretly took a picture of Alan while he was outside working on his car. I took it from my front yard pretending to not notice him. I always pretended I didn’t notice Alan, but I did, and I think he knew that. He always made sure to smile at me when he would see me gazing dreamily outside my bedroom window. Those smiles warmed me to the core.


-------------------------------------------------------------------

“You never should have left me there! You never should have gone, Alan! I waited for you, and you never came back! I waited six hours for you in some ghetto neighborhood and you never came back!” Lily could feel her heart pouring out of her. She knew she wouldn’t be able to break him, and the look on his face now was proof. She had never seen such indifference in him. “Can’t you just say something?” She pleaded.
Alan sighed, his tired, drugged out body could barely stand upright. He leaned against the back of the sofa, and cleared his throat. “I don’t know what to say.” That was all he could manage to choke out even though he knew he was going to lose her. He saw it in her eyes when she yelled at him; she was going to leave him just like everyone left him. Fuck her. It wasn’t even worth fighting for anymore. He could just add another failure to his long list of failures.
“I just want you to tell me it is going to be okay. I just want to know that you can stay clean and that you will take care of me, but I know you can’t say that. I know that no matter what you promise me right now it won’t happen.” Alan shook his head as she spoke. He took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and pulled one out. He stuck it slowly between his lips and searched blindly for a lighter. Finally locating one in his jeans pocket he lit the end of his cigarette taking a long, slow drag.
“I’m sorry.”
Lily shook her head it wasn’t enough. She watched him disintegrating right in front of her eyes. She knew that anything else she said tonight wouldn’t get through his head. Drugs had a blindfold on him, masking his sight from the true nature of reality. It broke her heart. It broke her heart to leave him, but she just couldn’t do it anymore. She couldn’t hear one more lie or excuse; she couldn’t take another broken promise. She tried to calm down and remember the man she fell in love with. Not this man in front of her, but the one he used to be. She owed that man something. She reached out and touched Alan’s shoulder.
“I just want you to be healthy, and happy. I just want you to be okay, but I can’t be here anymore.” Lily felt the hard lump starting to form in her throat. She couldn’t speak. Alan stared at her. This was the hardest thing in the world for him, but he couldn’t say anything. HE couldn’t have any opinions. HE couldn’t even reach out to touch her, the woman he loved. HE couldn’t console her, and he couldn’t tell her it would all be okay. HE couldn’t do anything but stand in front of her as the man who has made her life a living hell for years. HE couldn’t do anything but hate her for leaving.
“I love you.” Lily whispered. She looked into his once beautiful eyes that had long gone dull and lifeless. Placing her right hand on his stubbly cheek she kissed him. That registered in his mind. The kiss spoke of lifetimes between the two of them. The feeling of her lips against his for the last time registered. Lily picked up the worn, old suitcase that had been by the door since he came in, and walked out. No last look back or anything.
Alan stood frozen leaning against the couch. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything. All he could do was feel the endless pit of horror growing inside of him. Rage and anger began to rush through his body in intense waves. He closed his eyes, and grit his teeth trying to hold it all back, but his hands started to form fists anyway.
IN ONE LONG BLOOD CURTLING, PRIMAL SCREAM ALAN LEAPED AWAY FROM THE COUCH AND GRABBED THE LAMP NEXT TO HIM SMASHING IT AGAINST THE DOOR. He pushed the couch, and smashed up the armoire punching holes into the deep oak wood. The whole world came crashing in on him. His whole body imploded inside of himself and then out. He couldn’t feel anything but blind heat and rage. The feeling consumed him, and he forgot about his cravings and just let this new feeling of rage become his drug for the moment.

Lily who had stopped walking long enough to hear Alan’s cry, and the demolition of their possessions, turned back to the house. If she walked back in there she would never be able to leave him again. The horror of that truth was not a welcome feeling. Biting her lower lip hard, she kept on walking ignoring the hot tears forming behind her eyes. The man she loved was in there, and she was walking away when he needed her most.

Alan pulled himself out of the wreckage of his apartment and stumbled into the kitchen. His whole body felt drained; the fatigue of his pain was taking away from any real feelings he might have. Reaching into the cabinet Alan grabbed a bottle of Vanilla Stolichnaya, Lily’s favorite drink, and the only alcohol in the house. He poured himself a giant glass and walked into the living room. He sat down on the carpet in the midst of all the wreckage. It was slightly metaphorical for him, the fact that he was sitting in a room facing physical evidence of his self-destruction. It was upsetting. Having already chugged down half the glass of vodka Alan sat numb to the world until he passed out from fatigue and alcohol.