Drunken Group TherapyA Story by Calypso A story I wrote for my class “Hay Steven, wait a second.” His wife, Holly, stood in the corner nervously wiping her hands. “When you come home I’ll fix you a martini, just like the good days.” He paused and decided to say the thing that came to his mind. “I’m a grown man, I drink beer.”
The day Steven Quillin meet Holly happened to be the same day he was shot. That day was the worst day in his life. Before dawn his young dog ran outside and was killed. A few hours later his fiancée showed up, ring in hand and canceled the wedding. At least she had given him the ring back. Before stopping by King’s Jeweler he went to the bar for three Bud Lights and bad karaoke. By the time he came to the jeweler he was drunk. In King’s Jeweler a rough, masculine voice boomed for everyone to get on the floor. A tall, slim man stood in black with face covered and gun in hand. There was a mother with a small child huddled under the table crying and mumbling prayers. In the corner a middle-aged man was trying to hide himself behind the bookcase. Of the people there the person most afraid was the cashier. The robber had sharply shoved the gun under her chin. Steven has never smelled more fear in his life. Tears welled behind her large, green eyes. He felt sorry for her. She was young, pretty and most of all, helpless. Had Steven been sober he wouldn’t have been stupid enough to intervene. He pounced on top of the robber and grabbed the gun. While Steven fought for the gun the robber wouldn’t let go. They looked like children rolling in the floor, wrestling for the gun. What happened next no one was sure who caused it, but the trigger was pulled. Steven barely felt the hot metal graze his skin but he became afraid. Fear flooded though Steven’s blood like a poison. With the mixture of fear, booze, and adrenaline, he twisted the robber’s arm and broke it. Steven surveyed the wound with fingers and doing so left them covered in hot, sticky blood. As if nothing happened he pulled out the ring and said, “I want a refund.”
The lady with the kid was a doctor. She had looked over the wound and advised Steven to go to the hospital. According to her he would need some stitches but he felt like he also needed a full bottle of Tynol PM Extra Strength. Holly was a nurse at the time. She worked in the oncology center and to go to the cafeteria she had had to pass though the ER. “Holly! Holly! Do you remember me?” Steven called out as she passed by. The CNA nurse paused. She was on her way to lunch and had a lot on her mind. “Who are you?” Steven’s face seemed less bright as he answered, “It’s me, Steven Quillin!” Holly politely gasped, “You’re kidding! Back in high school you smelled like laundry detergent and Old Spice, but now you smell like beer… and desperation.” Steven didn’t become offended by the comment instead hr handed her his phone. “Apparently I’m not as desperate as you think.” On the screen was the local newspaper website. It showed the words ‘Breaking News’ in large, brightly colored font. The article dubbed as a hero but he knew his fame wouldn’t last its normal 15 minuets. In the photo he looked dazed but happy because he had been given his money back. After being discharged he ate lunch with Holly. The cheesecake was too rich and coffee too strong but they were able reconnected after so many years. Six months later they walked down the aisle at the local Baptist church to proclaim their love to God, his nosy family and her dying father.
Holly’s father did die. At the wedding no one knew he was a ticking time bomb. The two months following the wedding Holly’s father was laying on his deathbed. Holly took a week off to be with her father. When he died it was like Holly was no longer human. She spent all her time sitting in front of the TV watching sappy Lifetime movies. When Steven would come home from school he would make martinis for Holly and himself. They would sit on the love seat curled neatly by each other. They were so close they only had to whisper. He told her about the flashbacks of the day he was shot. She told him about her mother abusing her and her father. They laughed at jokes were relevant three years ago. They talked about their crushes on each other while in high school. It was one these nights that lead to the conception of their first child. When Holly found out she changed again. Steven couldn’t be happier, in fact he started calling it Gunther (assumed it would be a boy). Holly would sit up at night crying and Steven tried to console her, to think of the right words to stop the tears. She would sit and listen to whatever half-baked advice he would have. The main reason she even listened was that he would massage her back as he spoke. Of course what ever had had to say meant nothing because Holly never told him what caused her to cry; she would just leaving him guessing. One night she had enough of his nonsense advice so she ran into the kitchen and started up the blender. By the time Steven stormed into the kitchen she had poured two martinis and had started licking the top of the blinder. “What do you think you’re doing? Does that have alcohol?” “Sure does.” She mumbled indifferently. Steven’s face grew pale and he weakly answered. “What about Gunther? That could kill him.” “I aborted it.” Speckled flooded Steven’s vision and he had to sit down so he wouldn’t pass out. “Why do you call Gunther ‘it’? Yes we don’t know the sex, but call it by what it is a human, a child, our baby!” Holly had started tearing up. “You just don’t get it, and you never will. I cannot have the past be repeated. It was either it or me.” Steven wanted to castigate Holly with swear words, but instead he started for the door. “Hay Steven, wait a second.” His wife, Holly, stood in the corner nervously wiping her hands. “When you come home I’ll fix you a martini, just like the good days.” He paused and decided to say the thing that came to his mind. “I’m a grown man, I drink beer.”
Steven drove around until he saw the neon glow of a pool hall sign. He hasn’t played pool since high school so he went in. The air was a thick haze of cigarette smoke. Somewhere in the background Guns and Roses played softly. The bar was open but the tender was half awake. Steven order a pint of beer off tap and walked over to the only customers there. In the far right corner stood three, strong biker men. They seemed to be the type to wear black leather jackets religiously and have a tattoo that says ‘Mom’ on their arm. “Can I join?” Steven asked without a hint of fear in his voice. They stopped and looked at each other. One of them put out their millionth cigarette and said, “You look like those skinny Poindexter nerds I beat up in high school.” Steven took a sip of his beer, sat it down and pulled a pool queue off the wall. “Don’t listen to him.” The largest of the three said. Steven kneeled over and hit the 8 ball, “Don’t worry, I didn’t plan to.” The one who called him a nerd turned beat red and started growling swear words under his breath. “So why you here?” “The wife.” The two other bikers laughed but it sounded intimidating. As they shot pool the first talked about the Super Bowl and then a movie. As they drink more, the more they were willing to tell deeper, darker things. The other large man wasn’t much for words but he had a few choice words for his ex-wife. Apparently she had called him and threatened to call the police because their daughter stayed an extra night at his house. The one who called Steven a Poindexter started talking about being bullied in middle school. Of the four men each felt sympatric for him because they too had been bullied or abused. The nice, large man started crying as he talked about being abused by his mother. She would beat him with a book. He would bleed from his mouth, from his head but no one would listen to him when he cried or screamed. “She beat me real bad. Real bad.” He cried on Steven’s shoulder. Steven ran a hand though the man’s long greasy hair and said, “I can fell for you. My mom disowned me when I dropped out of college.” “My whole life has sucked. It’s been like life put a flaming bag of dog crap on my door and I have no way to out the fire out.” He drank the bubbles from the bottom of the glass. “The Mrs. aborted our baby.” These men were strangers and had he been sober he would have not said anything but it still felt good to get it off his chest. “That’s sick, I’m sorry.” “What’s even worse is that she’s suicidal too. She’s been depressed ever since her dad died, but I didn’t know it was this bad.” The nice, large biker, Mike, held his glass and said. “Dude, I’m sorry. Do you want another beer? I couldn’t imagine how much you hurt.” After another round of beer and an hour later they became bored of pool and tried to play Packman. All four of them were too drunk to use the joystick. The small biker played Lady Gaga on the jukebox. They ended up sitting on the floor. The owner of the place wanted to kick them out but he realized they were like drunken group therapy. “You’re women, do you think she’s okay?” Steven started to wail like a child. “What if she killed her self because of me?” Mike placed his hand on Steven’s shoulder. With a slurred voice he said. “If she’s suicidal… then she is sick. There’s some …some chemical imbalance or something like that. Only a coward leaves his …wife when she’s sick.” “You’re’…you’re right… I need…to… go home.” Steven abruptly stood up, fell over and rolled around on the floor until the bartender picked him up. “Thanks man, buy you’re self something pretty.” Steven said placed $50 in the man’s front pocket. “No!” Mark jumped up too and only stumbled. “You’re way…way too drunk. Let me drive you. You can come home with me, sober up and call her tomorrow.” Though Mike himself was plastered he only almost had them killed twice on the ride home.
The next morning Steven woke up with Mike’s pit bull in his face. The dog’s breath smelled like Kibble and Bits. He picked up the dog and walked into the kitchen. He could only faintly remember what happened but Steven could clearly remember what Mike said. “How you feeling?” Mike was in the kitchen making waffles. “Like crap.” “Have some food and you can then call your women.” “I have only known you for a day but you have been better to me then most people. The only person who has treated me better is…Holly.” Mike handed him a plate. “Thanks, but no. All I need right now is a ride.”
Holly was sitting on the bench on the pier. She gazed out at the water sadly. Sitting beside her was a wicker basket full of white petals. Steven didn’t care where the petals came from all he cared about was that he remember her favorite hiding spot. He was mystified has she dipped her hand into the basket and life up her hand so that the petals would fly away. “Holly.” Steven said walking up from behind. She jumped and the petals in her hand fell “Are you here to have me sign the divorce papers?” Steven sat by Holly and leaned forward to pull a cigarette from his back pocket. As he lit it the gray smoke curled from the end. “I didn’t know you smoked.” “I started last night.” There was a long pause and it was Steven who broke the silence “When you told me, ya I wanted a divorce. I was raised in a conservative Irish home.” He closed his eyes and took another drag. “But you’re the best I have. No one else would deal with my silly drinking antics or my late nights. I’m glad I was shot, it lead me to meeting you.” Holly started tearing at the petals in her hand. Her voice sounded sad. “Back when I was a kid I would dream of my wedding day. Often my cousin and I would fill up basket with petals and pretend we were getting married. “And my husband would be a prince and the birds would sing as we said ‘I do’. But I guess we can’t be a cookie-cutter Disney couple. We can only be a normal couple.” Steven through the cigarette into the water and lied his head on her shoulder. “You smell like … beer and desperation.” She commented. Steven laughed and held her hand. “You’re the light of my world.” Holly started wiping heavily. “I just wish you knew. My mother was an evil person and everyday I look in the mirror I see her. I see her personality in me. She treated me and my family like trash and that all changed when I was born.” “I love you, and yes you made a mistake but please don’t kill yourself.” And they sat on the bench crying. When Holly stopped she began to nervously rub the petals until they lost their color, he smoked another two cigarettes. “Holly, how about we go home and make martinis, just like the good old days.” © 2012 CalypsoAuthor's Note
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CalypsoWVAboutI'm a full time college student, part time worker. I'm two years away from my bsw! In my free time I read, write and sim. Check out my tumblr blogs some time. http://emmy-1127.tumblr.com/ more..Writing
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