Second Wind

Digital Journal entry 21:

About 3 weeks ago my divorce was final. Like anyone going through tremendous heartache, it has been a trying time. My good friend George, who also went through divorce himself a couple years ago, said that I needed to do something that would change my life before it becomes worse. The way he said it stuck with me like old gum underneath a park bench. His exact words were: “Man you gotta get your shit together before your best friends become Jack Daniels and Jim Beam. When I took that sailboat across the pacific ocean...changed everything.”

I was convinced he was right. As right as when hot water hits my skin in the shower. I jump. Unfortunately the end of this story doesn’t crap sunshine and rainbows. To be honest I don’t even know what I got out of this wind storm. 3 weeks ago It’s 4am on a Tuesday night, up all night in agony of the obligation to sign divorce papers. I know it had to happen but can’t help but feel there was a way around this. I loved her so much.

Why did I cheat? Why did she cheat? What were we doing as a couple that brought us here? Here! No longer together, broke each other’s trust and made each other angrier than a disappointed father. And for what? Because we were afraid to be honest and real with each other? Did we not talk enough? What the fuck have we been doing this whole time?

Ugh, my head spins without rest. My blood boils incessantly as I stared blankly at the TV. It wasn’t even on. My mind was encapsulated by silence. My phone buzzes like the pulse of the vibrations in my head. Lazily I look down at it like a tired sloth that has settled comfortably onto his favorite branch.

Hunny Bunny with two broken hearts flashes on the screen of my phone as that green bar glares at me. It hopes I’d swipe it to answer her. What the hell does she want? I had been up for so long that my delirium caused me to subconsciously grab the phone and swipe it as I pressed speaker. No words came to mind while the seconds counted on the upper part of the screen.

“So?” she asked impatiently. “Good morning to you too. What do you want? I mean for God’s sake Hanna, you already have my balls and dignity. What else could I have that you need at this unholy hour?” I couldn’t help but be sarcastic. “You know damn well what I’m talking about, sign the damn thing and lets end this fucking nightmare!” “Oh please, you wanted this to happen. This is no nightmare for you. It’s your fucking fairy tale come true. You fucking cunt!” “Are you drunk or something? We talked about this for months! We both saw this coming. Please sign them, I don’t wanna keep having this conversation.”

I was too distraught and sleep deprived to answer so I just hung up and tossed the phone next to me. I got up with a grunt and a soft whimper. I went out to the back porch and stared out into the darkness. Lightning struck and flashed light on the grass. During that flash, I swore I saw an older version of myself sprawled out on the grass on my stomach. I rubbed my eyes and slapped my face in the hopes that what I saw was just an illusion.

It was but I didn’t know that at the time.

The body began to fidget and grown like a drunken cranky old man. “She’s not worth the headache you grouchy Neanderthal.” He said with a scratchy and groggy voice.

Stupefied yet intrigued by what I saw, I walked slowly down the porch. I could feel the cold wet wood melt against the soles of my feet. The rain poured down on me like a cold shower in an elongated power outage. The soft and water swollen grass swallowed my toes and heels.

I was about four feet from the body, in which I could’ve sworn was me but at least 20 years older and scrawnier. Before I could take another step, he gets up on all fours as he makes awful the likes of a beaten up boxer that caught a second wind for one last fight. He stands with his back to me, shakes himself as he dry heaves and slowly regains his composure. Hands hung by his sides like two dead fish. I got a glimpse of myself when he tilted his head down to his left shoulder. He turned around to me and I saw it. I saw what could become of me if my take one too many wrong turns. My instinct to spiral and overthink kicked in. I stared at him in the hope that he says something before I drive any closer into complete insanity.

“Joe listen to me, you have to let her go. If you hold on to this grudge you will end up like me. Too much time will be wasted on anger” “Fuck you old man, if I sign those papers she wins.” “Win what?” “I don’t know! She just does! Ugh, this is so typical of her. She always gets her wait. Fucking bitch.”

Baffled by my stubbornness he gives me a “really?” look and then sighs. “This isn’t a game where there is a winner and a loser. This is a sign. A sign that you are not right for each other. You need to move on and accept what she doesn’t want. Which unfortunately is you.”

I stood there silently. Maybe he was right, maybe I don’t need her. I turn around and began to pace back and forth as I looked out into the dark forest. A stillness emerged as the rain came to a slow halt.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t need her. Right?”

I turned around to be met by nothing but grass and a dull light from the porch light. I walked over to the lazy boy which had an old nightstand I brought outside when I’d sneak a drink from Hanna. That name shall haunt me for the rest of my life.

Now out of the rain and damp grass, I plop my drenched body into the lazy boy. I pull open the first drawer because I remembered that I had put a bottle of Jack Daniels in there a couple years ago. Rather than a familiar square bottle, a smooth paper like material rubbed itself along my fingers. Despite it’s texture, I could feel a heavier weight hold it in place. I pull it out three quarters of the way and a bottle of JD made its presence. I took what turned out to be a divorce document and stared at it as I cracked open the bottle and guzzled a bit of it.

I sighed in exhaustion and said: “Alright bitch, you win.” I took another big swig of JD then grabbed a dusty old pen from the bottom drawer. I could feel my chest burn from the JD. I grit my teeth and drank while I signed the entire damn thing. Now, half-drunk, I grabbed my phone and snapped a pic of the last signature then sent it to Hanna. Not only did I send a pic, but I also texted her: “There, you win. I’ll leave it on the front porch to pick up tomorrow or whenever the hell you want.”

The phone slips out of my hand and into cushion. I stared at the bottle and said: “You are my best friend Jack. In fact, I love you so much I’m gonna drink the rest of you in one shot. One, two, three!” I downed the rest of the bottle like a thirsty camel. I passed out with the rim of the bottle hanging from the meat of my thumb and index finger.

Stage 2: Anger

Around noon, George called me from the alley way. Obviously I heard him but was too hungover to react. “Joe! Where the fuck are you? You better not have passed out again on the porch.” I groaned and moaned as I tried to sit up .I keeled over like a puppet cut off from the strings his puppeteer used to hold him up. Before I could even look where the hell I was, I bashed my knee against my bottle of booze. Blood gushed all over my leg. “AAAAAAAHHHH FUCK ME!” I shouted as a huge shard of glass digs in to my knee. “Joe! Are you ok?” “I’m fine, nothing like a fucking piece of glass in your fucking knee to start your day. God damn this hurts.”

I could hear everything. His struggle to open the first door, which to be fair was never easy since most of that door was chewed by my neighbor’s crazy dog. For some reason that dumb dog hopped the fence, franticly ran in the yard and went mad in attempt to get out. So what does this he do to get out? He claws and choose the shit out of my alley door. He messed up so bad you have to yank it harder than a monkey in a banana tree scouting the talent down below.

“OW!” Said George. He most likely tripped over junk that I never got rid of.

“You’ve gotta get rid of this shit man.” The rain continued to come down pretty hard, I could hear the splish splash in each step he took. Some were louder than others. “Would you hurry up?” Just as I said that, here comes Frank trudging along with a big black umbrella. Thunder strikes three times, each one louder than the other. I knew it was three times because each made my head pulse like a heavy weight boxer.

Finally, that tortoise of a man came up to me in a panic and said: “Jesus fucking Christ man! We need to get you to a hospital now!” “What for? Aren’t you a doctor or something?” I don’t know why but I didn’t want to go to a hospital. I guess I was still messed up from the divorce and didn’t want to face people. “I’m a cosmetic surgeon, so unless you want a fake tit on your knee I can’t do anything for you.” “I don’t need a hospital, I have a gigantic first aid kit in the house.” “First Aid kit? Really Joe? You think a....what the hell are you doing??!!”

I was in so much pain and to angry to get up and follow his command that I yanked out the piece of glass. “Are you out of your fucking mind? You’re gonna bleed to death!”

He was not wrong but my numb and hungover brain didn’t care. Blood leaked out of my knee and all over my deck like a sea of dark cherry red Kool-aid. Under my breath I whispered: “It’s starting to look like the shining out here.”

Things began to shift like an earthquake as my body was dragged inside by George who through his umbrella at my chair. While we passed it I saw the corner of the divorce papers just sitting on the chair while water dripped from the umbrella all over it. A small smile came over me like the devil in me was happy something bad was going to happen. It’s as if I wanted to feel danger and get into yet another yelling match with Hanna.

George dragged me on to the couch and said: “Where’s your first aid kit?” “In the washroom. First door on your left.” I said with my finger pointed to the hallway.

That’s the last thing I remember before I passed out as the room spun faster than a washing machine. You’d think with all this going on I’d have the most thrill filled nightmare in my knocked out state but no. I mean I did have moments where I’d be conscious for a second but I saw nothing. Nothing but a pitch black room draped over me like a thick kitchen table cloth. Sure there were flashes of Hanna but those just made me angry. Each time the image of her came into my head I got angrier and angrier.

I woke up to the sensation of a dressing being wrapped around my knee and three voices. I recognized two of them but couldn’t quite make out the third because he or she sound much farther away. It definitely had a more feminine tone.

My vision was still quite blurry, so much so that it was like I was looking through a glass coke bottle with a bit of mold at the bottom. I blinked my eyes rapidly to see who was standing in front of me. I squeezed what felt like a leathery cushion. It seems that I had been put on the couch with my foot propped up on the coffee table with pillows.

Finally my vision came back. Standing in front of me with the divorce papers I signed was Hanna. You’d think romantic and loving feelings would swim all over me but no. I was livid.

“Get out.” I said, trying not lose it as my forehead furrowed. I bit down on the tip of my tongue to focus my anger on physical pain. My eyes shook like a child who just got into trouble and was afraid of what punishment he will receive. My hands gripped the sofa cushions tighter than a construction worker’s hands on a jackhammer.

She didn’t move, I could tell she wanted me to be at peace with this decision she felt was right. That I should be aware and grown up enough to swallow my pride and accept what is happening. I was too upset and in an aggravated state. I knew she wanted to say something along the lines of “Thank you for signing the divorce papers.” Right when she opened her mouth, an explosive emotion erupted a horrific scream out of me:

“GET THE FUCK OUT YOU FUCKING WHORE!”

When we were together, it was no trouble for us to go at it like two bitter Germans. Yes I know that’s racist but I’m a white bread American that has never met or heard a German, other than what I’ve seen in movies. Anyway, I expected a reaction from her so I stayed in character I had to yell for however long it took to get her out of the house.

Hanna stood silently with nothing to say. Nothing. Just stared at me with teary eyes and the folder of divorce papers pressed tightly against her pelvis. She pivoted slowly and walked out of the room. The door shut softly with the last clickedy clack of her high heels. The house was quiet again. A paella of questions cooked inside me. Why is this happening? What will become of me in the future? Will I end up like the 20 year older version of me I saw in my backyard? Why did everyone leave without saying anything?

I must’ve spent hours being inquisitive. I don’t even remember what day of the week it was.

Numb

3 weeks later

Remember how I said that George told me I should do something like take a sailboat across the sea or climb a mountain to “get my shit together?” Ya well I that is never going to happen.

Ok, so why did I not listen to George? Because divorce sucks. It’s that simple. It just sucks. No damn mountain or sea will change that. I’ll be temporarily liberated but it doesn’t change the fact that grieving takes time.

I sit here on my back porch as I gaze out into my yard in remembrance of the night I saw my future self. Only thing that has changed since then is that I realized I have to let go and accept the fact that I have to go through the pain. Be brave and smart enough to know I will go through a lot for a while and hopefully someday the numbing pain will go away.

What I do hope doesn’t change is my home. It may be small but it’s far away from the city and I have a great view of open space. No city noise or trains. Just a calm little rural neighborhood that sits not too far from a forest. It’s crisp clean air that smells like pine, cedar and other natural scents. Everyone I’m surrounded by keeps to themselves and only come out when the sun shines. Which is a rare occurrence.

Nevertheless, there are a few things to note. First off, this is not some story about how I had some epiphany or profound realisation. If that were the case then I would’ve talked about the five stages of grief. I’d also have listened to George and done what he said. On top of all that I also would’ve ended this...what would you call it? A journal entry? Ya lets go with that.

This is simply my admission to the fact that I can’t keep the one I love. I may not accept it now or ever. I may even die a lonely old man. For now I’m going through a state of pure anger.

What will become of me I’ll never know. I’ll never know if I’ll be ok. That I guess is sort of an epiphany. That I realised no matter what I do, I will feel pain. I could travel for a year or just keep busy so it doesn’t hurt as much. The reality is that it never goes away until you’ve either met the one you know you are meant to be with; however, the pain will subside with time. How much time? I have no clue. Not one.

So is there anything else left to say right now?

No.

Nothing.