My life was a fucking comedy show called pathetic. How’d I gone from being CFO of one of the nation’s top architecture firms to being demoted to a data entry clerk because I was such a fuck up? There was a time when I went to work so pissy drunk that it took both Kameron and Kandon to carry me out. Sometimes I had drunk so much the night before and ended up on the firm’s doorsteps knocked out. Yeah, a lot of embarrassing moments but nothing hurt more than when I had been told I was the cause of a lot of the financial errors. Seeing my family's disappointment gutted me even more.
Before Heather died she was responsible for all the finances. How’d I go from loving one of the best mathematicians in the nation to marrying another accountant…ain’t that some shit. Anyway, after she died, I stepped in to do her role because I refused for anyone to try and take her place. I knew what I was doing because I knew numbers. Not only that but both women that I had the pleasure of loving were a lover of numbers and both taught me a lot, so I knew how to do the job but trying to do the job drunk with no care in the world if I fucked up a report or deposit…I messed up badly.
“There’s no rush, Paxton. No one is rushing you to try and move on, son.”
The snort and kiss of my teeth happened before I could catch it. “Yeah right. You and I know that’s a lie.”
Whether my parents wanted to acknowledge it or not, time was rushing me. Life was rushing me. I didn’t have a pot in my name to piss in. My self-pity hourglass had run out. This laziness to continue to wallow and sulk in my grief and shame had expired and life had to go on.
I had to move on.
I wanted to move on so damn bad but failed to know how to take that first step.
“I have to live what’s left of my life.” I wanted to call bullshit on my own damn self. Lord knows it was easier said than done but I had to change. My life needed to change.
Stretching out his legs and sighing, my dad nodded. “I agree but don’t force it, Pax.”
For a moment I thought about the dream, rather nightmare, I’ve been having for the last two months. A nightmare that consisted of me choking to death and the cause of asphyxiation was due to me allowing the pain of losing my wife to stop me from living. These dreams were vivid and felt real. The message behind them all felt real and in the last month, they changed a little. Still of me choking to death but before I died, I’d see myself waking up and choosing to allow my anger and sadness to win. Once I gave in to those feelings that’s when I choked to death.
By the time I finished my google searches to better understand my dreams, I realized what the dreams meant, and it scared the hell out of me. If I continued to allow my feelings to rule over me, and give in without a fight, then what is the point of God waking me up in the morning?
There wasn’t a point whatsoever since I’ve prayed for God to end my life and take me to Heather too. But now that I’m understanding these dreams, these messages, and the urge to live and fight. I wake up every day trying to do something different and show my gratitude for life. The first project was my mother’s garden.
“What else am I supposed to do? I have nothing. I lost all I had when…” I cleared away the emotions trying to darken my day.
Loud music caught our attention. Seeing the bright orange Mustang pull up to the curb of his driveway I hung my head snickering. I knew my dad was about to go off. He hated that my brother blasted his music so loud. These two going at it were the highlights of my day. Dad spoke his mind with no remorse and Kameron got on his nerves by being ignorant and aggravating.
Lowering his dark windows, the lyrics to Time Today by Moneybagg Yo blasted from his custom sound system. Kameron mouthed every word, and my dad was two seconds from reaching behind his back and taking out his pocketknife to flatten Kameron’s tires like he did last month when he came over to their house doing the same thing.
Moving before he gave the neighbors something else to talk about, I blocked my dad’s view and thanked him for the food. “Save your frustration for another day, old man.” I joked.
Grumbling under his breath he stood and looked around me with his eyes narrowed. “If I didn’t want to break your mother’s heart, you’d have one less brother and my blood pressure wouldn’t be so high. Get him out of here before I do. Damn slow child. I don’t know where I went wrong with that boy I really don’t.” He kept mumbling under his breath, shaking his head until he closed and locked the front door like it was his house.
“Why do you like pissing him off?” I got in Kameron’s car and turned down the music. “One of these days he’s going to beat your ass and I’m going to sit back and watch.
Smiling all wide and big, he shrugged speeding out of his subdivision. “Man, ain’t nobody scared of daddy.” He was lying his ass off and my face told him so. “Don’t give me that look, Pax. Aight, he is a little bit scary.”
This dude had to be higher than Cooter Brown.
Side eyeing the hell out of him, I asked, “A little bit scary, Kam? That’s it? Cause we all know you like to play your little games from a distance but never up close where he can touch you.”
One thing for sure and two things for certain, Kandon Ezekiel Senior wasn’t that dude you played games with. Growing up in the harsh streets of Liberty City, Miami, the only person who received any kind of gentleness was my mother.
He was far from a tyrant but he didn’t play the radio.
Waving me off, he jumped on the interstate and started to drive like he had some sense. “I’m just keeping dad on his toes. He’s getting old and I wanna make sure all those muscles aren’t just for show.” My poor brother was more book smart than common sense smart.
It took us about twenty-five minutes to get to my barber, BJ, from his house. Kameron singing off-key to his loud music was enough entertainment that I said nothing and enjoyed the ride. Like all Saturdays, the barbershop was packed but moving. The last time I cut my hair was three months ago, a week before the parole hearing, and it had been eight months before that since I last heard the buzz of clippers. My appearance was the last thing on my mind but since I decided to live again that included taking pride in the way I looked and presented myself.
Though my cut and beard service only took an hour, we ended up sitting and talking with the rest of the guys in the shop for two hours. It wasn’t often that I came out of the house or interacted with people. For the most part, I stayed sheltered because I hated people giving me pity looks and the other part came from guilt. Knowing that I lived and Heather didn’t.
“I’m proud of you, Pax.” Kameron turned down his music as we approached his street.
“What is there to be proud of?” I know I was around here looking like the lost caveman but damn. “I’m an ex-alcoholic. You’re my chauffeur. I’m living in your guest bedroom with no car and I’m a demoted data entry clerk. Must I go on?” My fist clenched on my lap and my jaw tightened.
I wasn’t mad at him. I was mad at myself for getting so worked up over a simple compliment. Everything I complained about was my fault. I lost my privilege of driving myself around because I kept driving while heavily intoxicated, hoping and wishing that my drunkenness would drive me into a grave next to my wife. I had no house because I became so succumbed to my woes that I forgot about my responsibilities.
I had no one to blame but myself.