My Friend Leonard by James Frey Read Free Book Online

out and I grab a bag. I don’t look at the flavor because the flavor doesn’t matter. All I’m going to taste is the rose. I arrive at the counter and I set my wares down in front of the man and as he rings them up, I take the four dollars out of my back pocket. I set the money in front of him and he takes it and puts it in his register and he hands me a dime. I have ten cents to my name. Ten cents and a bottle of wine and a bag of chips and half a pack of cigarettes and a beat-up truck. The chips and the wine will be gone in twenty minutes. The cigarettes will be gone tomorrow. I’m starting to think I will follow them.
    I walk out of the store. It’s cold, the wind, the motherfucking wind. I walk to my truck, I open it, I get inside. It is still warm. I climb into the passenger’s seat. I know that if I get caught drinking in the driver’s seat I can be charged with Driving Under the Influence. It doesn’t matter if the car is moving or not, I can still be charged under the laws of every state in America. In the passenger’s seat they can charge me with open container in a motor vehicle, the equivalent of a parking ticket.
    I settle into the seat. I light a cigarette. I open the chips put a few in my mouth chew. I set the bottle in my lap. I take it out of the brown paper bag that is holding it. I stare at it. My hands start shaking and my heart starts beating faster. Like Pavlov’s dog I react when alcohol is in front of me. I smoke with one hand, hold the bottle with the other. I have a decision to make. Yes or no. The Fury is screaming drink, motherfucker, drink drink drink. The grief I feel says I will leave you if you feed me. My heart and my hands are shaking like dogs they want the taste. I know if I open the cap and put the bottle to my lips, pour and swallow, I will be taking a road from which there is no return. I know that once I have it in me again I will use it until I die from it. I was almost dead six months ago. Dead from the damage that hardcore drug and alcohol abuse cause to the body, dead because I didn’t want to live anymore. I chose life because of Lilly and Leonard and because once I tasted life again it tasted good, good enough to try to live it. Lilly is dead now. Dead by her own hand. The how and why don’t matter. All that matters is the end result. Death. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe I’m in this position. What the fuck am I going to do.
    I stare.
    I have no money.
    I stare at the bottle.
    I have no job, I have nowhere to live.
    I stare at the bottle.
    I am an alcoholic and a drug addict. I have been incarcerated for the last six months of my life in a treatment center and in a jail.
    The bottle.
    I am shaking. The Fury is screaming. The grief is overwhelming me please please please. I can make it all go away. I can kill it. Killing it will be the first step toward killing myself. Everything I have dreamed about andhoped for and wanted and expected is gone. It’s dead and it’s not coming back. There is no nightmare to wake from, this is my fucking life.
    What am I going to do.
    The bottle.
    I start to cry.
    What.
    Cry.

 
    T here is sun streaming through the front window of my truck. It is bright, but it is not warm.
    It is early morning and I am waiting. The bottle of rose is sitting on the seat next to me. It is still full.
    I spent the night crying, staring at the bottle, smoking, cursing. I cursed God that motherfucker. I cursed myself I should have gotten here earlier. I cursed everyone I saw, I screamed at them and I cursed them. I cursed my truck it didn’t do anything I cursed it anyway. I cursed the ground the sky the night. I cursed the bottle in my hand I cursed the parts of me that wanted it. I cursed them and I defied them and they cursed me and they tried to defy me. I cursed my shaking hand and my beating heart, I cursed myself, I should have known, I should have stopped her. I cursed