Chapter 9

I stand in the rain.

Cleanse me.

Take away these layers of filth. Wash away this facade.

Take it all.

Everything.

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I walk past the phone booths and I see her crying. She is beautiful in her pain. She is a welcome distraction to all of my thoughts.

Dangerous.

I walk past and am greeted by John at the front desk.

How are you this wonderful evening?

It is impossible not to feel John's tremendous love of life and people. He is a goofy looking son of a bitch and at this moment he makes me smile from ear to ear.

I'm Ok. I am feeling better.

GREAT news!

I walk past him and I realize that he really means that. He means GREAT news that I am feeling better. What a trip.

There is a hallway to the left as you pass the front desk from the phones. This is a back way out of the building and also a place where we can get mail. I check and I actually have mail. It looks like my Uncle Laddy, my Mom's brother, has sent me a letter. I shove it in my pocket and go to dinner.

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Dinner is uneventful. No drama.

You really start to get to know people at meal time. Today I meet a new guy named Fred. He is a very talkative Jewish man from Portland. When I say talkative I mean that he just can't or won't shut up. He is a lawyer. A Jewish Lawyer who can't shut up. Imagine that. I love him instantly.

People always want to know what your drug of choice is or why you are here. People want comparisons. They want to see where they match up with you or where you don't. It is weird as hell but you get really use to it.

Bryce and I sit and talk like we always do.

He is an athlete. A damn good athlete. He tells me all about his history and we laugh at how messed up we are. We compare DUI stories and jail stories. The funny thing about addiction is that a whole lot of it is fun as hell. Some stupid shit happens to you when you are wasted.

I tell him all about "Naked Beer Guy" and we laugh our asses off.

I was 21 years old and in my last year at a private Christian college. It was the first weekend of school starting and historically a great party weekend. A buddy of mine was having a party at his parents home on a lake.

The great part about the first weekend parties is all the new freshman that show up. They are a fun bunch to watch try and fit in.

I get hammered.

I decide that swimming in the lake is a great idea.

Off go the clothes.

I decide that clothing isn't going to be necessary for the remainder of the evening. I don't remember a whole lot of it but the stories sure went around.

Hey aren't you the naked beer guy?

Yep. I just walked around a party full of new Christian College freshman naked.

All night.

I can only imagine the phone calls home the next day.

Bryce and I just laugh at how stupid we are.

Funny.

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I decide against watching a movie.

I just want to be alone and think about the week.

This has been one big emotional roller coaster of a ride so far. I am finally off of the damn librium and I am starting to feel like a whole person. It still is so hard not to want a drink. So damn hard. So I smoke. I smoke cigarettes like they are going out of style.

I head back to my room. I am really feeling like I need some time to start reading more of the Big Book. I am really feeling like this guy Bill W. who wrote the thing is a pretty good dude.

Eric isn't in the room when I get there.

I remember the letter.

I open the envelope and let the fact that it is addressed in care of a treatment center sink in.

It is a single piece of paper from a small notepad.

"FROM THE DESK OF NEIL MORFITT" it reads across the top.

My Grandfather. My dead Grandfather.

Steve, this is from one of my Dad's note pads from his desk. I know that he is pulling for you right now as much as I am. Love Laddy

It is too much for me and I break. I break in a way I have never broken before. Every ounce of my body cries out. Every part of me hurts in a way I have never felt and never want to feel again.

I broke.

He was the only real Grandpa I knew. He was everything to me as a child.

My sweet Grandpa.

Every visit would be the same. I would say my hello and go straight to his bedroom. He would spread change all over his floor and say that he might have dropped it and was too old to pick it up. Anything I found was mine.

I loved this game... I love the memory now of his smile at watching his grandson come out of his room with pockets filled with change. I understand that smile now. As a child its just a smile. A smile from your Gramps. Now it is a novel. A lifetime of memories that explode in one single perfect moment.

I feel that same smile right now.

I feel my Grandpa's touch.

I break.

I hit the floor face down and for the next hour and a half repeat the same words over and over and over...

Jesus please...