***
Two hours, six shots, and two beers later, Simon was feeling excellent. The feeling wasn't quite perfect, but it was a definite improvement over the rest of the day.
Jack had been teaching Simon how to feel the exact moment when he was ready for the next shot. "Wait for the nausea to go away completely. Take a sip of water and see how it makes your stomach feel. If your stomach doesn't churn, go ahead.
"If it's a whiskey shot, chase it with domestic brew. If it's tequila, chase it with Corona." Simon could tell Jack was a pro. He hoped that someday he could see Jack in action, and maybe learn a few more pointers.
***
"Well, kid, I think you're good and toasted now. It's probably time for you to get out of here."
"OkayIllgetouttaherenow. ForeIgowheresthebathroom?"
"It's in back, on the left."
"ThanksJackyourethegreatest."
As Simon stood up from the barstool, he could barely walk straight. He staggered through the crowd, fortunate not to crash into anyone, and made his way to the men's room.
-Oh God. Why is the room spinning again? This isn't supposed to happen. Jack taught me how not to make this happen. Oh no. Here comes the vomit…-
***
Simon was too embarrassed to admit to Jack that he had just lost his precious alcohol down the pipes. So after washing his face and popping a breath mint in his mouth, he put on a phony grin and waved goodbye to Jack as he left the bar.
His head swam. Where should he go now? He didn't really want to go home, especially as drunk as he was.
Maybe it was time to give Morris another try.
Simon found a campus pay phone and dropped the requisite coins into the slot with considerable difficulty. Realizing what a drunkenly complicated time he had had with the simple task of inserting the coins, he made sure to slowly and carefully dial Morris's cell phone number, which he had memorized over the weekend.
"Hello?"
"HelloMorris."
"Simon?"
"Yeahitsme."
"Why are you calling me? I thought I made it clear that I don't want to have anything to do with you."
"ListenIknowyoudidntwannatalkearlierbutwegottatalkmanwejustgotta."
"Whoa, Simon, slow down. I can hardly understand you. Are you okay?"
"Imjustgreatbutwegottatalk."
Morris, suspicious that Simon had gone and gotten himself drunk again – on a Monday, no less – sighed and softened a bit. "Well, okay, I guess we can talk."
"NotnowImeanwegottatalkfacetofacejustyouandmeMorris."
"Um, wow. Geez, I don't know, Simon." Morris was skeptical. After what Simon had called him Friday, did he really want to hear anything else drunk Simon had to say?
"It'sreallyreallyreallyimportant."
Morris sighed again and said, "I'm not sure why I'm saying this, but okay. We can talk face to face. Where and when do you want to meet?"
"Iwannameetyounow, andIwannameetatyourhouse."
"My house? Really? Um, OK, I guess. Do you even know where I live?"
"Noclue."
"I live at 741 Evergreen Lane. It's just off Broad Street, near the Central Glenoak Shopping Plaza."
"Okeydokeybetheresoon."
After hanging up, Simon looked at the route map he had pocketed from the first bus. He tried to find Broad Street, but all the streets and names and routes seemed to be blurring together. Simon realized that a bus was pulling up to the Crawford stop right now. He dashed drunkenly toward it and boarded, hoping that it was the right one.
***
Somewhere along the way he must have fallen asleep. He woke up when he felt the plopping of a butt into the seat next to his. The man who had just sat down smiled at him as he opened his eyes.
Simon smiled back, and then he instinctively checked to make sure his wallet was still in his pocket. Whew! It was still there.
As he looked around the bus, Simon felt an awkward sensation. It wasn't really fear, more like…shock. He felt shock as he realized he was the only white person on the bus.
The sensation passed quickly though, as Simon was definitely not a racist. When he was younger he had been best friends with an African-American boy, until the boy had moved across town. Now Simon didn't hear from him much anymore.
-Typical. Give a person a chance to get away from me and he's all over it. That's why I can't let Morris get away from me this time.-
Morris! Simon recalled that visiting him had been his initial reason for boarding the bus. Where had Morris told him to go? Broad Street? Where the hell was that? Simon didn't even know where he was now, let alone how to get to Broad Street.
The man next to him had seemed friendly, so Simon asked him, "Excuse me, sir. Does this bus go to Broad Street?"
"Broad Street?" the man chuckled. "Son, you're on the wrong side of town if you're looking for Broad Street."
"Where am I?"
"You're in East Glenoak."
East Glenoak. Simon tried not to cringe at those words. Around Glenoak High School they were synonymous with "ghetto".
"Well, do you know how I can get to Broad Street from here?"
The man thought for a minute and said, "Well, let me think about that for a
minute, hmm. Oh, yes. Okay, you can get off at the next stop,
which is 4th Street, and wait for the 33 bus. That goes back toward Central Glenoak where
you're looking to go."
"Thanks a lot, sir." Simon pressed the button to notify the bus driver to stop.
"There's only one thing, son," the man said. "I don't know if you really want to get out at this stop. It's a pretty tough neighborhood."
"Don't worry," said Simon as he passed the man on his way to the door. "I can take care of myself."
***
Simon waited nervously for the 33 to arrive at the stop. He hadn't worn a watch so he had no idea what time it was. All he knew was that when he had boarded the first bus it had been approaching dusk, but now it had become completely dark.
He tried to sit down on the bench to wait, but the area smelled too strongly of urine to stay there for long. Instead he stood up and paced around the area. He tried not to imagine that he saw something moving toward him in the shadows of the graffiti-covered abandoned buildings. Then he realized he wasn't imagining it. A man dressed in ragged, dirty clothing and pushing a shopping cart with a full plastic bag and lots of wadded up newspaper in it was approaching him.
-Oh no. What should I do? Be cool, Simon.-
Simon decided to cross the street to avoid the stranger, when the man shouted, "Hey!"
Simon tried hard not to look back, but the man's cry startled him so much that he stopped walking and turned his head around.
"Do you have any spare change?" the man hollered.
Simon knew the honest answer to that. "Sorry, I spent it all on booze."
The man looked angry. "Are you making fun of me?"
"What? No."
The man started to wander away from his cart toward Simon.
-Oh God. I have to get out of here.-
Panicking, Simon ran away from the man. In the distance, Simon could hear him screaming, "Come back here! Where do you think you're going?"
***
Simon had no idea where he was going anymore. All he knew was that he was completely lost in East Glenoak.
He could remember all the stupid, cruel jokes his insensitive classmates had made about East Glenoak. Anytime a student's parent had lost a job, the joke was, "They can't even afford a house in East Glenoak now." Or there was always the popular, "Your mama's an East Glenoak crack whore."
But thinking about it now, Simon realized that in his nearly sixteen years living in Glenoak, he had never been to this side of town. Not even once. Simon found it a bit strange that as a Christian, he was supposed to do as many charitable things as possible to help those less fortunate than him – his father was constantly preaching that – yet his father had never once brought the family to this side of town to do any of that charitable work. Everything they had ever done had been for their cozy little suburban parish, nestled between middle-class Central Glenoak and well-to-do West Glenoak.
Of course, they had sent money to starving families in Third World countries and so forth, but that was easy. No actual physical involvement was required to do that. Why had he never even seen this part of town? Was his father just too afraid to bring his family here? Did his mother forbid the Reverend to bring the family here?
Maybe so. It was pretty frightening walking through the shadows on the poorly lit and dirty streets, wondering if anyone was standing in alleyways or behind buildings waiting to jump out at him.
Simon remembered some of the things he had told himself earlier in the day, during those intensely dark, numb moments in his room. Would he really rather be homeless and starving here in East Glenoak, constantly wandering around worrying about his personal safety, trying not to go insane for lack of food in his stomach, than to live at home? Would he rather be here fending for himself without help from his parents and siblings, however questionable he might find that help?
No. This was scary. As painful as his heart had felt earlier, he knew that his feelings could not match those of someone parentless, friendless, without food, shelter, money, new clothing, or a place to wash, out on these streets.
Simon turned around and tried to retrace his steps to the bus stop. As he walked, he did something he had not done in a long time. He thanked God for all his blessings.
***
When Simon reached the bus stop again, the homeless man was nowhere to be found and the 33 bus was just pulling up. Perfect timing!
Simon found a seat and looked at his route map again. If he was at 4th Street now, he had a ways to go until Broad Street. However, the nice man on the other bus had been correct. The 33 route would take him directly there.
As he sat, he thought about all that had transpired during this wild day. He thought about his experience at the bar. Oddly, it felt like it had happened yesterday. And all those awful things that had happened at school and at home felt like they had happened last week.
He thought about how, apart from throwing up at the bar, Jack had been right about everything. He felt no headache or nausea now, just a very pleasant buzz. Simon wished he could find a way to capture this buzz and live with it the rest of his life. He had no idea how or why it made him feel so good, why it suppressed all those other horrible feelings. But it did.
And of course, he thought about what he would say to Morris when he ultimately arrived at his house.
-What to say, what to say, and how to say it…-
***
Simon finally arrived at the Broad Street/Central Glenoak Shopping Plaza stop. He stepped off the bus and recalled that he was supposed to find Evergreen Lane. Crap. What the hell was Morris's street address again? He should have written it down.
No problem, though. There was a pay phone at the shopping plaza with a phone book attached beneath it. Simon looked up Morris's family name and found the only ones with that name who lived on Evergreen Lane. Aha! 741.
As an elderly couple came out of a nearby drugstore, Simon asked them, "Excuse me, sir, ma'am, do you know which way is Evergreen Lane?"
"It's a block up the road that way," the man pointed in the right direction.
"Thank you, sir!"
Simon ran the whole way. He was excited. For some reason, he thought this meeting with Morris would be special, like the clouds were finally about to lift from his life.
As his heart pounded and his adrenaline rushed Simon realized that the alcohol buzz was definitely wearing off, yet he wasn't feeling numb anymore. He was actually feeling pretty good, despite a little bit of anxiety.
-741. There it is, Morris's house. Nice house. There's his jeep in the driveway. Oh boy. I'm walking up Morris's front steps, hee! I'm ringing the doorbell. Here goes nothing…-