by L. Johnson

It’s a horrible feeling to wake up not knowing where you are, or how you got there. I know-it happened to me. I didn’t know where I was, or how long I’d been there. I knew I’d been asleep, but for how long, I didn’t know. I was sweating profusely, my sense of space and time completely gone. ‘What the hell’s going on here,’ I thought. To my left, there were banks of machines, their small black screens filled with jagged green lines. To my right, there were more machines with blinking, black screens. The rancid taste in my mouth made me want to puke, but with the tube they had shoved down my throat, getting rid of it was going to be impossible. ‘I gotta get outta here,’ I thought. That’s when I realized that my hands were tied to the bed. I panicked. I had to find out where I was and how I got there. And I had to find out, immediately. 

The day that I was befallen had started out like any other. I got up, got ready for work, kissed Elaine goodbye, and left; it was Friday and all I wanted to do was get to work, get off, and get my weekend started. Elaine had decided to take a break from her graduate studies, and now that she had some free time, we were going to take a trip up to Sugarloaf and to try and get some skiing in before the spring thaw arrived. I was really looking forward to it; I hadn’t been skiing in ages. Money had been awful tight since Elaine quit her job to pursue her masters which meant that every penny we had had to be accounted for. But this weekend was going to be different. I had squirreled away some cash over the previous three paychecks and I was determined to spend it on something other than the light bill, or rent. We’d been under a great deal of stress the last few months and a trip to the mountains would do us both a world of good. So off to the mountains we’d go. 

When I got to work that morning there was no one to be found. ‘Where is everybody?’ I thought. I was on my way to the break room when I heard the commotion; it took me a minute to figure out where it was coming from. It was coming from inside the break room. I went in to what all the hoopla was. I was halfway to the coffee machine when my supervisor ran up to me. “Bill, we won,” he said. I looked at him as if he had two-heads. ‘Won? Won what?’ I thought. It took me a minute, or two, to figure out what he was talking about, but when I did, I nearly fell on my face. Every month the corporate office awarded the store with the biggest sales volume a five thousand dollar cash prize to be split evenly among the winning store’s employees. This month was our turn. This couldn’t’ve happened at a better time. Elaine was really worried that we weren’t going to be able to meet our monthly obligations if we took the trip to the ski resort; this bit of good news would, definitely, relieve some of the pressure. I started to wait and tell her when I got home, but I couldn’t. I had to tell her, now. I was on my way to my office to make the call when my boss stopped me. “We’re going to Exeter’s after to work to celebrate. You will be there won’t you, Bill?” my manger, Wayne Walker, asked. “Sure,” I replied. I had no choice. When Wayne asked you something, it wasn’t a question, it was an order.  

At one time, I enjoyed going to Exeter’s. That was before I stopped drinking. Now, that I’d stopped, I avoided going to places where liquor was served. This time was different, though. My boss had demanded that I be there, and I didn’t have to spend any money. Those were two of best reasons I could think of to go. It had been three months since my last drink; the craving was now a figment of my imagination. How easy it was going to be to stay sober when everyone else was getting sloshed was a mystery to me, but I was determined to give it everything I had. There was too much to lose if I fell off the wagon this time. Most of all Elaine. I had promised her after my last bout that I would never touch it, again. And I meant that. I had never in the sixteen years that we’d been together gone against my word. Now wasn’t the time to start. 

When I got the Exeter’s the place was rocking! ‘God, look at all the people,’ I thought. I’d been out of the bar scene for so long that I’d forgotten what it was like. It didn’t take long for me to get back in the groove. “Hey Bill, over here” one of my co-workers yelled as I waded through the crowd. My co-harts had reserved a table at the back of the room and were about to order drinks when I got there. “What can I get you, Bill?” Wayne Walker bellowed. “I’ll take a Diet Coke,” I answered. Wayne looked at me, crazily, but he didn’t say anything; he knew that I was on the wagon, and he respected that. Within seconds, the waitress was back with the drinks. I took my Coke, chugged it down, and went to Wayne for my share of the prize money. Before I could ask him for it, he shoved the cash stuffed envelope in my hand. I shoved it in my pocket and prepared to say my “goodbyes”. 

I had congratulated everybody and was on my way out the door when I was ambushed. “Hey Bill, you driving,” the assistant office manager, Sharon Pruitt asked. I shook my head. “No, Elaine’s picking me up,” I answered. Sharon and I had worked together for almost ten years, and in that time, we’d become the best of friends. If she needed a ride I was more than happy to ask Elaine to drop her off. “Is she on her way?” Sharon asked. “No, I was just getting ready to call her. Why, you need a ride?” I asked. “No. James does. He’s had a bit too much Schnapps, so I took his keys. I was wondering if you’d drive him home. I’ll follow you and take you home after we drop him off,” replied Sharon. I agreed. I didn’t care for James Reed-he was a loud-mouth, two-faced bastard-but I do anything for Sharon. So I grabbed James’ drunken ass and shoved him out the door. Sharon was waiting for us in the parking lot. “I’ll be right behind you,” she yelled as I backed James’ Mustang out of its parking spot. We were on our way when less than a mile from James’ house, the pick-up truck shot out in front of us. 

I tried to stop the car, but it was too late; the truck was too close and we were moving too fast. At least, that’s what Sharon told me when I came out of my coma. She said I hit the brakes, and the car skidded, but it wouldn’t stop; it just kept going. Her car was less than ten feet away from the Mustang when it hit the telephone pole. She said she tried to avoid running over me, but the impact threw me right into her path; there was no way that she could avoid hitting me. The doctors told Elaine when she got to the hospital that the wheels of Sharon’s Volkswagen Beetle had severed the nerves at the base of my spine and that they’d attempted to surgically re-attach them, but the damage was too extensive. Upon hearing this, Elaine broke down and had to be sedated. James, who had been thrown from the car also, suffered a few cuts and bruises, but, otherwise, he was fine. Needless to say, I will never walk, again. Or drive. Or ski. Or make love to my wife. James will go back to work on Monday as if nothing ever happened. And me, I’d be better off dead.