Chapter 11
People always think they're better than others. I ain't ever been like that, ya know? We're all the same. Even if I haven't done much with my life, I shouldn't be judged by some kid who doesn't know me. People like to feel better, and they put others down so they can feel good. It sucks, and what sucks even more is when I'm dumb enough, drunk enough to get drawn into that bull like I did that night. Even though people say alcohol brings out the worst in people, doesn't it bring out the truth in people too? I think so. I don't like the truth that came out of me. I bet few people ever did, and that's why they said “worst” rather than “truth.”
Nowadays, there ain’t much room for lies or distorting the truth. You can’t do that stuff when your life depends on it. But this was before that. This was when people all had that “I’m better than you” attitude against others for no real, good reason. Sometimes people suck!
I can't say that much now, but I'm just glad to have my life to live. Life is too short to waste on things like that. I know that now. I didn't then, but I would, soon enough. If there’s anything good about the world now, it’s that the lies, the superiority, the petty things, are long gone. It sucks it took such a crazy extreme to get there, that we couldn’t get there before that.
Like that night at the bar…
Friday, April 13, 2012
12:00 a.m.
Nick walked into the bar that night with a mission. After the ordeal he’d been forced into, as a result of his homecoming, all he wanted was to forget. Forget how unwelcome he was, even at his father’s and stepmother’s home, how unwelcome he was to the rest of his family. Forget how his father and stepmother had gone on and had a baby two years before, while he had been in California, without even bothering to tell him about his new baby brother, Kamden. He had to forget it. All of it. Forget that his life was going nowhere. Forget that he had no true goals anymore, that his dreams had been lost. And really, what was life with absolutely nothing to aim for, to reach for?
Frustrating. Incredibly frustrating.
So since he had nothing better to do after a long day of job hunting in a failing economy (back in 2009, the country had dove into the largest depression since the 1930s, and now Nick was amongst the ever-rising ranks of the unemployed), he wanted to end the day on a more relaxed note. But he didn’t want to think of the reasons he wanted that. That was the entire point.
He had been barhopping for about the last two hours that Thursday night. Now he was hitting the bar close to home, since it was nearing midnight, and he still had to job hunt on Friday. He needed money, and fast. An apartment would be salvation, for he couldn’t live at home much longer. He didn’t want reminders of failure, nor of his family’s blatant dismissal of him.
He knew he had a slight alcoholic buzz going. But he wasn’t drunk yet. That was what he wanted. Nick wanted to be blissfully drunk, to truly let go. He never really got hangovers anyway, so it wasn’t like it would affect him much tomorrow.
He walked through the doors of the small tavern. It was very obviously a college bar. Nick himself lived close to the university, so it made sense. With a glance around, he began to regret his choice of taverns. Immediately, half the people within the room stopped to look at him. He knew why. He was pathetic: a washed-up, no talent townie, getting drunk ‘cause he didn't want to go home, where he lived with his father. He stumbled his way over to the bar. He didn't pay much attention to anyone, didn't care to. All they were, in his eyes, were reminders of what he couldn't be: a man with a real future.
He just had one goal, and that goal was to make it to a stool and order the strongest drink he could afford. He began his mission. Careful steps. Well, he thought they were careful. The music was blaring some of the current Top 40 hits that got played twenty times an hour on the radio. His vision didn't clear up as much as he'd like, but he didn't care.
He continued walking, until a large force blocked his path. He just rolled his eyes at the obstacle, which happened to be some college kid. He wore a shirt with some Greek symbols on it. A frat boy – that was even worse. Nick was about to just keep going, no words and no apologies. Until two hands shoved him roughly against a pool table near the wall.
"Watch it, loser!"
It took a lot to make Nick really snap on a normal day. But that moment, those words, caused it to happen within mere seconds. Perhaps it was the fact that he was stuck in Florida again; perhaps it was the alcohol, or that some college kid had the nerve to judge him. He wasn't sure. It could've been a combination of all three, even. It really didn't matter because there was no true thought behind the action of his fist slamming into the college boy's face, hearing the nose make a satisfying crack upon impact.
"Fuck you!" Nick yelled, after watching the younger man stumble back. "You don't know me!"
The kid charged at Nick, tackling him onto the pool table. Punches flew between the two as it quickly turned into a bar brawl. They rolled off the table and onto the floor. The two were throwing fists every which way, rolling along the ground, as the battle between them continued. It became evident that Nick was taking more of the beating. People tried to break them apart, but were thrown off by both in the process.
Soon, sirens could be heard. Someone had called the police, but neither cared. Nick didn't even care that he was losing. He cared that he was trying to prove that he was something. He wasn’t a loser, no matter how many dumb kids wanted to judge him.
The kid grabbed the stool Nick originally had been aiming for when he’d first entered the bar. Nick stared up from the ground, where he was lying; his vision spun around him in a haze, as he saw the stool come slamming towards him. There was severe pain within his skull, beyond anything he'd known up to that point. But it only lasted for a moment.
Because then came the bliss of darkness, as consciousness faded away from him.
