All things end it is said. I suppose it could be better that way. But I'm not the type to give up. I looked for any sign that I could save us, that I could do something to change the way we were drying up. I reasoned that I must feel it so much more deeply than he did. In retrospect I know he felt it too but maybe was even less able to produce evidence of emotion... I think too that the fighting had worn on him more than me. He made me stop trying in the end. He didn't want to but Im glad he did. If he hadn't made me stop I would have kept on and on and worn the skin off my hands and knees from crawling after him. I was sick.
I rolled out of bed half panicked that I was late... I'd fallen asleep in my clothes again. There were violet half circles under my eyes from typing a study guide last night and writing two new lesson plans for the kids at the academy. I had forgotten too about the Parker class too. Uff. Dr Parker was this inexorably tall thin man who looked like he was made of twigs. I squeezed the bridge of my nose and there was a dull ache from drinking. My closet at grampa's house was my stash box. The floor in there was littered with bottles. Vodka and beer mostly. I was still working 30 plus hours at starbucks and was part time grad schooling say 8-12 credits a semester. I felt like I rallied rather well though.
It was a 30 minute drive to school and I threw on some things from the floor that seemed cleanish and tried to quietly leave, not wanting to wake grandma or papa though in retrospect I think they had been awake for hours. It was foggy on the drive and I sped through the back roads trying to take the quick and dirty route I hated being late slightly more than sobriety those days and was pushing the white 4 door escort to the limits of it's cheap Michigan manufacture. When I got closer into town I ran up over a curb. "Shit!" I yelled not slowing down. 8:47 and I had hope to make it before the bell. I skidded to a park and tossed gravel in the townie lot. There should be a shuttle seeing as the lot is nearly the next town over. I hiked up my book bag over my shoulder like a mustang on a mail run and ran to the music building, ignoring looks of righteous indignation. It's easier to do that when you're running full tilt.
The bell rang when I sat down and I could feel their looks on me... I was the most white trash Christian in the room. Hail trailer park Jesus on your chicken wire cross.
Anyways... I hangover squinted at Parker the whole lecture. To keep from falling asleep I kept imagining what his mornings must have been like for the last 30 years... but..... in my mind it was cut into violent "Requiem for Dream" style sequences. You remember? But like with the same old coffee pot... or pen stains on his oxford shirt... or notes left on the refrigerator.
"Mr. Medlin?"
"Oh huh?" I say glassy eyed and rubbing crust from the corner of my right eye.
"I was asking what you thought about your reading assignment in a 'Christian Approach to Music..? Can you share with the class?"
Shit.
"I uh." Looked around the room at people who had books open on their desks and I suddenly hated them all. I realized in the crystallized moment of terror. I could bull shit him, or.... just be honest and tell him I had decided no to read what Jesus thought about the Backstreet Boys; opting instead to get blackout drunk wo hooo!..... So... I began speaking with the earnestness of prayer.
"I thought the author raised very important arguments for a more traditional approach to worship... I mean it's fairly clear that the contemporary influences musically boost attendance...but I found his attempts to link his arguments to scripture were tenuous...The Bible doesn't say enough about music for us to rule that it's inappropriate to allow pop influences in sacred music. I mean I think it's tacky but... we all have opinions. "
Shit.... Why do I do these things? Like why did I choose hang over day to jump up on the desk and do a little theological strip tease? I must have sounded like I had just come from Bonaroo.
"I see." He said with one of those 'poor thing' looks on his face. " Will you make sure you come to class in dress code next period please."
"Sure."
And that was that. I think some things are just funnier when there's a little alcohol left in your blood from the night before. I didn't open a note book for the rest of the period... Just kept my chin in my hand and kept imagining Parkers life. So pedantic I could only imagine getting school shooter crazy about it. But everyones different. Humans are incredibly adaptive. Its incalculable what people are able to live with and live through... Its unbelievable the amount that we can endure. The amount of toxin; emotional, physical or otherwise that we can add to our own psychological ecosystems. Parker and I were alike in that. He also colluded. His toxins were just cheaper.
