— C. S. Lewis
The rumoured party fizzles out—I don't have to play bad cop. My landlady's wild daughter is nowhere to be seen and it starts to thunder and rain.
I like rainstorms, but tonight, I’m battling all my demons—add in emptiness and boredom.
I pour half a tumbler of Glenmorangie, adding three ice cubes. I play a Hall and Oates CD and try not to think about my ex, Meg—too much.
Why Emily rented me a room in her house I have no idea. I'm a ruin.
I lie on the bed trying to figure out where everything unraveled, but can’t. I feel like I’m raving. Half in and half out of sleep—sipping scotch and getting off on the music.
Last thing I recall is Emily's daughter, Nicky, in her green bikini—brown eyes staring up, and me staring down…
“Nicky! What the hell’s going on, Brett?”
I wake out of a whiskey haze and see Emily in the doorway and glance over and see Nicky curled up naked beside me in the bed.
I’m too dazed to process. Emily’s got Nicky by the hair and is pulling her toward the door.
“I knew this was a risk—You’re outta here Brett—today. I never want to see your face again.”
“But Emily…”
Her back is to me. One arm shoots straight up. I get the salute.
Inside of an hour, everything I own is shoved into my Vette. I leave a check for the full month’s rent on the table.
I find out later she cashes it.
Six months pass, and I’m slapped with a paternity suit—Nicky’s pregnant.
I’m working nights in a brewery of all places—watching bottles endlessly pass before a light.
Twenty minutes of staring mindlessly—and then, for variety, I rotate to a new task—risking losing an ear to flying glass on a packing belt as beer bottles drop into cases with occasionally twisted liners.
Half my salary goes to atone for my sin. I become what every cop hates—a pedophile.
I can’t be a cop because of booze—now I can’t teach kids because— My mind won’t allow me to frame the thought. I have to push the word out of my head.
How did this happen? I know—Booze, of course. The fact I can’t recall the details is nothing new—it happens all the time on benders—
It doesn’t lessen the guilt.
My life goes on this way for two years until one day there’s a knock on my door. I open it to my ex student, Janice Turner. At least she remembers me.
“Hi, Mr. Devine.”
I’m slightly hazy—fortunately, just getting started—so, I can put on a sober face.
“Hey Janice! What are you doing here?”
“I found out where you were staying and wanted to drop by and see you.”
Her face is so open and innocent—it actually hurts me to look at her.
“I’d invite you in, but, under the circumstances…”
She smiles. “It’s all right, Mr. Devine—we can talk out here.”
She motions to what passes for a garden. You don’t get much in a cheap motel.
We sit at a picnic table so old and weathered it’s turned grey.
“So, what’s on your mind, Janet?”
“I know all about it, Sir—so you don’t have to be embarrassed. Nicky filled me in on all the details.”
“I see.” My head’s aching and I scrub my face with my hands. I can feel heavy stubble—I probably look a mess.
“You say Nicky told you all the details?”
“She told everyone all the details. Kinda made me mad.”
“Ya well, that’s what happens, I guess.”
“Do you know what happened, Mr. Devine?”
“Not really—I was drinking—a lot. I was totally out of it.”
“I thought that’s what you’d say.”
I colored. “Guess we all need an excuse.”
“I know you didn’t do it.”
“Aw, Janet—thanks. I know you mean well.”
“No, Sir—I mean I know you didn’t do it, because one night when Nicky was drunk she told me what really happened.”
“I don’t understand.”
She looked off into the distance as if picturing the scene in her head.
“Nicky stayed over at her boyfriend’s that night. She got drunk and had unprotected sex. Afterwards, she started thinking—worrying she got pregnant. She came home and went upstairs to talk to you and saw you passed out on the bed. That’s when she got the idea.”
“What idea?”
“She decided to crawl into bed beside you and accuse you of sleeping with her.”
Janice’s words roared through my mind. The thought never occurred, Nicky would lie. But as soon as the hope kindled, it just as quickly died.
“Even if it’s true, the harm’s done—my reputation’s ruined.”
Janice was insistent. “Don’t you get it, Sir? Why hasn’t Nicky’s mom filed charges against you?”
“I don’t know—I figured she was letting me off, as long as I paid child support.”
“How much are you paying?”
“Half my salary.”
She looked at me pointedly.
The pieces began to fall into place. Emily had trouble making ends meet—that’s why she took me in.
“Are you saying Emily deliberately framed me so I’d keep paying child support?”
She was poker faced. “If I were you, I’d go to the authorities. I’ll testify in your defence about what Nicky said. You can demand a paternity test.”
I was so happy I wanted to kiss her—but under the circumstances, just thanked her and politely shook her hand.
It turned out she was right. The minute my attorney mentioned a paternity test, Nicky folded and admitted everything.
My name was cleared and Nicky and her mom were charged with fraud.
I got my life back, but, the truth is, I can never go back—at least to the same place—too much of a scandal.
I know the drill.
They’d put me on a treadmill like a whiskey teacher. I’d be always drowning and perpetually resurfacing like a deathless man flailing in his own weakness.
I couldn’t do ups and downs again.
Instead, I took a job as a salesman at a luxury car dealership. It’s not the same professional atmosphere as teaching, but it is more lucrative.
Janice and I remained friends. Actually, we’re dating. The rollercoaster ride of emotions has levelled off and so has my drinking.
Alcohol enabled me to withdraw to a place where I could be anesthetized.
I lived a myth where nothing mattered.
My sin was my weakness—my readiness to give up.
But it’s not over. I still struggle—I’m just not as brittle.
Now when life’s storms blow, I don’t hide, just bend
I’m living the good life with Janice—savouring every feeling—getting stronger with the struggle.
Walking against the wind..