Just a Little Tired

I took an oxy for the pain this morning. Down to about three left. I don’t know what the expiration date is on them, but I do know they’ll continue to work well past it. Used to be a lot easier to get with my old PCP, but he went and retired and the new guy believes in stuff like diet, and stretching, and exercise. I want to tell him that I’m one of those lucky bastards that opioids work for as intended; no lie. No weird side effects or dizziness. Just, the pain stops. Percs were great when we’d have a bunch of games in a week. Like hitting the reset button.

Reset button.

Back up.

The ball tips off the bat and the catcher’s mitt doesn’t catch up with it. It hits me square between the eyes. I am not wearing a mask. Blood…

No, too far. Forward.

I remember the moment before impact thinking, “he’s swinging that pretty hard.” The chair smashed into the peak of my forehead. My forehead won. The seat of the chair popped off with a loud, wooden clonk. Steel legs wrapped around my shoulders like a medal. His face saying “oh fuck,” mine – facing away from the camera – smiling. I bet that looks fucking sick. Stumble, teeter, fall.

Rewind. Play.

The chair explodes off my head. Rewind. Grainy VHS noises. Play. Again.

“Hell yeah.”

“That didn’t hurt?”

“Not too bad.”

It hurt more than the 15-foot double-footstomp off back porch onto a chair on my chest, but not much more. I am the world’s toughest 13-year-old.

Still too far.

A slapshot to the facemask, a dull ringing in the ears that doesn’t fade as quickly as it should. Was that intentional? A montage of clappers, wristers, slashes, knees, skates and sticks to the cheap, ill-fitting plastic helmet from a second-hand sports store.

Again.

A cheap shot, a knee to the side of my helmet. I wake up and there’s fewer bars than there should be in front of me. And grass. Oh right, football. This is my first concussion playing football.

Forward again.

A decade under the influence. Binge-drinking. Browning out. Blacking out. I am 160-lbs soaking wet; I am drinking with the rugby team. I am building my mystique. Upperclassmen back down from fights. My roommate files for a transfer. I discover tequila. Ole.

Graduate.

I hadn’t been drinking that much. It was the black ice. I was in control, and then I wasn’t I watched it happen with absolute clarity. Unable to stop it. Here comes that pole. This is gonna hurt…

The airbags didn’t deploy. Front windshield is cracked to shit. Head throbbing from where it hit the steering wheel. How long was I out? Car shaped like a giant letter-C around the impact point on the passenger side. Told my buddy to come out tonight. Glad he declined. The car starts. I force it to limp home.

I’m supposed to stay up all night. I go to a buddy’s house. Crawl in bed with his older sister. We talk and watch Lord of the Rings on her small TV. Make out a little. I leave when the sun comes up. Still invincible.

Fall off a railing, trying to do a flip into the pool. Hit concrete. Friends think I’m dead. Wake up laughing. Have a few more beers. Fuck my girlfriend in the pool. Pass out.

Somewhere along the way there, can’t keep track of the chronology, I run my mouth. I get punched in the head. Guy breaks his hand and gets tossed out of the bar. I get to finish my drink before I’m sent packing. Another W.

I’m getting fat. I take up boxing. I work at it. I enjoy it. Weight comes off. I get decent. I start doing amateur fights. I’m a god, until I’m not. Guy knocks my contact lenses out in round one. I push him to a five-round split decision without any depth perception. Beers on him after the fight.

Girlfriend leaves me, different one this time. Takes the dog. I call out sick from work. I do not leave the house again until every bottle in it is empty. I send a lot of texts. I have some visitors. I am consoled.

Fast forward.

I am married.

Fast forward.

I have a kid.

Fast forward.

I slip while putting together a swingset, bang my head on the slide. It’s plastic, not even that bad. I’m pushing 40 but I’m still imvincible.

I am getting old though. Tired all the time. Probably just from kid. Just need to take a few more naps is all. Maybe cut back on the drinking. Doc says the vitals are good.

I fall asleep behind the wheel. Wake up with a swerve. No harm, no foul.

I fall asleep behind the wheel. Family’s in the car. I wake up with a swerve, tires over rumble strips… wife offers to drive, but I’m fime.

Forgetting things a lot more now, miss a deadline and get passed over for a promotion at work. Wish my kid a happy birthday; I’m off by a month. Oops. Laugh it off.

Headaches are a lot worse these days. I quit drinking, the hangovers are worse tham death. Didn’t get that promotion so money’s a little tight as the kid starts thinking about collage. Health imsurance is shit, but blood pressure is still good. Cholesterol okay. Not working out as much because of exertion headaches, but I golf every so oftem.

Forget our anniversary. Typical stupid husbamd. Wife’s not mad, wife is comcermed. I’ve always been forgetful, though. Nothing new.

Nightmares more frequemt. Hearimg voices. Muffled like through static. I see the faces of kids I went to grade school with, but they look like melting wax statues. I can’t think of amy of their names.

I call my wife by my ex-girlfriend’s name. We’ve been married twenty years; together for thirty. She asks me who “Stacy” is; it’s a name she’s long forgottem but used to haunt her. I catch myself before amswerimg “you are.”

“Uh, sorry. Someone from work. Brain fart.”

Just the trouble with age.

Sound in the middle of the night. Scuffling feet on the first floor. Did I forget to lock up? I’ve been forgetting that a lot. I feel lucid. Adrenaline pumping. We bought a gun during the bad years, I haven’t taken it to the range in a long time, but it’s still loaded in the bedside table. I grab it. I creep downstairs. Faint light from the kitchen. Fridge door is open. I round the steps slowly, quietly. The door closes. A man’s standing there. I pull the trigger.

The man is my son. The safety is on. He’s bleary-eyed, back from a night of drinking in the woods with friends. A grown boy, I barely recognized him. I didm’t recognize him.

“Jesus, dad!”

Dad? Dad. I lower the gum a few secomds after I should. Dad, I’m Dad. I… gun… I…

I’m playimg catcher without a mask on. A foul ball catches me betweem the eyes. I wake up on a football field, and there’s a chair there. It starts to snow. Cold. Ice. I’m drivimg on ice. I… I have my helmet on. I am riding imto Helm’s Deep. I…

I…

I…

…I?