Counting Colors

Trying: Consecutive Substack Story 1152

Photo by Efe Kurnaz on Unsplash

The blue is both pretty and too big on the wall.

It’s cop blue, and I panicked.

The neighbor kid, starts with an M, I forget, got stabbed.

This is Day 2.

I grabbed my pack of smokes and held it like a tiny cardboard teddy bear.

The cops weren’t here for me.

The shakes are more than shakes, they’re little drownings, all my muscles on a detox surfboard, headed for a coral reef.

I don’t know why my mind made that image. I’ve never been in water deeper than my waist but I’ve been in puke to my ankles.

I sip water and it laughs at me, plain, just nothing, something to put my lips on.

Maggino begged me to drink water.

Maggino begged me to go to rehab but when I said no he begged me to drink water and eat bite size candy to replace the sugar from the booze.

This is Day 2.

Maggino has two years, his wife bought him a pool table to celebrate.

Two fuckin years.

I don’t want to do two years, I just don’t want to die.

I wanna stop drinking so I can live to keep drinking and I don’t want nothing else.

The cops are gone on the street, the ambulance is gone, but the colors are still on the wall, dripping down the wall, Maggino begged me to go to rehab but I’m here, and I’m glad I didn’t get drunk and angry and stab that kid.

I hope he lives.

I hope I live and I hope these colors go away and this water starts tasting more like whiskey and less like I’m going crazy.

People are talking on the street. I can hear them. I’m glad that kid got stabbed because I know they’re talking about that kid getting stabbed and not talking about me.

This is Day 2.

Maggino said it goes away, pretty much, after five days.

Maggino said to go to rehab.

But I’m here and I wonder what colors are there.

***

If you like this one, or any of ‘em or all of ‘em, buymeacoffee.com/JimmyDoom

Thanks in advance, and thanks for reading. My first few days of sobriety weren’t exactly like this, but they were close.