Part 8
Is it that it's enclosed that screaming in a car seems more venomous? We tossed thoughts, stinging, back and forth, frustration sawing through the material into the intangible. Inexperience leant a hand and the result was that my car ended up smack in the center of the train tracks, tires flattened. And no amount of anger was going to move it.
The fight ended and I sent her home. She was drunk again and I was tired of fighting anyway. It wasn't our first fight and wouldn't be our last. It did however solidify my stance on the situation. Slowly she began the walk home, regret weighing on her, but not enough to keep her from getting drunk again, or fighting.
But the problem at hand was, how was I going to get my car off the tracks. Lingering remnants of the fight took little bites out of me as I fished out some change to make a phone call.
My first call was to my friend Jay. I had totalled his mom's car once and miraculously escaped unscathed. He laughed the whole way over to the Esplanade.
We tried several different tactics but failed miserably. Well, miserably on my part as Jay was still laughing. The two dimes in my pocket afforded me one more phone call so I had to make it count. If I called my parents, most likely I wouldn't get any help. Also I would be yelled at and I'd had more than my daily requirement for the day. I juggled the names of everyone I knew and settled on my friend Lisa.
She was always willing to help me out of bad spots. For which I'm grateful for. Again the fates shined upon me and not only did she come down and help. Her mother let her use their AAA coverage to get a tow off the tracks. The story was that I was teaching Lisa how to drive a stick shift and she launched it on the tracks. If only fate would grace me with another smile now, my life would taste just a little less bitter
While waiting for the tow and my diminutive savior I talked with Jay about the fight I'd just had. Sam and I had been friends now for a couple of years. We were extremely close but I had pretty much had it with fighting. She had developed a bad problem with alcohol.
My views on alcohol are a little off kilter, I'll admit, since I had discovered I was allergic to it. I spent a couple years experimenting heavily and finally decided to quit when I was 15 years old. Everyone knew this and took any concerns I had about Sam with an unecessary grain of salt.
The truth was, she had a problem. Every other night she called me and told me she had blacked out and couldn't remember anything. She told me of finding herself spread eagle in the back of a pickup truck she didn't recognize in a place she'd never been. Everyone else took the attitude that she was young, she should party. Noone knew that all of her grandparents had alcoholism in their veins.
Maybe I was overly concerned because I took it personally since that's when she would fight with me. Regardless, I made the decision that day that I would no longer provide her with alcohol. I told her that if she wanted to spend time with me not to bother if she was drinking. And she did it. Whenever we spent time together she would not drink and didn't think about it at all. So perhaps I was overreacting. As it turns out, I wasn't.
The fight ended and I sent her home. She was drunk again and I was tired of fighting anyway. It wasn't our first fight and wouldn't be our last. It did however solidify my stance on the situation. Slowly she began the walk home, regret weighing on her, but not enough to keep her from getting drunk again, or fighting.
But the problem at hand was, how was I going to get my car off the tracks. Lingering remnants of the fight took little bites out of me as I fished out some change to make a phone call.
My first call was to my friend Jay. I had totalled his mom's car once and miraculously escaped unscathed. He laughed the whole way over to the Esplanade.
We tried several different tactics but failed miserably. Well, miserably on my part as Jay was still laughing. The two dimes in my pocket afforded me one more phone call so I had to make it count. If I called my parents, most likely I wouldn't get any help. Also I would be yelled at and I'd had more than my daily requirement for the day. I juggled the names of everyone I knew and settled on my friend Lisa.
She was always willing to help me out of bad spots. For which I'm grateful for. Again the fates shined upon me and not only did she come down and help. Her mother let her use their AAA coverage to get a tow off the tracks. The story was that I was teaching Lisa how to drive a stick shift and she launched it on the tracks. If only fate would grace me with another smile now, my life would taste just a little less bitter
While waiting for the tow and my diminutive savior I talked with Jay about the fight I'd just had. Sam and I had been friends now for a couple of years. We were extremely close but I had pretty much had it with fighting. She had developed a bad problem with alcohol.
My views on alcohol are a little off kilter, I'll admit, since I had discovered I was allergic to it. I spent a couple years experimenting heavily and finally decided to quit when I was 15 years old. Everyone knew this and took any concerns I had about Sam with an unecessary grain of salt.
The truth was, she had a problem. Every other night she called me and told me she had blacked out and couldn't remember anything. She told me of finding herself spread eagle in the back of a pickup truck she didn't recognize in a place she'd never been. Everyone else took the attitude that she was young, she should party. Noone knew that all of her grandparents had alcoholism in their veins.
Maybe I was overly concerned because I took it personally since that's when she would fight with me. Regardless, I made the decision that day that I would no longer provide her with alcohol. I told her that if she wanted to spend time with me not to bother if she was drinking. And she did it. Whenever we spent time together she would not drink and didn't think about it at all. So perhaps I was overreacting. As it turns out, I wasn't.
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