Warm latee on a crisp fall day

Floating above the city, Harrison sleeps beside his invisible
demons. They belong to him. He alone appreciates their presence guiding
him along as their corrupt minds do so please. The alarm clock shoots
through his ears, like a bullet through his chest. And it travels
through his body, out his back and ends swimming in his water bed.
Slowly drowing in the pool of blood and water, Harrison is still.
Except for the apparent grin on his face from some unknown
satisfaction. The alarm clock continually goes wild.
Harrison sits up. His naked body is covered in nothing more than an old
bed sheet. The cool fall air of the day circulates his room through his
single window and blows through his unkempt-mad-man hair style. His
rubs his still sleeping eyes, and opens them like a new born to the
unfamiliar world. On his own little island, stranded in the middle of
his four walls, the sea of pizza boxes, beer bottles, newspapers and
clothing clutter his space and his mind. His mind constantly running
wild with meaningless thoughts. This is life, a bed, a dresser, minimal
furniture. A pictures hangs limply on the poorly painted beige walls,
Marlayna the goddess of his world.
He picks up the alarm clock, hurls it to the floor, and it shatters
into a million little plastic shards. Harrison stands up and flings his
arms in the air in a big cat-like stretch, and stumbles over to his
window.
He greets the day outside his second floor apartment view, an exquisite
fall day he thought. Standing stark naked in the window, which lacked
curtains, mother's hands covered the eyes of their virgin children
passing by, and busneiss men hastily sped past him, in disgust. He
payed no attention to these people. He just stared off into the
distance, no focus, just looking, just watching the minions he swore he
saw prancing across the street. He waggled his undomesticated hair,
killed the rest of the flat alcohol in the bottle, than tossed it to
the floor.
Harrison finally left the stage that was his window. Plopping onto his
bed, he noticed he had two messages on his answering machine. He
wondered who they were from and thought for a second, still lying naked
on his water bed. Well, ten minutes ago, before his alarm clock
shattered, it was twelve-thirty-five exactly. He guesses it's around
quarter to, now. The message is probably from work, one from work. He
seldom was there, they were probably firing him, he figured. He pressed
down his middle finger on the button.
"Hey, uhhh. Harry, where are ya today? I mean, it's ten thirty now. You
were supposed to be here at nine. Uh... Ya know this is about the tenth
time I've had to call you about this. What's happened to you? Uhh. I
hope your alright. Um, don't bother coming today when you decide to get
out of bed-whenever that may be. Actually, don't bother coming in
anymore, we don't need slackers like you! Have a wonderful day!"
Jerry's angry humor tickled him. Although he had just fired him, Harry
couldn't hold it against him. Harrison remembered when he was the most
honored employee at his firm just ten years ago. The days when he got
out of bed on time, lived in a beautiful apartment in the heart of the
city. That was before it all went bad, before he turned to alternative
methods of ridding himself of problems when his social drinking became
his lifestyle. That's how he met his new friends.
These were loyal, and no one could take them away, they only
multiplied. They followed him everywhere, steered him in the directions
they so choose. Of course, since these friends have entered his life,
he left his debauchery and joined the low-lifes of society. But he had
his faithful friends and no one could tell him otherwise.
Second message.
"Hey Harry. It's me." An angel, he thought. Why is she calling? "We
haven't spoken in a while. I know, I know. I'm sorry, I just, I find it
hard to bear seeing you like you are. But I think you need help.
Actually that's what I was calling you about, I know this place, it
won't cost you anything. It's a support group, I heard about it from a
friend. Um, call me and we'll work something out okay? I guess that's
it. Bye."
She was the only good thing that had happened to him in his life. She
was dazzling too, and she had loved him. All of the women he could have
had, all of the money, the recognition, the life. It all went to hell,
but she remained. Or so he thought, after all this was the first time
he had heard from her in six months. Even in the most turbulent times,
she wasn't there. But he could believe whatever he wanted, that's what
his friends told him. But a support group? Those are for druggies and
alcoholics! He was a social drinker, he didn't rank with the likes of
them.
Harrison dialed her number. Even through his inebriated state, he
always knew her number. He could never forget anything about her, and
that was the problem. Her incandescent blue eyes, that seemed to
penetrate his mind. Or her maiden-like long black hair he loved to run
his fingers through when they'd lie down together, talk and make love
all night. The answer was meek.
"Hello?"
He could hardly bring himself to form words.
"Hullo? Uh... Marlayna? It's Harry. I'm returning your call"
"Right, well I wanted to talk to you about the support group, are you
in? Will you do it? For me?"
Godamn. He thought. She always knew how to deplete him, how to get him
to do things reluctantly.
"Well it's nine-thirty tonight, if your interested. I'll even drive you
there, since they repossesed your car and all."
"God I love you". He couldn't believe he said it. Marlayna wondered if
it was the alcohol or Harry speaking.
"Don't get into this again please. Please, I can't do this. I'll see
you at nine-fifteen. I'll meet you outside your building. Please be
there?"
Silence.
"Harry PLEASE?" She sighed.
"Uh, ok."
Before saying goodbye she hung up. He stayed on the other end of the
line for a good ten minutes before he realized, she was gone. He wasn't
going sacrifice her again he was resolute. Tonight was the night, carpe
diem, she wouldn't slip through his fingers like he had let her in the
past. He inspected the mounds of clothing, etc. on his floor. Nothing
was clean, he couldn't see her in any of these things. Harrison had to
be presentable, he had to be everything he used to be, without being
anything like himself now at all.
Marlayna and Harrison met back in the day. He was a funny character,
with a commanding presence, that was even a little intimidating to her.
Despite his massive size, (He was six foot ten) Marlayna thought of him
as a big Teddy bear. That's how they met. In the big fantastic city, in
the charming little park. Two of the most improbable people fell in
love. Marlayna, unlike he, stood only five foot one inch tall, but she
was of character, and Harrison was a sucker for that.
The day they encountered at the park, a crisp fall day much like this
one, she thought. How unlikely for a lawyer to just go for a walk, and
to meet a candy-shoppe owner, and fall in love. Love has a way of
operating like a rich clich?. She was sitting on a park bench, deep
into a cheesy romance novel on her day off. The leaves were cripsy
under her feet, and her long black madien-like hair waved in the
breeze, like a cool sea in its own private world.
Harrison was having a bad day again. He went out to get a beer at noon.
To cool off, he could think of nothing better than a stroll, and
writing under his favorite willow tree (Writing had been his guilty
pleasure since he was a boy). That's when he spotted her, reading a
book by some woman author with a five syllable name, on a little bench.
It seemed like all of those woman authors had five syllable names, and
the covers were always pink. But the book was of no interest to him as
the girl was, his madien. She was absolutly ravishing, he found it hard
to believe she wasn't in the arms of some other man. Moreover, she was
adjacent to his favorite willow tree.
"Don't you love the fall? Don't you love watching the vast array of
colorful leaves spiral to the ground as if controlled by some sort of
magical, enchanted....Enchantress?" Harrison grinned.
Being a writer he knew just how to speak poetically, even if his
vocabulary lacked a bit. Harrison knew just how to approach a girl like
Marlayna, since she was enraptured in a tacky love novel, she'd adore
his tawdry pickup line. Indeed, she was taken by his robust presence,
his conspicuous eyes and all of these loving approaches by this
stranger. He had every angle covered, even she was impressed. And
Marlayna had been wooed with the likes of the greats.
As taking as he was, he was an even more impressive liar, telling
Marlayna he was an amateur photographer. He went off on tangents about
all of his travels, Egypt, Africa, Back packing through Europe with
nothing more than a camera and a few french francs in his pocket. He
had done it all, and he had done it all twice, or so that's how his
imagination took him. He than explained to her how he was doing a
layout on city life, and some of the poignant aspects, such as she.
That's when the "Starving young photographer" convinced her to pose
under the willow tree for him.
She was more beautiful than any girl Harrison had ever known, he was
mezmorized. And standing behind that lens, for one solitary moment, he
caught a glimpse of the life. The life he could have with her, the love
he could posess. And the leaves fell into her madien-like hair, she the
enchantress.
Now it was just a picture hanging on a wall. No one knew the story but
he, and no one could ever fathom his love for Marlayna, not even his
friends who seemed to know all and dominate all in his life. That
moment, that picture, that frame in time, drowned with all the other
good things in his life, in a stagnent pool of alcohol.
Harrison made a bold move of facing the light of day. Beer in hand, he
staggered out of his apartment. He had managed to get dressed, and
although still unkempt, he'd cross the crime of indecent exposure off
his list of things he was doing wrong at the present time. He thought
maybe he'd get a haircut, buy a new shirt, basically burn the rest of
the money he had on material things before it went toward replenishing
his alcohol supply. Of course, he didn't really have money to waste
being that he just got fired, but for Marlayna-Anything for Marlayna he
thought.
He tried to sober up for the first time in six months. Drinking his
favorite cup of starbucks coffee (A double Latee, extra foam, extra
cinnoman, extra vanilla, and just a drop of skim milk) was suprisingly
refreshing, lacking alcohol. He savored it, as if it were liquid
Marlayna, he thought if she were a drink, she be a warm latee on a
crisp fall day.
Smoke curls vaporized into the friggid fall night. Harrison posed
against the wall, like James Dean in his leather jacket-cigarette in
hand. It was nine sixteen, on the dot. And he saw her headlights slowly
heading down his sullied street. His mind raging, What would he say?
What would he do? How would he greet her? How could he make her fall in
love with him again?
"Hullo, my name is Harrison, and I am an alcoholic." He felt like
someone just shoved a rubber ball down his throat, as his tears
gathered up. And he was choking, choking on his pride. He glanced over
at the beautiful Marlayna for approval.