Gone Magazine

Let go and let God…the words seemed to echo off my footsteps as I walked down the sidewalk.  The arrogance of the phrase was the first thing to hit me earlier as I sat in a court ordered aa meeting; to think that god’s will may only be asserted after the release of our own.  Just the same I had given it a try.  I released my will there at the meeting; whatever that means.  I asked, begged and cried for forgiveness and, as usual, was left feeling just as empty as before but now with the painful singe of betrayal smoldering in the void.  Why was I the one denied the magic and the lights?  Denied the feeling of well being that supposedly washes over you as you say these magic words?

Whatever the case I did indeed let go and let god over four hours ago.  Since then god has taken me to my favorite dive bar and gotten me high on rot gut whiskey and cheap cigars.  God’s not much for conversation and short on cash, but that’s the way I like it.  God sat next to me for awhile, only getting up to make room for Lynda; a regular at the Royal Lee.  Lynda was a piece of work alright, she had a busted grill with a few dead teeth; the rest looking as if they were mourning the ones lost.  She had a voice like a meat grinder, the youthful pitch and energy lost to years of drinking and smoking.  Her laugh was the screech of a falcon swooping in for the kill, enough to make a grown man wince.  But even still I loved her in my way.  At times she would see to it I made it home when I got too drunk, placing me into a cab or walking me home when no cab could be found.  We looked out for each other not because we really liked each other, but because we were the only ones available for the job.

My apartment was roughly ten blocks from the Royal and I walked slowly and measured my steps so as not to appear too drunk.  Didn’t want to look like an easy mark to any thugs who might be looking.  Lynda had gone her way, just me and god now on the walk home.  Leaning against a tree to piss on the sidewalk, I closed my eyes for just a moment.  I woke leaning against the tree (not sure how much later) to the sound of gunshots just down the block.  Startled and a little confused, I zipped up and walked on cautiously.  A hooded figure ran at speed across the street and into an alley in the distance.  A man lay squirming on the ground just ahead maybe fifty feet up the block.  I picked up the pace and came within a few feet of him.  I knew the man lying on the ground.  It was Mort, a local man I knew only by name.  He looked up at me and spit out a few words.

“He was mad” Morty explained,  “I only had six bucks”.

I told Morty to hold still till help arrived.  I sat and waited for the cops to show.  They did, and shortly thereafter and ambulance arrived and they loaded Mort on and drove off.  I answered the usual questions, was grilled a little on how much I had had to drink, and let go to continue my walk home.

Finally reaching my door I couldn’t help but think that it should’ve been me out there bleeding in the street.  Hell I didn’t even have the six bucks Mort had, the guy probably would’ve aimed to kill.  I showered off the stink of the bar, lay down to sleep, and God slept on the couch.