Free From – Chapter 20 – July 20th

I hope you will join me this month as we JOURNEY each day through our short story. It is about finding FREEDOM in the midst of all the captivating pieces in life that steal our peace which we need FREE FROM!

FREE FROM
July 20, 2021

Psalm 138:8, The Lord perfects that which concerns me; Your mercy, O Lord, endures forever; do not forsake the works of Your hands.’ (NKJV)

Chapter 20

That was just the beginning. The Beach Police eventually picked him up out of a gutter he’d stumbled into on the way to his vehicle. He’d awakened with the night before in his mouth, sand in his shorts and little gnats swarming in his ears. He found himself face-down, outside the Riptide once the sun woke up the dark and greeted the day. He’d almost made it to his truck, but the heat and stench had him reeling in a trashcan. They confiscated his keys, drove him home and gave him instructions to visit the precinct when he sobered up. Problem was, Legend never sobered up. He took off at a fast pace as soon as they turned the corner at the end of his street, hiding from view of his front window so his kids wouldn’t see.
It was a game they played. He’d walk his sad self to the station, chewing on cigars that made him wish to vomit but disguised the smell of the brewery flowing in his veins. They’d do a sobriety check and tell him to go home and get some sleep. He’d find himself hours later in the back of another bar with his head in his hands and his heart leaking on the bartop to whomever would listen. Days passed just like this. He thought of Annie and cried harder, worried after Breize and Blayze, but nothing made him stand up straight and fly right. The battery for his cell phone died and he stopped wondering if he was missed and what Annie might say if she had the chance. He looked around corners before walking, dreading a run-in with Buck or other family friends. Surely, he’d lost his job by now, he was convinced. No turning back now…and why? A weekend away with his bride! Ha! His clothes were so stiff from the filth of daily grunge, they could almost walk themselves home.
Legend heard the warning bell sound in his head when someone stole his wallet from his pants pocket during a drunken dip in the ocean. Now things had gotten real. He had no way to report his stuff missing because he hadn’t a clue what he had that was stolen; he had no phone to use to report it with had he known; no money, nowhere to go, no way to get there. The bartender gave him a few on the house, politely closed the door in his face at the end of the night, and Legend spent a fitful night wrestling with himself on the beach. A new day dawned.
His wallet mysteriously appeared in a dune, void of cash and cards, but Legend at least had his license so he could retrieve his keys. After bathing as best he could in a public sink, he meandered his way to the precinct and was met with far better luck this time. It’s amazing how beautiful life can be when one is sober, he was whistling to himself as he drove toward home, the past week a stupor in his head, like he had lost a week. It was almost as if he had been on vacation in a foreign country and was now disembarking and making his way through customs. Or a coma…fancy that! like he had been in a coma, he guffawed. Actually, he kinda had!
Maybe he’d imagined everything, Legend thought; perhaps he could reconcile what had transpired. He was trying to wrap his head around fuzzy memories of the past week, but it all seemed incredibly blurry. Even the image of the man who’d caressed his wife—an impression he thought would forever scar him and be emblazoned on his brain—had somehow become bleary. Could it have been a bad dream, a nightmare?
Legend inched down the street to the jobsite. It took some guts to show up here at in the middle of a workday as if he was just coming from the lumberyard or hardware store, on an errand for the boss. He knew he looked terrible and likely smelled worse, but he’d better just get it over. He learned that a long time ago—ya screw up and nobody else gonna fix it for ya. You’re on your own. You come into the world alone and you go through it alone and you cash out alone; you pay your own dues.
Buck met him before he could even climb out of the truck cab. “What the heck?” as if he’d been waiting right there, hand shielding his eyes from the afternoon sun, watching the street for his truck to pull in the drive. “I don’t know if I should whoop your tail, boy, or give you a hug. What the heck?”
Legend hung his head sheepishly. He felt like dung. “I know, boss. I’m sorry.”
“What the heck? You mean, I’m your boss? You remember that much, do you?” Buck was hurt. He didn’t bother to try to hide it. “I thought I was your friend too. What you did—well, that really bit. I oughta kick your tail.”
The tears and the story tumbled out, in a race to be free. Legend felt as if he were recounting someone else’s tragedy, but his stomach sank, and with it, his soul too, as he recognized the lack of surprise on his friend’s face. Finally, his heart in his hands, he demanded, “You knew? You’re kidding me, right? You knew? Oh my god! You knew!”

To Be Continued…