My years at St. Thomas University were nothing special, I played Volleyball for St. Thomas again in 2010, but didn't enjoy it at all. I got most improved player award at the end of the season, which was bittersweet; bittersweet because I had made it through the year without quitting the team, but the only thing I felt I'd improved upon that year was drinking, drinking.... and perhaps attending more classes.
Often times I 'd go out partying instead of adhering to academic obligations and then I'd lie to my professors about why I hadn't passed in assignments that were now past due. This went on throughout the entirety of my Bachelor of Arts degree; the lies reached a climax in an English class I took in the last semester of my last year at St. Thomas.
I lied to the professor and told her my Maternal Grandfather had passed away, and that that was the reason why my assignment hadn't been handed in. She asked for an obituary by email as proof, and I froze on the other end. I considered making one up myself or just taking someone else's from some obscure newspaper in Ontario. Then I realized there was nowhere to turn, nowhere to go but to tell the truth. To lie about the death of a loved one. How low is that? I had to come clean. The next email I sent her was riddled with regret and remorse; more for getting caught than anything else; what a coward....She did however allow me to pass the course, which made it possible for me to graduate; she never did respond to my e-mailed confession, can't blame her I suppose.
You (the reader) and I can't move past graduation yet though, there are a few important events to wrap up first. With that being said, it's now the first few months of 2013 and Mildred and I are still together. Still together because as mentioned earlier; Mildred is something of a prophet. A prophet because she still agreed to stay with me even after her parents gave me the boot. What you say? Why was I kicked out? Well, during a night of partying at Sally and Sam's place in early 2013 I had broken up with Mildred. Since she is an absolute gem, my reasons for breaking up with her were not honourable in any way; "her nose is crooked (not actually) and she doesn't own a respectable apron, this relationship is over!", nah, that wasn't the reason... I just wanted to go out on the town that night free from the confines of a monogamous relationship. I wanted freedom while intoxicated, and conversely, I also wanted a shoulder to mope on when hungover; what a selfish contradiction, and I knew I couldn't have both, so I chose to break-up with Mildred.
While my motive for breaking up with Mildred during a night out was despicable, it also helped relay the truth of the relationship, it was finished. I knew it was over, while caring deeply for Mildred, I never really fell in love with her. Over and over again I'd reiterate the fact that Mildred was patient, loving, understanding, kind, amongst a host of other positive attributes, yet the feelings, despite my best efforts, would not manifest.
The mornings after a night of monstrous gluttony I yearned for someone to hold me, to tell me everything was going to be okay, to save me from myself. It terrified me to think of life without that safety blanket. All the while in the back of my mind I knew Mildred's time was being wasted, and it ate me up, and so I thought that breaking up with her while drunk would be the perfect way to avoid the pain of separation; selfish indeed.
After the break-up that night (at 11:00pm) Sally took it upon herself to call Mildred's Dad (Ted) (presumably at 11:30pm) and to tell him what had happened between Mildred and I. He was furious, as you can imagine. Here was this kid, living in his house, eating his food, using his car, who just decided to impulsively end things with his daughter while inebriated.
The news of the break-up and how it went down stoked Ted's anger and brought his temper to a boiling point I had not yet witnessed, and in response, he called my Dad to tell him just how lost I really was, and how I lacked any kind of direction. When the phone call concluded Ted threw all of
my belongings into his van and raced into town in a fit of recklessness.
I arrived home that night at 3:00am, was a bit sloppy, but not black-out. When I stepped out of the cab, I realized that Ted had thrown all of my possessions in the snowbank. Tears streamed down my face as my feet brought me slowly up my father's driveway and into his house. I told "Russ the Bus" what had happed, he put his arms around me for a brief moment, and then we agreed to clean up the mess together. Afterwards, once all of my belongings were brought inside, I solemnly made my way up to my bedroom to escape the nightmare my alcoholism and I had created (what a great team).
When I got sober the next morning, I, once again, could not handle being alone, so I frantically and desperately called Mildred to try and mend the situation. Now, Mildred was loyal to a fault, as I sputtered the broken, jittery words out of my mouth, to see if she would be willing to get back together with me, I was relieved and not overly surprised, when she immediately said "yes".
My Dad said it was okay for me to move back in, which was great, because I had nowhere else to go. Mildred started staying almost every night until it was evident that she was now living with my Dad and I full-time. The tables had turned almost overnight, and as expected, with Mildred as my sidekick, I continued to drink myself into abeyance.
To further entertain myself when hungover I decked out my room with a large TV, an x-box 360; which was uber modern at the time, all of the guitar hero gear, several games, amongst a large selection of DVD's and CD's. I usually used all of these entertainments as a distraction from spending any amount of time stewing in my own thoughts, it would help steer me away from the almighty shame and regret.
DVDs and time spent watching movies in quiet solitude began to pile up, I was beginning to recognize myself as something of a movie buff, however; looking back now, it's obvious to me that films and video games (mostly films) were used to escape my own distorted reality.
I resented life sober, and refused to wake-up any earlier after a drunk than was absolutely necessary. Mildred and I would sleep in after a "night out" until 1:00pm and sometimes as late as 4:00pm. When we would wake up, we'd often order a gross amount of greasy food and immediately turn the TV on to watch a movie. Many of the DVD's that sat on my shelf had been viewed multiple times. I liked knowing what was going to happen, and how I was going to feel when it did happen, seemed to ease the anxiety of the unknown.
Speaking of anxiety, I officially proclaim anxiety to be an absolute and irrefutable bitch...and while I recognize that it serves a vital purpose in our lives, I refuse to take back my precious statement. However; on a flamboyantly fabulous weekday in February of 2013, in came my student loan, and down came my anxiety. So yes, Economic insecurity was impaling the figurative sphincter of my daily serene self, so the elevation of the five dollar bill in my bank account brought a much appreciated calm.
After assessing the amount of money that had been deposited, I was thrust into the ravenously rich idea that the extra funds I now possessed would be best spent on a trip down south. I figured it may revitalize Mildred and I's relationship. "Mildred I'm thinking we should take a trip down to Cuba for the March break, what do you think?", "yeah, sure" she said with a glint of glee strewn across her face.
So off we went, flying in high style, eating pre-packaged food and sipping champagne on our way to the Caribbean. The sun shone into the crystal clear windows of the jet plane as we streaked across the sky, headed to peace, and paradise,
When we arrived, Mildred and I jumped onto the bus just outside the terminal and took our seats. We immediately learned how to say "May I have another beer please" in Spanish, which was fine by me. I took full advantage, and during the whole ride to the resort I continued to drink, until we finally arrived at "Cayo Santa Maria", known for its white sandy beaches, but not so much for its food.
We soon found out that the rumours about the disgusting nature of the food, proved to be entirely true. The fruit was every shade of every colour except the colour it was supposed to be, and the scrambled eggs were more like a scrambled soup. Truth be told, I didn't care...as long as there was alcohol, beaches and entertainment, I was content.
For the first couple of days I was a good boy. I'd get up early in the morning go for a run, grab breakfast, surf through the various distractions on resort, before having a couple drinks and expiring into the stars at night.
The only immediate hindrance was that during my early morning runs I'd be repeatedly harassed by some of the locals, asking me to give them my new white superstar Adidas shoes. I continued to say "no" in kind, and would be on my way. Even though they would eventually leave me alone, I couldn't help but feel unsettled and nervous about the continued harassment.
During our third night on resort I decided to let loose a bit, or maybe a lot. Mildred and I found our way into a dance club, where I was more concerned with dancing rum down my throat and into my belly, rather than doing any actual dancing.
Restless and needing to move, I decided to ask Mildred if it was okay if we began making our way back to the resort.
When we arrived Mildred decided to go to bed, she asked me to come with her, but I refused and said that I'd be going to the bar by the main entrance. She dejectedly sighed and turned to walk away, back towards our room.
Upon arrival, I grabbed a rum and Coke, and sat down beside a young lady whom I had never met before. I began chatting with her, and with each drink I drank, the more obnoxious I became. As we continued to chat I noticed out of the corner of eye that a couple of dudes to my left began noticing the venom spewing out of my lips. I wasn't outright insulting this woman, just being a passive aggressive catheter of a smelly nature.
Minutes passed and the men to my left began taunting and teasing me. I wasn't about to stick around long enough to see where this little episode might lead, so I slid my chair backwards, stood up aggressively, turned and gave both of the guys who were harassing me the middle finger. Immediately after flipping "the bird" I stepped to my right and left.
I began walking down the dark, brick path that led back to Mildred and I's room. I was swaying and staggering this way and that; at the edge of passing out where you don't give a fuck about anything other than finding a soft place to land.
It was eerily quiet; I continued to walk onward when the silence between strides was suddenly and rudely interrupted by the heavy breaths and fast paced steps of whomever was descending upon me from behind. Out of the flurry of an abrupt invasion came a fist that collided with the back of my head. More fists began exploding and collapsing on both sides of my skull, until I experienced a haymaker to the eye and another heavy blow to the top of my neck that brought me to my knees.
I didn't feel much because of the alcohol, with that being said, I was really only concerned about a punch to the nose, but that beauty of a connection never came. Out of the low level grunts and gasps that escaped my lips came a lone sentence... "Alright that's enough" I said, in a calm, matter of fact way. Within half a second of those syllables leaving my mouth came a final blow to the back of my cranium. My upper forehead hit the concrete, and I was out.
I awoke not long after, made my way to my feet... wait.... I was in my bare feet. Fuck. My shoes were taken, so was my watch, but luckily, not my passport. I looked down; my hand and forehead were covered in blood, my clothes covered in dirt, and my mind was covered in paranoia.
When I arrived back to our room, Mildred gasped. "What happened" she said. I gave her a short, straight forward answer. I then climbed into the white sheets covered in blood, and was out as soon as my eyelids shut.
The rest of the trip I was always on edge, looking around to see if my attackers were sadistically watching me to see if I got a good look at them during the attack, I didn't. So I just made my way around the resort like a ghost, with a black, swollen right eye and a mind full of "what if's".
I did my best to make the most of the rest of the trip, never drinking more than two beers at a time, however, when it was time to jump on the flight back to Freddy, I was more than relieved, and grateful that I hadn't been killed.
After March break, School days, and drinking days passed, regrets piled up, shame over wasting Mildred's time reached a head and I forced myself into a corner. "Make a decision you loser"... over and over again this sentence made its way into my thoughts.
These thoughts oozed their way into a distressing realization...I was about to graduate with a degree. The comfort of knowing where I needed to be for four years was about to vanish. I didn't want to be one of those people who stayed in Fredericton their entire lives without ever experiencing the wonders of the outside world.
The idea and the decision to move to Vancouver, British Columbia was made in an impulsive flash. It would be perfect, I'd be able to leave the wake of destructiveness and self-hatred behind. I could break-up with Mildred and run away; forcing myself to stick to the finality of the separation in order to avoid pleading with her to take me back.
I packed up all of Mildred's things and put them in two garbage bags, lugged them outside and set them beside the road and then waited for her arrival. She pulled up in an SUV and I asked her to go for a walk. We walked down towards my workplace at the Boys and Girls Club and sat on the concrete steps outside the main doorway. "I don't love you anymore" I said. A sliver of speechlessness descended upon me until she began to break down into a fit of sobs and hopelessness. Mildred never wept, the sound of her desperate cries cut to the core. I refused to give into my emotions, so I proceeded to tell her with a straightforward coldness that our relationship was a waste of her time, and that she deserved far better.
All of the emotion that welled up in me was again, pushed down, and I chose indifference and apathy as a replacement as we drug our way back to her SUV despondently. Seconds turned into minutes as Mildred continued to weep, tears streamed down her face. I wanted to comfort her, to hold her in my arms, to tell her everything was going to be okay and that I'd be there for her, love her, wipe away her tears, but I couldn't be, I wasn't even there for myself. I knew it was over, I needed to hold onto whatever strength was left in me, and then maybe I could do this one last good thing with her best interest at heart. I could get rid of myself from her life; let her find someone who truly cared and appreciated her the way she deserved to be appreciated. Like the angel that she is....
She loaded up her vehicle and left. I walked back to those concrete steps, sat down and cried. How could I be so cold and dismissive? Tears dripped onto the dried, cracked pavement, it was then and there that I reaffirmed the commitment I made with myself. That once and for all, I'd rid my manipulation, my sickness and my influence from her life; which meant not giving into the need to contact her out of loneliness and grief. I told myself that she was now dead to me, and that the luxury of her loving touch was something I no longer deserved, and hadn't deserved for a long, long time.