Full Circle
The tiny Irish pub near Chris’ home has long been a comfortable refuge; he always came alone and never brought personal troubles. The occasional bad day was securely left hanging on the opposite side of the door beneath the magnificent oak trees which line this peaceful Mid-City street. An Eden, of sorts; a place for friendship, enlightenment and stimulating conversation for Chris.
Everyone had noticed that, over the past few months, Chris’ usual talkative and outgoing demeanor had somehow, slowly ebbed. He’d been hanging out more than usual. He did so in order to avoid staring at the four walls in his tiny cottage room up the block. He’d stumbled into a den of self pity of late; on some days he hid it better than others.
“...Chris? You sure you should have another one, sweetheart?”
Marie is the bartender at a small mid city pub and a close friend to Chris’. Then again, most of the staff and several patrons have adopted him as family. They’ve taken him in for meals over the holidays, they’ve shown unconditional love, they‘ve accepted him as one of their own.
“...Chris?? Chris!!” "...HEY!"
“WHAT?” Chris snapped.
“You sure you want another shot baby?” Marie pressed.
“You gonna cut me off? Hell fucking yes I’m havin’ another,” Chris slurred.
Marie poured another shot of Tullamore Dew. She knew that Chris only lived two short blocks away, but she’s particularly concerned tonight because he usually doesn’t drink like this and this is a particularly dangerous neighborhood at night.
It’s typically three drinks and done for Chris. Sometimes four if he’s particularly engaged in conversation.
“...Hey, this one’s on me, honey,” Marie offered with a concerned smile.
Marie is an attractive young woman. Although she’s 12-years younger than Chris, she’d already gone through significant personal setbacks in life and love, just like Chris.
Marie dropped out of college a few years previous but recently enrolled part-time to finish her degree at Delgado Community College. She truly appreciated Chris’ friendship, as he did hers.
She drew upon his life experience and learned as much as she could from it. He drew upon her determination, energy, unspoiled hope and faith in people. Her outlook on people mirrored that which he felt before life’s hard knocks had jaded him. Theirs was a friendship of balance and it was strong. Stronger than any he'd ever known.
Chris lit another cigarette; as the smoke swirled above his head, the past rushed through his mind like a freight train, as it’s done so in vignettes for some time now.
The scene unfolds a couple of years previous, in Virginia, with his wife. The exact moment where Chris traces the beginning of the end. Outwardly, all seemed to be wonderful. He had it all, but it wasn’t a path that he wanted. It was a path to unfulfillment, he thought.
Chris wanted simple but, his wife, success and income seemed to dictate another course. A course for which most would have just settled and kept quiet about. A status quo façade, setting the stage for a life of denial, he thought. Day in and day out…keep quiet, oh, and look happy. A life in which so many choose to live, for appearances sake. Full of spoils, dictated by avarice. He hated it.
Chris and Angela had been married for 10 years. They moved from a small house that Chris felt was a home. It was quite comfortable and nowhere above their means, even though they COULD afford to live above those means. It was a home where memories were made. A little weekend sweat equity, coupled with a Home Depot card, transformed a small cottage into a sentimental landmark. A testament to a life well lived.
Chris stared at the colossal ceiling in the monstrous new house. Deep in thought, he wondered, “...why in hell did I let her convince me to build this?” Five times the size of their 'home,' he couldn’t fathom making such a huge space as cozy as the cottage.
“...Do you like this color? Chris??” Angela persisted. "...Chris?"
“Yeah, I suppose so,” Chris replied through a forced smile. “...You always pick great colors, you’re the decorator,” he dismissed.
If ever there were a time for a stunt double, this was the moment. Oh, if wishing only made it true, he sighed to himself.
Angela is beautiful; the girl next door is how most describe her. Not the cover of Vogue but a woman who exudes natural beauty. She wore very little makeup and always appeared well put together –inside and out.
Her humble upbringing in a rural setting fostered a down to earth demeanor. But, something changed along the way. Something that Chris could never quite understand.
Being the middle child, and enduring a childhood with a verbally abusive dad, eventually caught up with Angela.
She grew up with simple surroundings from which she couldn’t wait to escape. After all, the big city beckoned. Why wouldn’t it? She hated the rural backdrop of her home as a young lady, so much so that she tried any and every way to whitewash it.
When she returned for visits, Angela seemed like an outsider to her family and friends. She’d done a good job at creating a persona that was anything BUT that which reflected her roots, but, she secretly struggled with a past which haunted her.
She and Chris met 16 years ago while he was an assignment reporter for a local TV station. He’d been covering a general interest story on Christmas eve at a local shopping center. A fluff piece, stocked with inane questions that assignment editors love to beat into the ground on a slow news day:
“...So, why did you wait 'til the last minute to shop? Are ya’ finding any good deals?”
Bullshit! Chris thought. But, you have to work your way to the top, somehow.
Chris and his camera man were packing up as Angela passed through the exit when the camera man accidentally swung a boom mic around and…BAM! All of Angela’s perfectly balanced gift boxes tumbled to the ground.
Chris immediately rushed to Angela’s aid; he even offered to take some off her hands. Helping her to the car, he apologized profusely. Angela smiled and assured that it was OK. Her smile immediately captured Chris’ attention. Radiant, genuine, he thought.
Chris found something in Angela that he couldn’t explain; she felt the same. It was love at first sight, actually, if you believe in that sort of thing. They dated exclusively for five years before getting married.
“Chris? Chris!” Jolted from his train of thought, Chris stared at what he thought was the Sistine Chapel ceiling. “...Look, what’s wrong?” Angela pried.
“...You haven’t been excited about this house from day one.”
“Well, I think it’s too big, Angie, but I’m OK with it. I’m thinking a lot about work right now, it’s real busy, that’s all. No worries,” Chris assured.
The truth of the matter was that Chris had grown weary of living above his comfort zone; living a lifestyle that he’d never wanted. And, now, he was standing in the middle of a house that he viewed as more of a luxury jail cell than a status symbol.
The echoes of Angela’s artsy girlfriends rang from the other room as they pined over the beautiful crown molding and the 30 foot ceilings. They gushed at how magnificent the imported hardwood floors appeared and how they wished for the same in their homes. Chris’ mind drifted far from this scene; equally searching for peace while drowning out the moment.
“Chris???” Chris!!
Marie tried her best to roust Chris from an obvious bout of being over served.
“...Hey, darling! Let me get someone to walk you home, baby, OK?”
“Nah,” Chris slurred, “Fuck that!' I can make it.”
“...Well, you better call me when you get home, then,” Marie insisted.
It was a dark and rainy walk home for Chris on this particular evening.
In New Orleans, when the rains come, it’s as though the very heavens have fully opened, impossible to be sealed.
Rain can portray New Orleans as an especially lonely city, especially at night. The bustling, late night crowds on Bourbon Street take any nearby refuge, a.k.a. the bar. The usual raucous streets become hauntingly quiet when the rains come. It's almost vengeful.
Mid City is especially serene. It’s one of many neighborhoods that contribute to an eclectic feel for which New Orleans is known. Each neighborhood has its own personality; further adding to its alluring intrigue.
As Chris denoted, there's the French Quarter, the People's Republic Of Uptown and the land of Mid City, drawing geopolitical designation to each neighborhood in the Metro.
Unfortunately, Mid City can be quite dangerous at night. This part of the city was hit particularly hard with flood waters after Katrina. Dotted with numerous condemned and collapsing houses, there are entire blocks which remain abandoned. Not the setting for a stumbling drunk transplant from Virginia to be aimlessly wandering.
Chris thought about the past as he stumbled through those drenched streets, wondering how in hell it had come to this. He had it all. A beautiful wife, beautiful cars, a gorgeous house; he’d worked his way from the bottom to the top as the manager of a prominent TV news station back home. He walked away from the job to go back to doing what he loved…being in the field. And, he did so for much less money.
Being the director, Chris reasoned, became an increasingly dirty and unethical lot in life; typical in his line of business.
Surely doing something noble like going back to his roots would pay off. Not as quickly as he’d hoped. This chapter of life had been punctuated with trying circumstances that he’d never expected.
His mother was the only remaining relative to speak of and, compounding his worries, Chris watched as she slowly died of cancer. She was a kind soul, by all accounts, and, in selfish, fleeting thoughts, Chris wondered, “Why her?” She didn’t deserve to die this way. His faith had been tested. Fully.
Chris’ mom wasn’t scared of death; she was primarily worried about everything that was going on in Chris' life. She simply needed to KNOW that he was alright with work, with romance, his well being. A typical mother’s concern.
As the final images of his mother flashed through an already defeated mind, his heart sank. In her final days, Chris lied to her in order to provide comfort.
Visiting her, he always wore his Monday Night Football game face, especially as her health visibly deteriorated; He tried his best to convince her that everything was wonderful. That he and his girlfriend, Erin, were okay since he’d separated from Angela.
It was true love, he assured, never telling his mom how the rebound relationship had virtually collapsed and how he fell to some uncharacteristic behavior in the process.
Erin had even joined him on the last visit; she, also, wore the same game face so as not to let on as to the troubles that she and Chris had long been experiencing.
Work was great, everything was going to finally be OK, he convinced his mom. Chris felt that she needed to die in peace rather than be burdened with needless worry in the process. A white lie, but a lie that he, and the doctors, felt necessary.
After separating, not long after moving to New Orleans, Chris and Angela’s marriage came to an end. The final chapter and page in, what was once, a promising, loving life together. The final footnote to their story was notarized and signed by both, along with the lawyers and a parish judge.
“...Irreconcilable differences. Hah!” He thought. She’d been cheating on him. He was no angel either. He spent long and late hours elsewhere as well towards the end.
Quite simply, this was a couple who began their journey with such promise and love who slowly drifted apart. A long goodbye of sorts.
Upon returning to his roots as a field reporter, Chris’ assent moved at a staggeringly slow pace at best. He lived in the back of a repair shop in a rented cottage that he'd previously used for storage. A tiny space that he fashioned a home as best he could. He initially did so to hide and regroup.
As the rain unrelentingly poured from the sky, Chris sat on a lonely, dark sidewalk tonight; his mind drifted momentarily to a time where he last remembered being happy.
“...Hey, I gotta introduce you to one of the coolest fuckin’ chicks I know, Chris…she’s like one of the guys, only she’s a girl!” Scott exclaimed. "...she's got big boobs," Scott joked.
Chris’ friend, Scott, was talking about a bartender friend of his.
They sat in a suburban chain restaurant & bar where Scott’s friend, Erin, worked.
Scott was one of those guys that everyone knows. He’s the happy go lucky, care free, life of the party. He’s never met a stranger and knows how to talk some serious shit. Even if he couldn’t back it up, you still loved him because…well, because he’s Scott! You gotta love Scott.
“...Hey, Erin, this is Chris, he’s a buddy of mine.”
“Nice to meetcha Chris,” Erin greeted with a beaming smile and friendly eyes.
“Hey, when you gettin’ off work?” Scott asked.
“Bout’ thirty minutes,” Erin replied.
“Cool, you gonna hang out and drink a while?”
“I think so,” Erin replied with a shrug.
Erin, Scott and Chris drank and laughed deep into the night, mainly at Scott. He was, after all, unintentional comic relief. One of those guys who’s funny but doesn’t realize it. He’s just being himself.
Chris’ mind wandered. He was having such a good time, the first time in a while, even though he knew that Angela was sitting at home. He felt guilty. Angela waited and wondered why Chris had been hanging out so late with Scott, and doing it so often lately. It wasn’t like him.
Angela had always felt a tad bit leery of Scott’s influence over Chris anyway.
Chris shook it off, reasoning that he wasn’t doing anything bad at all.
He had been, reluctantly, accepting of the fact that he and Angela wanted different things, even if Angela didn‘t realize it. Plus, he hated staying in the house that had become a symbol of everything he hated. He wished for the old 1,200 square foot home and a time when things were much simpler. End of story; everyone lives happily ever after. Right?
So, he unrepentantly continued to enjoy the company and drinks with Scott and Erin. It was well deserved fun indeed, he thought.
In a short period of time Erin became someone in which Chris could confide; someone who understood him. Finally, Chris thought, someone who enjoyed simple.
Erin wasn’t Angela and Chris felt rather guilty for enjoying her company more than Angela’s. Erin was one of the damn guys and it was nice. She went to a bar to drink, not to read fashion magazines. She enjoys good conversation and she’s quite personable and outgoing. Angela was outgoing, but only with those with whom she felt comfortable. Erin could adapt and talk with anyone.
Erin enjoys a good museum and she has class, but she also felt comfortable wading in the lake, unfazed about getting her clothes wet. Walking in the rain was just fine with Erin, too. Bad hair day?? Put a cap on bitch. That was Erin’s way of thinking. Wine and cheese parties were fine with Erin, but not a way of life.
Erin is a beautiful young woman with radiant reddish brown hair and a smile that would stop you in your tracks.
Her eyes are bright blue and she emanates a presence that commands attention, unassumingly, though.
She’s got girly-girl traits but can also be a tom-boy when she wants to be. She speaks her mind and never feels the need to sugar coat words. Erin is extremely practical and full of common sense. She's a realist. Chris loved that, among many things.
Working her way through college, Erin bartended and worked as an office manager until she could complete her business degree and someday put her education to good use to run a bar of her own.
Yes, indeed, Erin is a hard worker. Her determination is as big as her dreams and her faith in people was even stronger than it should have been in many cases, given her life experience.
Erin had just emerged from an abusive relationship, something that Chris couldn’t understand. He wondered how anyone could behave in the manner in which her ex did, let alone to a wonderful person like Erin. She had some troubling times in her childhood with an abusive mother who was known to self medicate with pills and alcohol, just like Chris‘father did with the latter.
Her mother died when she was young. So, Erin unexpectedly faced the daunting challenge of raising two siblings, alone.
Chris had a similar childhood with his father, who also abused and overused alcohol. As a result, Chris’ father, Avery, died when Chris was twenty years old.
Maybe this was another reason Chris enjoyed Erin’s company. They had something dark and ominous in common. They’d both lost someone they loved…too soon and, for foolish, self destructive reasons. They both had a marriage that “didn’t take” as the adage goes.
Chris spent a lot of time with Erin and soon realized that he had feelings for her, beyond friendly drinking buddies. Erin also began to feel the same about Chris; all the while, Angela continued her comfortable, fashionable life, in denial about everything as Erin and Chris, unwittingly, were falling in love.
Chris was in a spot where he loved someone while falling in love with another. How the hell do you fall in love when you‘re married?? Chris wondered. Angela had faults, but he loved her. He realized that they were complete opposites and that there was someone else out there with whom he connected emotionally.
Erin soon began working in her spare time, helping Chris with his freelance news service. They made a good team; it was nice to spend so much time together. However, Angela grew increasingly suspicious.
Things were not working out well with Chris’ new career path, a move was needed, he decided. The income decrease had made it tougher and tougher to keep the house. A move must be made. Wait! I can’t leave Erin behind, he reasoned.
She’s a part of his work and was obviously becoming an important person in his life. She must come, too! Chris reasoned.
The thunder crashed as Chris pulled himself up from the puddle that had formed on the flooding Mid City sidewalk; he continued the stumble back to his lonely room, which seemed so far away from his recent world of luxury that he’d known. His old master bathroom was bigger than his room at the cottage.
Even with the opulence of the palace that he so despised, Virginia was a comfort zone, his childhood home that now seemed so far away.
After the divorce he still held love for Angela, but not the kind of love that they had once known. He felt some animosity toward her and she for him but, after it was over, they both concluded that calling it quits was for the best.
They’d both made mistakes and should have pulled the trigger much sooner. Indecisiveness, it should be named the 8th deadly sin, Chris thought.
Through Chris' setbacks; he desperately continued to rebuild a career that he loved so much. He sacrificed the spoils that his previous job afforded because he needed to do the right thing, or so he felt. He did so to maintain integrity, while slowly losing it in other areas of his life.
How in hell, he wondered, can someone make sacrifices for a noble cause and have to struggle so damn much in the process? Chris selfishly scoffed. He felt alone in a big and uncertain world now.
The pressures of the career, a failing relationship and an increasing dependence on an abundance of available alcohol affected him in ways that drove him in one direction while driving Erin to another man.
He’d suspected for longer than he let on. He‘d been given the same lines by Angela and gave them right back in the past. Body language and nuances don’t lie, Chris resolved. Erin finally told him the truth two days ago. It’s not a relationship, she assured.
“...It’s a time for me to find myself for a while, Chris,” she explained over lunch at their favorite Mexican restaurant.
Absolution, he thought. What else is left? Chris searched his mind.
Perhaps it was, indeed, something Erin needed, given what she and Chris had become. He’d become a burden and abusive to those around him. Angry at the world, looking to lay blame anywhere but on himself. She had done the same.
As Chris approached the gate surrounding the shop, a crash of thunder, again, pummeled his head to the past. He mustered all the strength in his body to pull himself from the ground, reaching, one hand above the other; he finally slipped, slowly downward, losing his grip on the rain soaked wrought iron gate.
“...I love you Chris, I really do, but I have to do this right now.” Erin pleaded, with tears in her eyes.
“...Look, Erin, I know that I became someone different, but you did TOO, and you know it,” Chris pleaded
“...Yeah, because of you,” Erin interrupted.
“Goddamn it, Erin, you were sweet one minute and a total bitch the next, usually over nothing…just out of the blue.”
“Yeah, Chris? Sometimes, as I recall, it was because of you, too. Erin barked back.
"Do you remember how fucking violent this became?” Chris yelled, desperately trying to make his case.
“REALLY, Chris? Do I REMEMBER??” Erin replied. “You introduced that element with drinking. Do you remember pushing me into the fucking wall Chris?? Or, were you blacked out? That’s why I broke your Goddamn finger, Erin screamed.”
“Yeah, you were in my face with your hands around my neck and then hitting me in the head,” Chris retorted.
Erin’s body language grew visibly animated.
“...Ooooohh, poor Chris, you’ve been such an angel, haven’t you?” Erin asked with feigned pity.
“Yeah? So have you, right??” Chris sarcastically quipped.
“Not at all,” Erin calmly replied, “...but, much better than you.” Erin blankly stared at the wall; another agreement to disagree. A patterned path where neither, typically, accepted responsibility.
“...Erin, you went freakin’ crazy and so did I. I offered to get help; I offered to get help for you…maybe too late. I even suggested that we BOTH go through counseling, together…we can both still save this.”
“YOU need to save this Chris,” Erin yelled, tears welled in her eyes.
Chris had finally lost patience for being solely blamed. "...you know what I DO? For a living? For a paycheck, Erin? I'm PAID to report but, unspoken, I'm paid to, and CAN ruin people's lives. Politicians, celebrities, you name it! My colleagues have no problem doing it. I DO. I don’t view things in black and white. Shades of gray get me in trouble, constantly. Meanwhile, my coworkers have no problem spreading scandal. Yet, they stroll through life, without compassion or conscience, BUT, let ME make a proverbial illegal left turn or California stop sign stop, and I'm in CUFFS! I'm tired of watching others get away with shit while I'm living my life to different, decent standards.," Chris exhausted.
Chris continued...
“...What the fuck do you think I’ve been trying to do, Erin?? Do you wanna live life being OK with not trying to fix the ROOT of our problems? Because I don’t!” I'm all about seeing the black, white AND gray areas. I KNOW who I am and who YOU are. I KNOW we can do this. Fuck what people think! Chris pleaded. "I'm tired of being held to different standards," Chris concluded.
“...Neither of us can do this without help Erin; not from friends…professional help! We’ve made each other even more nuts, but there’s hope. Don’t give up on this, Erin.”
“...I’m guilty of things and I know I can be a bitch and that I act batshit crazy, but this isn’t working right now, Chris,” Erin exclaimed as tears trickled down her face.
For a while, Chris had let the pressures of life drive him to be just like his dad, just like Erin’s mom. Even worse, somewhat like Erin’s ex husband.
Chris became the very person he never fathomed. In turn, Erin had also let the pressures turn her into that which she fell victim in her past.
A volatile relationship evolved between two people who somehow loved one another in a way that they’d never known. HOW could it get lost along the way? Perhaps it faded before it could fully evolve, on level ground. Could it be lost for good? Chris wondered.
Maybe Erin still had more faith than she should have. Perhaps Chris should have had more faith, but not tonight. It all felt hopeless.
“...If we’re ever to be together you’ve gotta let me do this Chris,” Erin demanded.
“Aaaah, I see, Chris interrupted. You go find yourself with your new live-in tour guide and, when you get bored with the excitement or he gets tired of your ass, there I am…waiting for you to come back. It’ll be happily ever after right? Nice plan B, Erin; I’m not gonna be your fucking backup plan.”
“We can’t see each other right now, Chris,” Erin quietly announced. “...You’ve put me through too much, I’ve put you through too much as well, and I’ve behaved in ways that I NEVER would have thought possible. You have to let me go, for now,” Erin pleaded.
Erin felt that she could save this relationship by letting go of it. She actually wanted that outcome, ultimately.
Chris saw it as the end, maybe so. Maybe it would be best for him, for both of them. She’d been lying to him for a while, he believed; why believe ANYTHING she says now? Chris rationalized.
Too many of her friends hated him for the past and too many of his friends felt the same toward her; she wanted him to move on and heal...in her eyes, some time to fix himself and be well. Erin and Chris were victims by their own hands. And, unknowingly, by well meaning outsiders.
Fuck work; to hell with everyone and God is a sadistic fairy tale character who doesn‘t answer prayers, Chris sulked.
How did it come to this?? He wondered. Crumbling under pressure is normal, at times. Many people do so; perhaps he could have done things differently. "...Why can't I just erase the past and start new," he wondered. Why hasn’t God heard one single fucking prayer? Goddamn it!
Chris’ friends assured him that God DID hear his prayers and that getting on with his life was indeed the prayer answered. Depression sometimes acts as blinders, his friends assured. Get away from this situation, they begged. Erin’s friends did the same.
Angela remains a good friend but she’s moved on to a life with someone who shares her frilly loves in life; albeit, her new beau doesn’t have the means to provide as she is accustomed.
A fucking starving artist, effeminate heterosexual? Are you kidding me? Chris scoffed. THAT'S what makes her happy now?
Erin loves Chris but is ashamed of who she, and he, became together. She needed to heal, and do so elsewhere, for now. Chris’ family is gone and his career is more than a struggle.
It seemed hopeless on all fronts for Chris. He’d convinced himself that Erin will fall in love with someone else, so there seemed nothing left in what he viewed as a pathetic life that had utterly spiraled out of control.
copyright Pontchartrain Press 2008
