Despair

The bottle splashed into shards of sorrow and regret as Strings tore for the bus with the liquor store's clerk close in tow. Our ship peeled out with his feet still dangling from the door.

"God dammit!" Strings sobbed, falling to the floor panting, pounding his fist into the ground. "I just wanted it so bad," he lamented, explaining how that little bottle of Tequila entrance him. Struck by a sense of confidence, he got the Captain's permission and began his mission.

"God why did I have to drop it?" he repeated grievously, torturing himself with shame. Every pair of headlights filled me with a sense of panic as we barreled down the highway towards the woods. Emotions only settled when we finally dropped anchor deep in no where. The dirt road was a bitch to back out of and the dogs kept getting into corpses left by dirty hunters but it was a good spot. We were safe there. We believed our problems to be over.

I remember nothing beyond that point. Supposedly some xanax entered the mix. When I first heard about this I got angry that nobody shared. That's xanax for you. The next morning, the native homebum we picked up had mysteriously disappeared without a trace. Perhaps he called upon some ancient forest wisdom to escape our debauchery. Or perhaps he got drunk and wandered off. Supposedly he had pissed on the bus. I remember Gravity taking a piss on the bus but didn't realize the theme ran common last night.

The Captain remained asleep while his wife and two of our more remorseful crew (including Gravity) discussed a ban on drinking. Meanwhile I received a text from Portland Girl. The first in days. She complimented the photos I sent her and I told her I'd keep sending them but wanted to hear how she was doing.

"My life isn't as interesting though," she replied.

"So tell me boring stuff."

I joined the morning beer and discussion while I awaited her response.

"I cheated on my boyfriend."

I knew she would and said as much. My nightmare the day earlier turned out to be precognition. I remember helplessly witnessing her making out with a boy. I remember the happiness and attraction she felt for him. The expression in her eyes, an expression she never dared give me. She refused me on the grounds she had a boyfriend then ended up cheating on him anyways. The veil dropped. The truth revealed itself. My interest in her was single sided. The feeling was like funeral bells whaling black sadness with every heartbeat. Every beat that I once beat for her now bleeted as hopelessly as a bird trapped in a telephone wire. My body flooded with painful disappointment as thickly as if the oceans had all leapt to steam and the whole world was one fire.

 As ably as I could I gathered my belongings together. I was leaving the bus, I decided. Once my belongings were organized, I wandered aimlessly into the woods. Breath occurred rebelliously as the fire faded to a stomach of rocks and resignation curdled from the realization that hope is a cruel luxury for the naive, and whatever reigns supreme in the universe is a savage, cheating bastard by nature. I grew cynical. I grew finished. I'd had enough of this. Enough repeats of the same tragedy, the same trickery, the same worthless longing for the untouchable, and strive for the unquenchable. All I wanted was what nearly everybody else already had. But I couldn't have it. I never got to have it. Ever. My heart's temperature dropped several degrees and my mind grappled hold of a special, resolute wisdom. I was finished splashing in uncertainty, making excuses and complaints, waffling my way through life. I returned to camp as cold and decisive as the knife in my belt just in time to greet a drama that would tear our crew in half. As I watched crew members depart over the explosive argument between the Captain and his wife, and looked at who was left, I realized they needed me now. So I chose to stay, at least for a minute longer.