Two Worlds Distanced

Chapter 94

EZRA

I repeatedly bang my head on the steering wheel until I feel like it's enough for just leaving Rachel in a freaking Target parking lot. It's a painful thing to do but not as painful as my heartache and headache that I know I will have in a minute. I lift my head, look around if anyone sees me while pumping gas in their cars, anyone probably doesn't give a fuck. They are probably too busy talking to the person next to them and talking the fucking holidays.

As I got out of my car, I realized my gas tank was almost done. I grab my wallet, and make my way to the gas station to grab something to eat and bottle because I haven't eaten anything today and need to drown all of my guilt away. I walk inside as I get a good whiff of the greasy, cold pizza along different flavors of slushies in the back, "Welcome to Lenny's," someone greets me, I turn around and it's some teenager whose too busy on her phone to acknowledge so I'm not going to waste my time to do the same. I got plans.

Plan one, drink. Plan two, drink. And plan three pass out and try not to get pulled over.

I walk towards the alcohol aisle to find a decent twelve or twelve four pack of whiskey but from the look of the cheap and shitty piss looking alcohol they have, they probably don't own a good bottle of it. As I'm about to leave this shitty and filthy place,

As I'm about to leave this shitty gross filth, I come across the candy aisle and grab a bag of peanut M&M's, and smile at the reminding Rachel telling me what every color represents; I grab two or three of them to share with her with her favorite candy even though I only eat a simple chocolate bar, particularly the cookies & cream bar.

...

I drove a little longer before coming across an around the clock corner bar. I'm praying to fucking lord that I can finally get some decent whiskey. Whiskey is like blood to me, I need it to live. But Rachel is my whiskey. I sleep, make love and adore that whiskey. As parking in front of the crowded front with bikers with bandannas on their heads and tattoos anywhere are smoking cigarettes. But hating going to bars where all you smell is smoke and booze.

I should talk, all I have been since Skylar's passing is getting drunk or high but drinking filled all of my broken open wounds, so I better start up again, "Bartender?".

A young man who looks like he just got out of high school, "Yes sir? What can I get for you?" he politely asks as wiping a glass with one of those black cloth napkins you would find at a fancy restaurant, "Three shots of your best whiskey, please? Neat," I tell him and he nods okay. My phone flashed to show two text messages, and surprisingly a voicemail from Rachel.

[Text messages]

Rachel: I'm so deeply sorry for what I said about Skylar. I didn't mean to say that. Please forgive me.

I annoyedly rolled my eyes as I saw the next message from Alex. Of course I knew she would be calling him or telling him of the horrible and gut raunting thing I did.

Alex: How could you do such a thing to Rachel? Leaving her like that? In the fucking cold because she made a mistake when she clearly forgave you for your assy ass mistake.

I stick out a middle finger at the phone but particularly at his snobby but clearly not wrong again. I think he thinks he's never wrong like my mother acted like there was nothing wrong with telling me that her boyfriend has a son around my age. The boyfriend word makes me vomit in my mouth, not pointing out the worst word is fiance because that means new father. New family.

I swallow the last sip of my drink, then ask the bartender for two more rounds. I know this isn't helping but swallowing the drink is swallowing the hurt away, "There you go, sir. Is there anything else I can get for you?" he wonders as sliding my bill in front of me; I don't answer, take out my card, and sign the bill, "No I'm fine. Here," I give him back the signed check. I see my phone light up, it's voicemail that was from minutes ago. I don't pay attention to where it's from.

[Voicemail]

"Ezra?"

Once realizing it's Rachel, I shake my head and throw my fist onto the bar table to hard that one of the empty glasses falls over and breaks, "Fuck," I mumble. The bartender gives me a side-eye from the across number, walks over as writing something down and hands it over. I glance at the paper that says it's charging me six bucks for the broken; I put the voicemail on hold so I can give the kid a ten dollar bill and leave this place.

As I step down, I slightly trip on the barstool leg from my lack of buzz feeling body and blurry vision but still hearing a small chuckle behind me. I stare at the kid and he immediately stops. Yeah, that's what I fucking thought kid, I think to myself as heading towards the door when a bachelorette party comes in with a brunteete girl wearing a princess crown with feathers on it and a sashe saying 'Bride to be'. I look at them being all happy and giggling at my appearance. I'm more than my tattoos and clothing choices which are only wearing three colors, white, gray, and, obsessively one too many black clothing; but it doesn't matter to the girl who smells like she poured a whole cheap perfume bottle from Victoria's secret.

"Hi handsome," she greets me when constantly running her hand down my arm, and I back away with my hands up in defense, "Go away. Please," I tell her, she politely smiles at me then walks back to her bachelorette party.

...

I have been driving for the past hour and I have already pulled three different times at three different places, at a diner, the side of the road and at a gas station that luckily a nice lady at the gas station that smell like maple syrup and honey offered a bottle water and some aspirin to me. I took it from her and continue throwing up before heading back to my car so I don't puke all over my nice ass car; I got it for my sixteen birthday, I remember it like it was yesterday that my mom told me she saved all of her tips from working at the diner seven days a week and only getting paid a shitty amount.

She worked at the same diner from the age sixteen up to the time she was pregnant with Skylar. I would have the bus driver drop me off there from school to do my homework there and help out like cleaning the floors and getting free vanilla milkshakes before leaving the place. I would drink the milkshakes for her because she's lactose intolerant and couldn't handle the smell of milk due to her strange pregnancy hormones. As I drive around, and make my way back to the apartment, hoping Rachel doesn't hate my gut but if she does, I don't blame her because I do too at this point. I come across a building that I'm assuming is a boxing gym;maybe I knock off some steam before I blow the steam at Rachel... again.

I walk inside, luckily I always keep a change of clothing just in case I wanna workout or whatever the situation is; look around, already I can smell the amount of old dirty socks and sweat throughout the area especially by the door that I'm still standing like a dork, "Excuse me sir? Do you need something?" the muscular woman asks me behind the front desk. I don't answer back, I just stand there feeling like my feet are glued on the black and, white tile floor. The tile floor you would see in an old fashioned bathroom.