Excerpt from my book

Today's blog is an unedited excerpt from my book coming out next year... I want to say March but don't hold me to it as I don't yet have the rewrites. I am posting this because tomorrow I have 23 years sober and this particular story is loosely based on my experiences. No blog tomorrow I have a meeting.

Stash

My name's Joesph, but around school and everything.... let's just say.... my real friends call me Stash. That's because I always have a little something stashed somewhere in order to amplify the fun. If the flasks and bottles in my room are empty, well I always have a joint stored somewhere on my person. I enjoy drinking a lot more then pot. They say coke is great but I never tried it. It's not that I'm a prude. I'm just practical.... it's way outta my price range. Also I have this really weird fear of anything going up my nose. So yeah, there's that.

I take a lot of shit about my drinking. A LOT of shit. My grades are fine... at least fine for me. I win lots of competitions at school for art too, so I don't really see what everybody's bitching about. Apparently I have it under control. If I can drink and still win then as far as I'm concerned the world just wanted to bitch and I was in the way!

I even had a friend (well I thought she was my friend) tell me once that I have a drinking problem because I passed out in class and threw-up on a janitor. That really pissed me off! I have been drinking since I was 10. If I haven't had any issues and even my parents don't know then as far as I'm concerned the world may have a problem with my drinking but I don't have a drinking problem. If I was like a real drunk, I'd be in an alley somewhere, now wouldn't I?

So I'm on my way home from school and I am psyched! There should be a letter in the mail for me today! We're talking scholarship fund! We're talking France! We're talking Parson's in Paris! We're talking studying at the Louvre! Damn straight I am all over that!

So I take the last swallow from my mini-flask (well hidden on school grounds in the little boy's room inside the toilet tank) and I make my way home. I am walking in the door now and riffling through the mail! Here it is. Here it is! A letter from the Art Academy in France! My fingers shake as I try to open it. Guess I am nervous. I tear it open. I am shaking my head now as I read that I have been passed over for the scholarship, but I can still be enrolled if I apply by March of next year. WTF? That ain't even real.

I am severely pissed now! They owe me that damn scholarship. They OWE me. I head into my room thinking how shitty life really is, how even when you bust your ass... it just doesn't count for anything. But it's cool. I got it covered, I'll just ask my Dad to pay it.

I reach under my bed for my hidden bottle of whiskey but it's gone. Did I drink it? I don't have the greatest memory of what I do when I'm drinking. Maybe I finished it and threw it away.

It's no trouble though. I'll just find another. Rum sounds good so I go the bathroom and lock the door. I remove the toilet tank lid and shake my head. The rum's not there either. Did I finish that one too? Damn! That was expensive rum, a gift from a friend.

I open the medicine cabinet and look for the cough syrup bottle that I poured the cough syrup out of and topped with vodka. It's gone and I start to panic. Did my kid brother get into it? He's little still. If Mom gave him that it could kill him maybe. Shit!

I am shaking now and frantic. But I'll be okay. I have to think and I can't think. I'll take a little something to calm down and then I'll go check on my brother. I walk into my room and I reach for the old hip-hop boom box that my grandfather bought me for my birthday last year before he kicked the bucket. I push the cassette open and reach in... my fingers come up empty. No joint? I reach around to the back and take the whole damn thing apart. It'll be cool. I took all the guts and wires out after he gave it to me so I could hide pot in there. I am shaking my head in disbelief. I look inside and it's empty. I know I didn't smoke a whole half ounce of weed. Where the hell did it go?

My mother walks in and sees me on the floor of my room with all of the parts of the radio, the screws splied everywhere and she asks, “Looking for something?”

A chill just runs down my spine because I don't know how to explain what I am doing and I'll probably be in trouble. My grandfather who gave this radio to me was her dad and they were close. I am angry though too. Not just at her... but where's all my stuff gone? I snap, “Rude much? You know how to knock?”

She smiles and says, “Oh sweetie, this is my house. I don't have to knock. So you wanna explain what you're doing on the floor?”

'A science project...” I begin but her laugh cuts me off. I am livid when I hear her speak these words, “Oh about that. The parts of your science project that I couldn't pour down the sink... I flushed down the toilet.” My head is reeling. How did she even know? I don't know if I am saying it out loud or if it's just the look on my face but she says, “I was your age once. Why don't you come out for dinner?”

By the tone of her voice dinner is not optional tonight. I am scared how she's going to react but I am pissed off too. I mean what the hell am I supposed to do for the evening? I sit across from her and my dad and I see Johnny isn't at the table, “Where's the kid?” I ask and they tell me he's on a play date as Mom puts down my chicken and rice... fresh from the caterer's.

“Special occasion?” I ask and Mom just looks at dad. Dad takes a bite and tells me to eat up because we have a guy thing tonight. If we did I forgot. I don't remember any of his bands playing anywhere tonight so I ask nervously, “Uh what's that? A band in town?”

He puts his fork down and just looks at me, “Heard you didn't get the scholarship. That's tough luck. What are your plans after school then?”

How did he know that? I hadn't said anything. But I just nod because his brow is like a pretzel-shape and that usually means trouble. I guess mom told him. I'll just play it cool. I'll stay on topic and maybe he'll let it slide.

“I was hoping you guys would pay the tuition. I'll be accepted if...” He interrupts me, “Now why would we want to do that?” I am speechless for a moment. But I find my voice, “Whatdya mean why? You paid Jimmy's tuition. This is the Louvre....every artist's dream.”

“Well you just keep dreamin' then because if you get drunk and disorderly and thrown into jail I won't be able to get you out. So if you want to go... you can pay your own way.” my dad says, and he says it like he's ordering coffee or something. As if it's nothing! How can he be so damn casual? I am tasting rage and I jump up from the table and yell, “Art is important! So what if I'm not a damn accountant like you and Jimmy! Art is...” but he slams his hands down on the table so hard that he spills the bowl of rice.

“Young man, I don't think you realize how much trouble you're in. Do you have any idea how many bottles and drug paraphernalia your mother found in this house today? Yet you avoid that conversation easily. You're in trouble all the time did you really think we didn't notice the calls from the school or you coming in smashed every night?” he yells in my face. I have never seen him this angry, I start to argue but again I am cut off. This time by my mother, she says shaky, “Joesph do you realize that twice in the last month the cops brought you home? Or that three times this week you came in vomiting all the way to your bedroom and were too drunk to clean it up. Or even notice that you did it for that matter?” I don't know how to respond because I don't remember stuff when I'm drinking and I am shocked. I didn't think they knew. I am staring at my plate, at the mess on the table, at the floor. I am doing whatever it takes not to look at them. If I look at them... it'll be real.

My father is herding me into the car now but I am feeling really sick. I need a drink to clear my head now. I can't think straight. I am too freaked out. Before I know what is going on we are pulling up in front of a church... a Lutheran church. That's weird too, because we're Methodists.

I follow my dad into a small room beside the chapel and I sit down. Thirty or so people are milling around drinking coffee, laughing, cussing. I am really confused now and I check my back pocket for a joint. No such luck. I could head to the john if there was one, but I guess I must've smoked it during lunch break.

A bell rings and some dude who's about a thousand years old tells us all to come to order and asks someone to read, “The Promises” and it's really weird because they are all reading these papers. But they aren't talking about God. What kind of church doesn't talk about God as soon as they open? Then it hits me! I at a friggin AA meeting. I am so pissed. I get up to leave and my father grabs my shoulder and sits me down. I wiggle away and walk out but he follows me.

“I'm not going to a damn AA meeting!” I am yelling at my father in a church parking lot, “people who have a few too many do stupid things! That's normal! I don't have a problem!”

“Really?” my Dad says, “Is it normal to lose a scholarship? You know Joey, the cops brought you home last night... again. This time you had passed out in a dumpster. Do all your friends pass out in dumpsters?”

So I follow him back in. Not because I have a problem, but because my memory sucks and I can't argue where I was. I can't argue because, I basically can't remember.

I sit down and half-listen to it. I don't care what they say because they're all drunks. I look around and see all kinds of people. Some of them look rich even. One guy who looks like a doctor says something that catches my ear, “I didn't get in trouble every time I drank but every time I got in trouble there was damn sure drinking involved.” I get what he's saying. I've been there. We've all been there.

So today I'm at school after a long talk with my dad and a meeting where I learned a lot. I guess those “drunks” were just regular people just like me who had problems, but hey that's their problem. I have it all sorted out. I talked my dad into paying my tuition by promising him I'll just stay out of trouble. He's alright my dad. He is nuts though to worry so much about me when he knows that I don't have a problem. Now let's see what party favors I can find in my locker to celebrate. I reach up under the metal lip at the top of the locker and... just as I thought. A nice, fat joint!

It's not even been an hour since then, since I felt the principal's hand on my shoulder and knew I was busted.. I sit and watch my dad through the office window as he talks to the principal and when I see him walking towards me I about half-smile. My smile doesn't stay long as he informs me that I am expelled and can't graduate. I am livid. That means I won't be able to go to college and I am almost in tears, but it's what he says next that feels like the final nail in the coffin.

“In order to keep Mr. Davis from having you thrown in jail for trafficking drugs through his school, I've agreed to sign you up for rehab. I guess your friends are going to wonder where you went. That's 30 days in the next town, on a farm acres away from anything. Oh did I mention Joey that they have drug tests every three days and if you can't complete the program... well then Mr. Davis is free to press charges? Well by the look on your face I guess I didn't”

I am so pissed at that, that I can't even be pissed any more if you know what I mean. If I'd have just stopped everything like I promised my dad... I've just lost everything over partying! Son of a bitch! I am sick with anger and then it hits me. I think I my drinking is starting to become a problem.

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