Probabilities and conditions

Mark Miller 11/16/2015

The Conflict

Well, I've been coming to these meetings for over two weeks now and I've passed every time, until now that is. So here it goes. “Yea, um, my name is Greg and ah… I'm here for a gambling problem, although not much of a problem if you’re winning; right?”
I laugh just to make it look good. I know I'm in a world of shit right now, but I'm here so that counts for something.
“Welcome Greg thanks for opening up and sharing.” In unison the group of strangers clapped. Bill, our moderator tonight, has been coming to these meetings for a life time. He was an astute man, about sixtyish with balding hair on the top of his head. He wore thick round glasses like he could teach physics at some local High School. Maybe he does, I'm not sure. I’ve never been big on small talk. By the way, he's also my sponsor and support person. I promised my family I would start going again, even though she took the kids and left a month ago. I’ve been living in an empty house of foreboding. Three empty bedrooms, piles of kudzu, which seem to be replicating all on their own, and left over remnants of memories for company. Alone, alienated, and disconnected with everybody and everything around me; myself included. Recently I have been talking to myself. Oh, but not the usual way people talk about this sort of relationship. I seem to be answering him back, whoever he is. Forging and developing a relationship with someone quite alien and foreign to me. I thought I knew who he or I was. But these events which took place have me reassessing that belief. [“Mother should I build the wall.-Pink Floyd] I remembered from school a term called the looking glass- self. I never paid too much attention to it at the time or anything else for that matter. At this very minute however it seems quite relevant and yet ominous, for reasons beyond my comprehension. Huh! Who would of ever have pondered some random and insignificant event of a past, in which I barely remember, would surface like an unseen iceberg. It is strange how life anticipates events before they even happen. I think I’m becoming delusional; not sure though I have never been much for psychoanalysis.
My wife of 12 years, Jenny who I had met while I was a cook at a fancy restaurant she was a waitress and bartender. We hit off immediately. I remembered us sneaking into the big cooler when we were closing the place. We made the most passionate love I have ever had in my life. The cooler must have warmed up by 30 degrees. Ah, those were the days. It was Jenny that supported and believed in me going back to school to get a degree in business. I attended a local Community College while she worked and supported us.
I received the divorce papers the other day from some stranger ass lawyer who has no clue of family, love, or compassion. I hate him; should have knocked him out just for the fun of it. She had made my life a good life one that I could be proud of. She was all I really had. My own family disowned me when I was fifteen; I was just a little kid man. I still love her as much today as the first day we met. Her voice was the sexiest thing about her; it was crackly, sassy, and alive with vigor. I remember her long brown hair that sparkling as the sun shined down on every movement she made. Oh, I miss her. She had taught me the meaning of passion and commitment; something quite foreign to me. Now I have only remnants of distant memories, now fading more and more every day. She is, was, and will always be the stronger one out of us. I knew that then as I know that now. I would never admit it outright. I knew she knew it also.

The Meeting
A Narrators perspective
Greg was looking a little disheveled that evening. He was 33 years old, tall with a medium build, jet black hair (which he usually had slicked back nice a smooth), but today it stood up on all ends like he hadn't combed it all week. He had black circles under and around his eyes like he was punched a hundred times to each eye. He hadn't slept much in the past several weeks since his wife and kids left. And staying in such a big house all by himself didn't seem right. His son, Luke was 11 and he talked to him almost every day since. He told him you have to grow up quick and watch over Amber, his little sister of 5. Things were going to get a little worse for Greg but fate is like the present, its all around us all the time.

Angels and Demons and a Friend
As the meeting adjourned at 9:00 P.M. Greg got up slowly from his chair looking defeated and lost, like he confessed to a murder.
Bill tapped him on his shoulder. “Greg you okay? You know I'm here if you need someone to talk to. Do you need anything? You don't look well, know what I mean man. Yaw knows that's my job as your sponsor Greg.”
Greg looked down at the ground despondent and distant from the reality of the situation.
He thought to himself, “Yea if you got 20k and change everything would be just fine and dandy.” Greg did a lot of thinking and rationalizing to himself.
“I appreciate it Bill but I don't think there is anything you can do for me. I'm going to have to pay the piper on this one alone. You know at the stairway that lies on whispering well” He said with a flat affect.
Bill had no idea what that meant but it did mean something to Greg. And that worries me.
Bill lightly touched Greg on the shoulder and said, almost with a whisper; “Greg you should call your wife tell her you want to take her and the kids out to dinner. Try to get some closure; you can't go on like this, it will eat you alive.” Bill felt Greg's pain and it showed in Bill's delivery.
A tear started to form in Greg's right eye. Greg held it back. He didn't want to show his vulnerability to this truly dire situation he was facing. He didn't or couldn’t hear anymore. Truth could be extremely depressing when not on your terms. He just said what Bill wanted to hear
“You know Bill, you're right I should do that, getting some closure probably would make me feel better. Thanks, you've been a good friend and sponsor. I trust you're advise.”
Bill took his arm softly looked him in the eyes and said, “I know what you're going through I'm here for you; you got my number right?” Greg lost his number and he had no plans on calling anyway, but Greg did not want to insult the man for wanting to help him.
“Yea... I still have it you’ll be hearing from me.” It was a lie of course.
Greg had been through this sort of thing before. He just didn't know why it kept on happening, to him.
Bill left feeling like Greg was in his own way, saying his final goodbye.
“No he's too strong and has a good heart, so much to fight for.” Bill was attempting to ridden himself of that horrible sensation he felt a little earlier.

The Struggle
Greg got into his 2009 Mustang convertible, he had missed the last 4 months of payments, and the bank was in the process of repossession. He really liked it and didn't want to lose the car but all the bets he lost took precedence. Every time he made a wager he thought that this one would be the big payoff. But the payoff never came.
Greg was now on autopilot now. He was completely cut off, disassociated from the outside world. Thinking to rationalize, rationalizing so he could think. His brain was squirming like a toad.
“Maybe I should take this more seriously. Just stop and be done with it. I can do that. But what will I do for fun, excitement, for thrills?”
He drove eight miles across town running two red lights without memory of either of them. “You know what? She can't do that to me I raised them, me! I was there all day long taking care of them by myself. I had no help! I changed their diapers, I helped with school work, and teaching them, making their meals, and playing movies for them.” 'Now I’m the bad guy. And I miss them so much, real bad.' “Woo...why me?”
“You always have the option you know Greg; you know.” A sinister voice retorted.
”Yep that’s right! Just check out. Leave this fucked up world. It's my life and my choice.”
Out of nowhere Greg found himself parked under a bright neon sign, it read Hal's Bar, special $1.50 Budweiser’s tonight. He couldn't remember one detail of the drive there it didn’t occur to him neither. Yet there he was, parked right in front of the local bar of his old hang out. He rationalized it as always, he had a lot of practice at that.
“Yea! Yea! This is the place I wanted to come to all along.”
He came here when he needed time to himself, when Greg needed a break from life’s worries. Creatures of habit we are.
“Yep, nice cold one never hurt anyone and it will help me sleep tonight. Lonely is the night by Billy Squire.” he said to himself now skipping up the bar steps.
Greg sat down at the end of the bar, which was his usual place. That's where the pool table was. The bartender, whose name was Lloyd had full head of white hair. I think he was only about forty-eight or so. He had a habit of always emptying the ashtrays, even when there was nothing in them. An OCD of his I presume.
Lloyd looked at Greg with a most puzzling and peculiar expression. “Greg what the hell are you doing here? I thought you quit it man. What do they say? Thirty meetings in thirty days right? Something like that”. Lloyd remarked in earnest.
“I did quit! I mean present tense, still. And who said I didn't drink anymore? Hell, give me a whiskey and a bud friend.” Greg answered without hesitancy like he practiced this for thirty days..
“Nothing but scoundrels round here, damn scoundrels.” He looked with earnest around the old stomping ground. “But surly the person calling other people scoundrels must be more of a scoundrel than those he had originally called. Who would know another scoundrel if he himself was not.” The sinister voice in his mind remarked in coyness.
“Whatever!” Greg yelled aloud that everyone heard him, forgetting who he had been speaking to.
Lloyd opened the cooler pulled out a beer and poured a shot of hard liquor. All the while he looked upon Greg with consternation.
“Thought they were one and the same, gambling and drinking that is?” He recited this like he was telling a secret.
“Stop breaking my balls friend I had a bad day.” With a sarcasm and animosity not usual in Greg's demeanor was now becoming apparent in his voice.
His mood was changed or changing.
Greg looked around the bar and saw a few locals he knew from the neighborhood. Greg hadn't been here in a while so he had to size up the competition. There were about three sets of quarters on the pool table. Greg was mesmerized,
Quarters, shot, quarters, shot. His mind now a pinball machine
“Well, why not ah? I'm here and a game of pool isn’t breaking the law.” Greg's pondered.. Different voices were now coming to him like a swarm of bees humming around the hive.
Lloyd, from behind the bar shouted over the sound of the jukebox; (Too much time on my hands -by Foreigner.) “What’s that Greg? Hey did you see that game last night?”
Greg just nodded not hearing what Lloyd had said. Quarters, and another pool shot, quarters and another shot.
Greg was very well liked and respected around here. He was a real estate agent and sold many of the homes to these same patrons. He also took some of their money playing pool and in other games. He never cheated anyone out of their money. Greg was an honest and caring man, thanks to his wife and family.
“My good boy Lloyd let me get another whiskey and beer and while you’re at it get me some quarters too ah.” Greg's words were getting more slurred.
“Greg, come on man.
“Your on thirty days; dude that's a lot. Don't blow it. Your family! You can still get them back its never too late you know.” Lloyd announced this with a sincere and kind compassion that struck Greg in a most unusual way.
Greg thought of Bill from the meeting earlier at gamblers anonymous.
“Yea sounded just like Bill. What the hell is going on here?” Greg put up his hands at Lloyd. “Stop Lloyd, no! I'm good you keep that change alright. Thanks. I'll see ya later. I'm out of here.” Greg hurried and went for the door.
They say that timing is everything ,well it is for the fortunate and the not so fortunate.

The Confrontation

Luke could hear his name being screamed for his countenance from down stairs.
“Ah Jess what know? It’s always something, no peace at all it this damn place. Oh I should have seen it coming. Now I’m just like the rest of them. Go to Dads for this weekend mom’s for that Holiday. I hate my life!”
‘Luke what are you doing? I’ve been calling you for 15 minutes now. Why didn’t you hear me?” Jenny cried to her son.
‘I don’t know, the TV up high or something.” Luke went in the living room where his little sister, Amber and Grandma were watching TV. Amber had dozed off so only grandma was watching TV. Luke went to go jump on his little sister to wake her. But Jenny wasn’t having any of it. Her senses remained attuned to any disturbance's that may cause her to finally lose it.
“I swear Luke you do that and you’re grounded for a month. I am not playing around. Got that! Now get dressed we have to go shopping and I need help with the groceries and god knows I got no one else. Do it now, please!” After saying this Jenny could see in his eyes a look of enmity. She knew he had been taken the brunt of this situation.
They got into Jenny’s moms car to go to the store. Luke placed his seat-belt on and tightened it. Jenny looked at her son filling up with shame and guilt now. Jenny felt empathy after looking at her son with a tear rolling down in slow motion.
“Luke I'm sorry It not your fault or mine or anybody’s. Your Dad and I love you and your sister very much; your dad just has a problem that I cannot live with anymore. I do miss him and the way it used to be.” Jenny wiped off a tear as she said this to Luke. She looked back at her son and now with excitement and exuberance asked Luke, “Would you like to go by the old house, I mean our house and see if Dads home from his meeting yet?”
Luke was over joyed. “Dad hadn’t ever missed a call, so he’s probably just getting home.” Luke was now demonstrative in affect. “Yea let’s do that that’s great mom, you know what I think? Maybe things can work out; yea that’s what I think. Don’t you Mom.” Luke yelled to be heard over the radio playing in the background. (“Don't Stop thinking about tomorrow, don't stop it will soon be here.”-Fleetwod mac)
As they stopped at the stop sign next to the bright red neon sign in front of Hal’s. Luke looked out the window and saw Dad coming out of the Neon sign place.
“Hey, hey its dad stop mom.” Luke in excitement shouted.
Greg had just came out the door and saw his mother-in-laws car with his wife, soon to be ex-wife, driving and his son Luke in the back.
“ Eck, this is not going to look good no matter what it may look like. Maybe just make a run for it lots of cars look like mine right? Yes, yes. That will give me time to explain something later. Hey that wasn’t me don't know what you’re talking about I was sleeping.” Greg thought to himself anxiously.
It was too late for alternative scenarios. . It was time for the piper to be paid in full.
Jenny had already pulled up and rolled down her side window by Greg standing by his car.
“Hey Jenny how are you? Hey buddy give me a hug.” Greg motioned with a shriek as he tried to put on a happy face. Jenny wasn't buying into this trick.
“So Greg how was your meeting tonight?” Jenny said with a sly sarcastic growl.
Greg looked around as if she was talking to someone else.
“Jenny listen I was at the meeting. It got over with and I um stopped here to see some old buds nothing else.” He searched for the right words to say but they didn't come fast enough.
Jenny had asked him to come a little closer. Greg knew her motive; so he preempted her.
“Yea Jenny I had a couple, 3 or 4 drinks no gambling. Promise, trust me on this one. I did the right thing tonight. I left.” Greg pleaded with Jenny not to be haste or overact.
Jenny cut him off immediately.
“I can’t believe you anymore Greg; not anymore. Remember you’re a liar too! Are there any women in there ? Don't bother answering me Greg. You'll never learn and you will never change asshole! ” As she bellowed out in anger and hostility
Luke emerged from the back seat dejected and crying. “Mom please stop I believe him.” Luke straining in the back seat could not take anymore.
Jenny screamed at Luke to sit back and shut up.
“You know what Greg? I’ll see you in court and if you want to see your kids ever again get a lawyer because I am done period.” She screamed in rage and with determination.
Jenny sped away squealing the tires.
Greg just looked back, motionless and expressionless, at the car that held the most beautiful thing he had ever had in his life. Luke stared out the back window tears watered down his checks. Greg thought he had made the right decision. Well half right anyway.
“Hey I stopped, for the first time in my life I really stopped myself. But it doesn't even matter. Not to them, not to me, not to anyone!” So who cares anymore? Screw it anyways.”
Greg fumbled around in his pants pocket searching for his keys. His articulate movements were slow and dull. He looked in the car and saw them still in the ignition.
“Stupid ass Greg. Yea I know.” He thought to himself.
He got in the car and started it up. Instead of racing thoughts and a million situations rolling around in his head, he had nothing absolute silence.
He pulled out onto the street drove ahead to the stop sign and turned right to get on the highway. Greg forgot to look left for oncoming cars but turned anyways onto the busy intersection.
In a flash of a millisecond he saw himself at the hospital holding his first born child, which he named Luke after one of the disciples of Jesus.
A car traveling at a high rate of speed coming from the left had slammed into the driver’s side door.
Greg had forgot to put on his seat-belt and the airbag was useless. The high rate of force had propelled him so hard he flew out the passenger side window. Shatter glass littered the streets for hundreds of feet.
Greg lied motionless in the middle of a drive way.
Blood pouring out the right side of his head, one leg was facing the other direction; a position that legs should never be in. Greg moved his right arm up to his head where the blood was coming from. He wiped the blood from his eyes so he could see. His memory now shattered and displaced he wondered why he was lying in someone's drive way. No memory of today, yesterday, or what had just transpired. He could faintly hear something playing in the background, although he could not place it.
(“ White lace and feathers; they made up his bed, a gold covered mattress on which he was lead. Oooo what a lucky Man he was, Ooo what a lucky man he was. Ooo what a lucky man he was. A bullet had found him- his blood ran as he cried -no money could save him-so he laid there and he died. Oooo what a lucky man he was.” -Emerson Lake and Palmer.)
Greg remembered that song as it played over, and over, and over in his mind. He smiled happily now lying in a pool of blood which had turned into a lake blood. The sky looked so blue with white puffy clouds moving past so ever slowly. My kids that's all I can think of now. Why? Why?

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