After Antonio was gone, Cochraine landed a part time job as a bartender, got a haircut, cleaned up his act, cut out drugs. Harold and Mike still hung around so he had company, and all they did was drink beer, Labbatt’s Blue Light. Eventually, Mike cut out the drugs and began working full time, never returning to that house. Harold went back to live with his parents, and Cochraine was left all alone to his drinking and his radio. During his three days off, he went back on hard liquor and drank up his whole paycheck, alienated and in a blackout, he began walking. For hours he seemed to walk in the blistering cold until he reached a bridge. Below it was a raging river. He stared and thought about it for a moment. He didn’t want to go back to the house. He had nothing to return to. He climbed over the ledge so his legs dangled over. He stared into the sky for a few short moments, then pushed himself into the water. The minute he hit the icy rushing stream he suddenly didn’t want to die, so he struggled. Trying to swim to the left or to the right, being flushed under and slamming into jagged rocks. Blood flowed out of his legs. He emerged again for a moment, thrashed around and then went under again, being dragged along a rock cutting a two inch gash into his right leg. An undertow flung him upwards where he spat water and inhaled deeply slapping his arms against the ice cold rushing waters at a desperate grasp at one of the roots of the trees growing on the banks of the growing river. He managed to brush one but was dragged under again and pushed himself off the rocks below with his hands and arms, noticing the dark red clouds of blood billowing out of his right leg. He used a burst of strength to propel himself off a rock towards the bank where he managed to wrap his arms around a fat dry root. He held to it for what seemed like half an hour until the earth underneath the tree, which was dead, gave way and fell into his face. The tree fell into the water and floated down the stream. Cochraine struggled underwater for a moment nearly buried in clay and then emerged again to another deep breath. He swam after the tree and soon had full grasp of it. The river narrowed, and the tree got caught in the banks. Cochraine climbed up the tree trunk, and walked along it slowly towards the bank. He had been drinking for three days, and the trunk was slippery, but he managed to climb off and get to the bank. He limped to the road, limped to a payphone and called 911. Fifteen minutes later a paramedics’ vehicle picked him up and took him to the hospital, where they stitched up his leg, fed him. He sobered up, and was released. He went back to work, and was soon working full time as a bartender, and enjoyed listening to the stories of the men drinking at his bar. They became his friends, his regulars, and his family. On his weekends, he spent time cleaning and fixing up the house. He repaired the windows, had the carpet cleaned, cleaned up all the garbage. Soon it was a nice place to live for him. One morning he felt particularly well, and stepped into the morning breeze, stopping for a moment, to look at his feet.
kurtice6@hotmail.com
he'd love some feedback
he's a very lonely man