Waking Up (Part 1)
“You’re Fired” Fatty screamed, “Get this asshole out of here now!” A scrawny man with shoulder length blonde hair was punched in the stomach, and then grabbed up by two large men and dragged toward the door. People outside the 5th Street Hop, a shit bar on the edge of the Bronx, watched in all the commotion and then laughed as the two men threw the other out the door, and into the gutter of the piss damp streets. Their laughter grew as the tossed attempted to stand only to fall back down face first into the filth.
“See you around Reynolds!” One of the men cackled as they went back inside the bar. Outside no one attempted to help Reynolds, and he was forced to gather himself on his own. Robert Reynolds, a 29 year old unshaven ragged man, who blended into the city a little more than he should, coughed, spit blood from a busted gum line onto the ground, and stuck his middle finger up at the front door of the 5th Street Hop. Like he needed that crap job anyway, but who was he kidding, everything he got tonight he deserved.
Bob straightened his second hand coat, turned, and walked down the street; nothing else to do now, but go home. What a night. It was only April, and this would make the third job that he had lost this year. Tonight, he had shown up late for work again, and the smell of alcohol was on his breath. He wasn’t drunk, but he needed just enough to take the edge off. A lot of crap was going on. It hadn’t been the first time though; Fatty had singled him out, and cussed him like a dog in front of everyone. He had told the overweight jew to go to hell, and now here he was.
The five blocks to his one room apartment took a few minutes to reach. It had started pouring down rain, and he was drenched to the bone. He hadn’t cared about walking in the rain. There were worse things on his mind than a little bit of rain, and in the face of it all the sound of the rain on concrete, and the soft distant rumbling of thunder was relaxing, and for a man who could never stop thinking he needed something relaxing.
Seven years ago, Bob had come to New York to be a writer. He never made it, the rejection letters kept coming, and debts kept climbing. Soon the cost of living, and the cost of his habits did not allow him time for writing. He hated working though, all he wanted to do was write, but his mind could not focus long enough to write a coherent sentence, and the times that he could he was never able to finish. Now all Bob wanted was for everything to stop. He wanted to world to stop moving and just stand still.
He started to feel that itch again, that craving. Bob walked through the door of his apartment, tossed his coat and drenched shirt into the corner. The phone message light was blinking. He didn’t want to press the button, because he already knew what that message would contain. Only one person, knew that number. Only one, had any reason to call him. Every instinct told Bob to not press the button, but if he didn’t he would prolong the ordeal. He pressed the button, and the automated voice came on informing him of one unheard message. There was a shrill beep, and a voice he had once loved came cracking through the busted answer machine’s speaker.
“Bob, look I’m getting really tired of this crap. My lawyer sent you the divorce papers over a month ago. Will you please just sign the damn papers, so we can have the divorce finalized. Hell I bet you’re probably too fucking high to even realize we’re not together anymore.” There was a pause and Lindy sighed, “Look just sign the papers, after that you can go do whatever the hell you want. You can overdose or drown yourself for all I care. I just want you out of my life, so I can move on. Sign the papers Bob.”
There were no more messages after that. There was no sense in getting mad about it. Lindy was gone, and the divorce papers she had been talking about lay on the table next to the phone. He really didn’t know why he hadn’t signed them. He ran his hands across them spreading them out, and noticed that he was still wearing their wedding band. Perhaps Lindy was right. Maybe he wasn’t quite ready to accept that they weren’t together anymore.
He had met Lindy at New York State not long after he had moved to New York, the two fell in love, and only after three months they had married. They were together till a year ago. He could not quite remember where things had first started to go bad. There were fights, and nights were one or the other wouldn’t come home. Then finally one day, Lindy said she wanted a divorce. Bob didn’t try to stop her. He didn’t say anything. He just watched her leave. He felt he was being the good guy, by being the one who didn’t make a big deal out of it.
He would sign the divorce papers, but not tonight. He didn’t feel like it. He walked over to the sofa, plopped down, and turned on the old TV. The News was on. He hated the news. Like he really cared what was going on in the world. He could not care less if there were super criminals saving the world in Seattle or offing each other at that prison out in the bay. Things like Avengers, mutants, spies, and assassins didn’t matter to him. Why should they? Like any of those super powered freaks really gave a damn if he lived or died. They didn’t care that Lindy left him, or that some ass of a boss threw him into the streets tonight. Like they cared that for the past three years he had been slowly killing himself with booze and heroin. To him, superheroes were about as real as talking Ducks that had the hots for ditzy chicks. Speaking of which, maybe there were some cartoons on.
Bob changed the channel, and got his wish. He heard a familiar tune that was his favorite from stays at his grandparents as a kid. Faster than a speeding bullet, More powerful than a locomotive. Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound. The amazing man with the power of a million exploding suns. The golden guardian of good. The Sentry!
Bob chuckled as he watched the old cartoon. The Sentry had been his favorite comic growing up. It was always so simple. The Sentry was brave and strong. He always beat the bad guy, saved the day, and got the girl. To bad real heroes could not be like that.
Things were just so complicated. If only they could be simple. Bob clicked off the TV reached under the bed, and pulled out a small tin box. He didn’t care if anyone walked in the door, besides in a few minutes it wouldn’t even matter. He opened the tin, took out a syringe, and a tiny paper envelope. He had done this so many times now it was like a blur. liquify, draw, stick, and press. Do all that and the world melts away in a matter of seconds.
He grabbed up a tourniquet and wrapped it around his arm, and tapped the bend in his arm, waiting for the veins to rise. It it took was a prick, but he stopped. He didn’t have to be anywhere tomorrow, and his doors were locked.
“Up the dose, Reynolds” he thought. For a brief moment Bob fought the urge, but giving in was just too damn easy. Up the dose, prick, and squeeze.
Euphoria. It felt like flying. Everything was simple, and nothing mattered anymore. .
Bob Reynolds head was pounding, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. He could hear the sounds of screeching tires, and blaring horns. The wind blew on his face causing him to shiver. Maybe he had he left the window open? It hurt like hell, but eventually Robert Reynolds pried his eyes open, and when he did he could not close them. His heart skipped a beat, and he screamed out in terror as he looked down at the asphalt that lay several feet below him. Suddenly he realized he wasn’t in his apartment, but on the roof of Saint Matthews Church in the middle of downtown Manhattan.
“How the hell did I get up here!” was the only thought ringing in his mind. The wind blew, and that was when Bob realized that he had a blue sheet draped around his shoulders. No not a sheet. A cape.
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