I'm sitting in a living room in Houston watching Donnie Brasco. The sound of Peter Pan floats in from somewhere else in the house. I'm tired. My eye's twitching. Pain in my back. It's 10 am in a Houston living room and I need a drink.
Yesterday, 3:15 pm. Brownsville, Tx. My desk is cluttered and the computer monitor is teasing me with a screensaver of a beach. This is what hell must be like; your feet burning in the flame and machines mocking you with images of cold beer and beautiful women. It's so close but it's also never really there. My eyes edge on closing and the mind begins to drift closer to a dream. My cellphone buzzes. It's so faint I almost don't hear it, but it keeps on. *buzz...buzz...buzz...*
"Hola, hola"
"Hola, mijo."
"Que onda, ma. Como estas?"
"..."
"Ma?" I wait as she quietly tries to formulate her words.
"No me siento bien..."
"Como? Estas enferma?"
"Te digo ya que sales del trabajo."
I hang up the phone. That is cryptic and I don't like it.
The day goes by quickly enough and I'm back on the phone. My mother is shaken, worried. I try to calm her down but she's crying and wants me to go over immediately. My eye starts twitching. Stress and the desire for a drink.
Home is a cathartic place and all the memories are omnipresent. I try and show up at least once a week to see how she's doing. A free meal never hurts either. It's a two story home with red brick walls, palm tree by the front door needs trimming, and the mesquite tree in the yard hangs over the street corner. I walk in and call out for her. She's in her bedroom, all her luggage is packed on the bed. After a hug and plentiful sobbing, she tells me she has pains in her head, neck, chest, and armpit.
We'll fast forward through the drive. It's quiet, she's tired and I'm tired. The sun has gone down and my eye is twitching. We arrive in Houston just shy of 2 am. My sister is awake and ready to take her to the hospital. I'm left in the house with only a television and a faded copy of Factotum to ease my mind.
Throughout the night I receive text message updates from my sister.
"She's been let through" .... "I haven't been allowed to see her yet" .... "They're running tests, X-ray, and MRI" .... "She's been discharged." By the time that last one arrived I've already passed out on the couch.
So what's the point of all this? Why are you reading my diatribe of the night before? What ended up happening? You're better off going outside. Put down your phone or shutdown your computer and go outside because nothing happened. She just needed to sleep more. That's all. Don't get me wrong, I'm overjoyed at this and of course I'll run around half the country to help my family. I'm just a tired drunk. A tired drunk who hasn't had a drink.