Teachable Moments

3

I got out of there as fast I could. This isn't happening, this can not be happening. One day on the job and I've already stuck my tongue down a student's throat. I thought bars were supposed to card underage kids to keep this exact thing from happening!

I'm going to lose my job. There's no way no one saw me practically sucking that kid's face off. God, I feel disgusting. I may have been drunk, but I'm stone cold sober now. This is going to ruin my life. If I manage to not end up on a registry somewhere I'm definitely going to end up unemployed and I wouldn't be surprised if my grad program kicked me out. I'm such a fucking idiot. This is what I get for falling off the wagon.

Remember what I said about being the fat comic book nerd with an unhealthy obsession with death? Well, add on top of that being pansexual. Needless to say, it resulted in a lot of depression and psychological scars. I got into heavy drinking and drugs while I was still in high school. I hit rock bottom last year, did too many lines and stopped my heart. I wouldn't be here if the guy down the hall hadn't been in medical school. Cardiac thumps hurt like a bitch by the way.

I started getting my shit together after that. Getting clean wasn't easy. Staying clean was harder, especially after my grandma died. She was my rock. She practically raised my brother and I when we were too young to stay home alone. It was an unexpected death too. Yes, her health had been getting worse, but there was really no noticeable decline, no days or weeks in a hospital bed to say goodbye. She was just gone.

I decided to take a gap year, living in her house and working temp jobs until I got my head right. That's how I ended up as a substitute teacher. Apparently, if you have real-life experience in the field, school systems are willing to bend on the whole teaching degree thing.

By the time I get home I'm numb, and not just from the chilly night air. Every mistake I've ever made swirled through my head. I knew the signs, I was spinning out. Every addiction I've ever had was clawing its way back up my throat. I felt like I was going to vomit. No wait, I actually am going to vomit.

There's something so demeaning about being a grown-ass man puking his guts up into a pastel pink toilet adorned with handmade doilies. Needless to say, I hadn't done much redecorating since taking over the house.

I thought of my grandmother now and hoped like hell that from whatever ethereal plane her spirit had moved on to she couldn't see me like this. Her oldest grandson, a crying, retching mess kneeling on her bathroom floor.

When there is nothing left to expel from my stomach I slump back against the bathroom wall, staring at the floral wallpaper across from me as I fish my phone out of the god awful skin tight pants I wore out tonight. I open my contacts and scroll to the only number I ever seem to call these days, my brother Mikey.

Mikey and I have always been extremely close, more so than most siblings. We just always got each other, and besides that, I've always been so immature that there was never really that whole "big brother - little brother" dynamic. We're basically equals. Though in recent years his ability to have normal, healthy relationships and make good choices has, in my opinion at least, made him the superior sibling.

He answers on the third ring and the tired tone to his voice automatically makes me feel a thousand times shittier for calling this late.

"Hey Gee, wa'sup?"

"Mikey, I- I'm sorry. I woke you up didn't I? Ne- never mind. Sorry I woke you."

"Gee, stop. I was awake going over class notes. Is everything okay? Why do you sound like that?"

Suddenly I couldn't form the words I so desperately wanted to say, because no, things weren't even remotely close to okay right now. I realized that he was still there, on the other end of the line waiting for an answer, but all I could force out was a stuttered sob.

"Oh god, Gee what is it? Did you relapse? Please tell me you didn't relapse-"

"N- no, but it's bad Mikes. I- I, oh God, I-"

"Gerard, are you at Gran's?"

"Ye- yeah-"

"Don't go anywhere. Just, don't go and do anything stupid, okay? I'm on my way."

And with that, the line went dead. The hour it took for Mikey to get from his college campus to Gran's house passes in a blur of tears, dry heaves, and intrusive thoughts. I had thought that the overdose was my rock bottom, but I was wrong. This was what rock bottom looked like, my tired brother rushing in to find me hungover and crying on our deceased grandmother's vinyl bathroom floor.