The Problem is Me [EDITED)

Chapter 21

November, 2014

I could hardly bare it. Things had been okay, well as okay as things can get, up until the sun started to set and the rain decided to make an appearance. I had left everything behind for a sense of solitude, to escape everything and most importantly everyone. I had anticipated it for so many years, to finally get away. But now I was here, even the puffs of breath I blew into my balled up fists seemed cold, god did I long for some company.

The average winter here was the type of winter that everyone contradicted with a love hate relationship. It was the type to force you to breath into your hands, making them clammy and cold, only to repeat the process a few minutes passing because cold had taken over again. You love the way it looked with the snow on the ground and the smell of Jack Frost’s delicate touch and it makes you want to lock the senses in a jar. Then again, as your face numbs, your hands cringe and a shudder of chills is sent down your spine, all you long for are warm covers or the sensation of a long gone summer sun. 

Well wasn’t that incredibly poetic? Sometimes I think I could have made it in the world of literature, and then I remember that I’m an asshole.  

I was currently sat on the curb of the road huddled into my jacket, which was very thin might I add. It was one of those typical black hoodie/jacket things with the white drawstrings; I was really starting to regret my life choices.

Across from me was a twenty four hour coffee shop, with the neon flashing sign above the door and everything. The only problem was, I had no money to go in with. Of course I could try and bargain with the cashier to give me one for free, but I was too cold to even get up and attempt the idea. Plus, my ass was numb.

Realising that my only other option was to stay here and probably die of hypothermia, I yanked myself up and started practising my best puppy dog eyes.

As soon as I opened the door and the bell rang, the warmth quickly enveloped me which made me shiver more at the contrast of temperatures. There weren’t many people in here, only a man and a child who I presume to be father and son looking gloomy. The child, who looked about nine, was swinging his feet back and forth whilst the older guy was holding his head in his hands. Looking up to the clock, I noticed it was getting on for two in the morning. This must have been rock bottom for that guy and his kid, spending the whole night in a coffee shop with no place else to go.

I noticed another single guy at the end booth, hunched over; ignoring everyone around him so that I could almost see the wall he was projecting around himself. He only looked about twenty five. From my spot by the door, I could see the unhappy lines on his face etched deeply, the lowest pits of them invisible shadows, and I realised if I didn’t do something about my life, my face would soon look like that too.

Sadly I walked over to the counter and a middle aged woman came out from the back.

“What can I get ya’ pumpkin?” She asked chewing loudly on her gum.

I shivered and pulled my sleeves over my hands, “I don’t suppose you’ve got a free cup of coffee going? I haven’t really got any money.” I smiled shakily.

“No can do kid, sorry,” She looked at me pitifully.

I pulled my jacket closer to my body and sighed, “Come on, please? I’m fifteen years old; I don’t know what else to do. Please.”  I asked again, but she just shook her head.

Accepting defeat, I prepared myself for the bitter coldness once again when a husky voice spoke up from the back of the room. “Jules, be a babe and order this kid a coffee? Put it on my tab.” The lonely dude from before said.

“Hey, thanks man.” I replied and took a seat on the nearest table. Before my coffee was done, the guy came and sat opposite me. He had dark brown hair, which was cut short on the bottom, and curly on the top. Although, he still seemed as sad as he did before.

The waitress brought my coffee over, and I wrapped my hands around the warm cup trying to stop the sting from being in the cold for too long.

“You smoke, kid?” The guy asked me.

I shook my head in response and he scoffed, “Why not?”

Because I was in a mental hospital for half of my life I thought, but I ended up saying that I never really thought about starting to smoke.

He raised an eyebrow questionably and reached into his pocket, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and taking one out from the box. “Did you know that every cigarette you smoke takes eleven minutes off your life?” Twiddling the cigarette in his fingers, he watched it interestingly.

“Yeah,” I replied.

Rolling the cigarette across the table to me, he took a small sip of his coffee. “Rough day, huh?” He started coolly, like he didn’t have a care in the world.

I shrugged, “I’ve had better days I suppose.”

“Likewise. I keep telling myself that every single day, I’m not sure if the better days have even existed or if it’s all just a figure of my imagination to make myself feel better.” He muttered, “What’s your name, kiddo?”

“Nathan.”

“Well, nice to meet you Nathan. I’m Jay.” We shook hands, and for a while; everything came to a standstill. I continued to sip my coffee whilst looking out the window to the pouring rain which was bouncing off the sidewalk.  

Oh how I love the rain.

I was tired as hell, weary with the burden of long-closed eyes; I could have easily pulled off being a zombie, dead on the inside but subconsciously awake. For some reason it had only occurred to me that I would indeed have to stay up all night, because I’ve got nowhere to go.

Jay rose to his feet and looked down at me, “C’mon.” He nodded his head in the direction of the door and I wearily followed after downing the remainder of my coffee.

When we got outside into the rain, Jay pulled out a lighter and lit his cigarette; it was only then that I realised I still had the one he gave me.

Jay took the cigarette out of my hands and lit it, before giving it back to me and turning to look out onto the now very empty streets.

After a moments deliberation I brought the cigarette to my lips. I couldn’t quite say why I did – some was curiosity, some was about seeing if I could get addicted. And a tiny shred might’ve been labelled peer pressure by anyone less proud.

I took the first dirty drag, but I found something satisfying about how it felt. It tasted bad, and I wanted to cough my guts up when it burned the back of my throat, but I liked that; liked the feeling of pollutant, of deliberately putting something into my body not because I’d been prescribed, but because I wanted to. Making a bad decision just because others have vainly tried to medicate me into making good ones.

I took another deeper breath and held the coughing back this time, not wanting to seem too inexperienced, as I slowly let out a plume of smoke. Then I got a rush, something that took my by the neck and metaphorically pushed me downwards. A nicotine wave warmer and more pleasant than anything the doctors could have ever prescribed me. I leaned against the wall beside Jay in silence, taking drag after drag of the cigarette.

“You ain’t got a place to go, have you kiddo?” Jay asked, breaking the sweet silence.

“Never have, never will.”

Jay smiled through the smoke and patted my shoulder in a friendly way, “It’ll all pan out eventually. But don’t take me for an example whatever you do, I’m twenty seven and I’m still a fucking mess.” He sighed before saluting me and walking away.

I watched him as he took slow steps down the road, until he was out of sight completely. My cigarette had died down by now, so I threw it onto the pavement and crushed it underneath my heel. 

If I was going to get anything done, it looked like I was going to have to pay my darling mother a visit.