A Sweaty Guy - Homeless in Hawaii

8.

In mid-June Shea arrived to spend her summer with me. I resolved not to drink while she was in my care; I continued with the cough syrup though. Most days, I took Shea to work with me and usually dropped her off at Kahala Mall. At thirteen, she enjoyed some independence and Kahala was a safe, familiar place near my work. She had a cell phone and I'd call her to arrange meet for lunch. Other days she would choose to stay home and play video games or watch TV.

My new job would start in July and I was wrapping things up at the school district, passing my cases along to my coworkers. It was summer and my workload was light. As much as I could, I’d cut out from work early. Shea and I spent a few happy afternoons at the beach.

I hadn’t seen Jessica since that last failed attempt at sex with her, but I’d been obsessing about her, about my impotency that night, and about winning her over. I decided to introduce Shea to Jessica and her daughters. I knew Shea would get along well with and Samantha and hoped that Jessica would warm up to me again. Jessica was polite. We all went out for dinner one night. My daughter got along well with hers. We had a pleasant evening, but Jessica was distant, quiet, restrained.

She hadn’t outright rejected me, but I decided to keep my distance again, thus allowing myself the illusion that I still had a shot with her. Besides, I had a new job to jump into, a new career that would help me to prove my worth to Jessica, and to everyone else. I also had my old standby obsession to fall back on, alcohol.

*

I began my job with Mark on July first, a Thursday. Those first two days before the Fourth of July weekend I spent organizing my new workspace and familiarizing myself with the cases that Mark was assigning to me. I came into work early and stayed late. I apologized to Shea, who stayed at home alone for those first couple of long days. She had no friends in Hawaii and I was bummed that she had to spend the whole day by herself in the house.

The Fourth of July weekend promised a chance for us to spend some quality time together. But the alcoholic obsession continued to dog me. I hid this, or tried to hide it, from Shea; she’d seen me drunk before and knew it was a problem. We’d talked about my drinking before and she’d experienced it. (The last Christmas she had visited, I was pulled over by the police with her in the car. The officers took pity on Shea, and rather than give me a sobriety test, which we all knew I’d fail, they put us in a cab and told me to come back for the car after I’d sobered up.)

We got an early start and spent much of Saturday at the beach. By around two in the afternoon we’d both had enough. Not too tired, not too sunburned, and plenty hungry, we headed to L & L Drive-Inn for a plate lunch. On the way home, we stopped at Blockbuster, for some Jackie Chan movies, and then Long’s Drug, where I found a great deal on the extra large bottles of their store brand “Tussin” cough syrup. I bought two.

At home I guzzled half a bottle of cough syrup while Shea showered the beach off her body. I took a shower myself, and when we were both ready, we settled in to watch the classic Jackie Chan movie, “Project A Part II”.

I’d been buzzing lightly all day on the DXM, but that last dose of cough syrup put me into hyperspace. By the time Jackie found himself fending off the entire Axe Gang, my mind was careening off into realms unknown. I remained aware of Shea quietly watching the movie next to me while I phased in and out of sync with a parallel universe. At a couple of points Shea made comments or asked questions about the plot line. I struggled with appropriate answers.

By the time the movie ended, I was planted firmly back in the familiar universe with my daughter, but I was still buzzing hard. By “buzzing”, I don’t simply mean “intoxicated”. The effects of DXM made me feel as though my very soul was vibrating at some frequency verging on resonance with the divine.

I was a bit unsteady on my feet as I got up to change the DVD. I loaded up City Hunter, another Hong Kong production starring our favorite comedy martial artist. I threw a bag of popcorn in the microwave and went upstairs to pee and take another swig of Tussin.

I brought sodas and popcorn back to the couch just as the movie was opening. Jackie Chan was talking to the camera as City Hunter, but the voice was someone else’s, an American accent. Shea seemed uneasy. I set the popcorn on the coffee table and asked her what was wrong. “Nothing,” she shrugged.

When I sat down she reached over and put her arms around me and gave me a kiss. Then she grabbed her popcorn and settled in to watch the movie. It crossed my mind that the kiss was a ploy to check for alcohol on my breath. I was pleased and disgusted with myself that I’d been able to fool her.