Part-Time Peace

Warning: this story has themes of substance abuse and self harm.

“Ah-” 

Along with the short but tumultuous scream, he jolted up and opened his eyes far too wide for this early in the morning. That nightmare was intense, even by Trevor’s standards. Most mornings, especially away from home, he woke up in a sweat to his own yelp of terror. Like every other time, he responded by leaning up on his hands and staring at his mess of a hotel room in Vegas. 

What was different about today was he didn’t lay back down in pain from the night before. He didn’t take a swig of the random drink next to him to see what the devil poured him up. He didn’t even make coffee or a liquid IV concoction to get back up on his feet for a long, dragging work day on his computer. 

“Where are you going?” The girl next to him asked. He didn’t realize she was up, but she had been awake since before his nightmarish return to the real world. A girl in her position is fine with being at the mercy of the men in her life - she would’ve laid there until the next day if it meant sleeping in silk. 

“I’ve got to catch a flight. I’ve gotta uh- yeah. Today’s January first right?” Trevor asked rubbing his eyes and packing almost frantically.

“Of the year?”

“Is that a stupid question?”

“Yeah kinda.” She giggled. “It is baby. The fireworks were amazing last night.”

“I bet. I’m glad you had a good time.”

“You’re really sweet in the morning. Do you need your phone?” she asked upon ‘finding’ his phone that she tried to go through before he woke up. 

“No, I don’t. I know exactly where I’m going.” Trevor zipped up his half-full bag of clothes and a toothbrush and headed for the door.

“Wait, you’re leaving?”

“Yeah, can you check out the room for me? Anything I left in here is yours. Bye, baby.” Trevor walked out with confidence like he had somewhere important to be and didn’t care about anything else. 

“Well alright then,” the mystery girl said lying back into the 5-star bed in a 5-star hotel that she didn’t pay a penny for. 

Trevor was 2 hours early for his flight, which made it hard at first to focus on his task. Trevor couldn’t drink, he couldn’t get on technology, and he definitely couldn’t flirt with any of the beautiful businesswomen taking the first flight out of Sin City. It made the airport wait long and the flight even longer, but the abstinence got easier the later the day he got. 

“Would you like some snacks?” the flight attendant asked.

“Nothing with sugar.”

It just wasn’t him. Every step of the way, every decision Trevor made, every conversation he had was different. He was calm and chose his words carefully.

This year was especially exhilarating. Trevor’s business took the next step, making a rich man like himself richer and supplying a playboy lifestyle he had already established in clubs across the nation. He was on the cover of a magazine titled: ‘The American Dream’ that highlighted men and women who fit the stereotypical success story of the world superpower.  

A man’s gotta feel something now and again. He spent the past year chasing a feeling, looking for something that wasn’t monotonous. At this point, everything good in his life fit this bill -  happiness was easy. It was boring. If he wanted something new, he had to turn to pain. Physical, mental, spiritual - it didn’t matter. The addiction to suffering came in the form of drugs and alcohol, sex cult parties, and breaking off with any person who wasn’t looking to take advantage of him. In some instances, it meant burning, light poisoning, and depriving of food, all to himself of course. He was no saint but he wouldn’t include anyone else in his obsession with torture unless they were demons themselves bringing hell on Earth. And hell is exactly what he wanted - even though it hurt every second of the way.

A monk waited patiently for Trevor’s private plane to land and for his client to walk out. It’s hard not to seem like a prick when you arrive in a private plane but Trevor walked up and shook his hand with grace. The monk analyzed him briefly to notice a few glaring traits - Trevor’s hair was still a mess from the night before. He stunk of weed and alcohol and his eyes had bags Louis Vuitton would be jealous of. The monk’s piercing eyes didn’t set Trevor off. Trevor knew he was a work in progress. The monk released his sharp gaze once noticing Trevor’s stoicism.

“So you want to find peace?” The monk asked.

“Are you guys supposed to talk?”

“When someone donates a million dollars to our temple just to join us for a month then yeah I do.”

“So even monks can’t resist the power of money.”

“No, what a monk can’t resist is a spirit in desperate need of attention. A man of your stature asking to join me in meditation and going to such extreme lengths to do so intrigues me.”

Trevor took a second to ensure his answer encapsulated exactly how he felt.

“Jubilation is the emotion that has defined my entire life. So I turned to pain for something new. What’s similar about both is they take a lot of energy. I’m a tired man Clover. I need peace.”

“Peace is the hardest of them all.”

“So be it.”

Everything was explained by demonstration. Clover spent most of his days in a crisscross position breathing slowly, watching the trees rustle and the squirrels fight for nuts. Trevor fit right in like a glove, especially once he shaved the goatee and long flowy dark hair off. Removing the hair on his body was just one more thing to add to the list of problems he no longer needed to worry about. 

The hardest thing for Trevor was balance. literally. It took a week or two to gain his center of gravity back from the years of drinking for sanity. His ears needed about the same amount of time to stop ringing. Every morning he woke up energized and every night he went to sleep sober. Besides the three or four words spoken out of necessity, the only words he heard were those in the wind and the stars telling him why nothing matters but everything is worth pondering and caring for. Sometimes it took him more energy to avoid something than to give it a second or two of thought. 

“Trevor,” Clover said tapping his shoulder gently. 

Trevor was watching the final leaves on a nearby tree hold on for dear life before flying away for the ride of a lifetime. It was a particularly windy and cold day, but a particularly sunny day. His eyelids were frozen in place because he had sat in that spot for hours until the interruption. 

“Yes, Clover?”

“It’s February first. And you have a call that you can decline to take.”

“Already. That was quick.”

“I would’ve thought it to be slow for you.”

“It was. But it wasn’t.”

“Should I decline the call?”

“No. I owe an explanation.”

Trevor got up and walked slowly over to the only phone in the temple, usually reserved for emergencies. He picked up the old rotary and waited.

“Hello?” The other side of the line asked accusingly. 

“Hey, sis.”

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“Fair enough. I won’t say a thing. I quit drinking for a week and it was pretty eye-opening.”

“I would usually say that isn’t the same thing, but that would require me to pretend this isn’t just as ridiculous.” 

“There’s a Mardi Gras ball in New Orleans tonight. Dad’s introducing us to the governor. He wants to talk to you about the best state to settle in for election purposes.”

“Okay.”

“Will you be there?”

“Are there drinks?”

“It’s New Orleans baby. The food alone will put you in a coma.”

Trevor turned to Clover with the eyes of a man with no choice.

“Yeah. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Trevor puts the phone down slowly, holding his eye contact the entire time. 

“That’s all you needed to say. Good luck. Your planes out front.”

“Did you call them?”

“I didn’t have faith.”

“I thought that was your whole thing.”

“What? To be delusional? Please, don’t patronize me. Your bags are already on.”

“It meant a lot to me.”

“I bet it did. I bet it did.”

“Are you upset?”

“No. I want you to do what you want to do. Peace isn’t for everybody. Sometimes they chase bliss. Sometimes they chase pain.”

“But isn’t peace the best?”

“...I’ve never woken up next to a model in a 5-star hotel after a night of drinking and gambling until the drugs put me to sleep. I can’t tell you if it’s worth what’s on the other side. All I can say is I’m not chasing something different.”

Trevor just nods and walks to the plane. He seems disappointed in himself but physically can’t stop his legs from moving towards what’s comfortable. Towards his old life. 

“Same time next year?” Trevor asked before getting on. He said it with a chuckle but the question was no joke.

“I’ll be here.”