Waking Up

I stare wistfully out the small window and across the tarmac.

I’m going to miss the desert.

A typical early winter day in Tucson. The sun shines brightly from clear blue skies onto the tan desert sand, generously sprinkled with the cactus greens of saguaro, cholla, hedgehog, and barrel. Not a single Palo Verde tree in site, though. There are a handful of them decorating the main entrance side of the airport.

The plane rolls backward and is turned. The pilot guides it to the runway. After a few minutes to wait, the engines whine and the plane begins to roll, gathering speed.

I fight down the feeling that I’m running away with my tail between my legs. I’d moved here with high hopes, but couldn’t make it work. Maybe I was just chasing a childhood memory.

As the plane leaves the ground, and I feel the last fifteen years fall away. I reflect on how little I accomplished. No family to speak of. Divorced from a ten-year marriage, no children, and my siblings live in New York. No close friends – I left all of them in New York when I moved.

It is fortunate I have a direct flight. With no layovers, there are fewer opportunities to change my mind. For seven and a half hours, I’m in a transient state between the not-quite-dead past and the not-quite-living future. I feel like Schrödinger's Cat.

I land in the cold, harsh reality of my decision. The temperature is about forty degrees colder. The wind slices through my insufficient outerwear as I slog through a wintry mix to the shelter of the airport.

My brother Ben and his wife Darlene are waiting for me inside.

“Hey, Mark,” he grunts in his usual monotone. I return his head-nod.

Darlene hugs me enthusiastically. “It’s so great to see you! How are you holding up?”

I return her hug and sigh with gratitude. “I’ve been better.”

“We’ve got the spare room all set up for you,” she says. “Stay as long as you like.”

“Thanks.”

*   *   *

Darlene finishes setting the table and sits down. She and Ben fill their plates; I follow suit.

“I hope the room is okay,” she says.

“Oh, it’s fine. I’ll start looking for a more permanent place tomorrow.”

“You have a job?” Ben asks.

“I’ll also be looking for one of those tomorrow.”

“No need to rush things,” Darlene says.

“Thanks.”

“I’ve got tomorrow off,” she says. “You can use my car if you need to.”

“Okay. Great.”

*   *   *

The alarm startles me in the morning. Despite the sun shining outside, it still feels like the middle of the night. It’s going to take me some time to adjust to the two-hour time difference. After a quick shower and breakfast, I spend the morning on the Internet browsing jobs, cars, and apartments.

Darlene is reading in the living room when I finally come down stairs.

“I’ve got some errands to run,” I say. “Can I pick up anything while I’m out?”

“Oh, thanks, no.”

“Okay. You’ve got my mobile number in case anything comes up? I’m not sure when I’ll get back.”

“Yes, I have it.”

“Okay. See you later.”

*   *   *

I had applied for jobs online and there was no point in looking at cars until I had a job, so most of my afternoon is spent doing drive-bys of apartments to get a sense of the neighborhoods.

After a grueling afternoon of dealing with the narrower and winding streets typical of an East Coast city, I decide to stop at the local tavern owned by my best friend Alex. It’s a slow afternoon and she’s is tending the bar. The only other patron is a haggard-looking guy at the far end of the bar.

“Hey, Mark! How’s it going?”

I take a seat and shrug my shoulders.

“What’ll you have?” she asks.

“Captain and Coke.”

She raises an eyebrow at that. I don’t think she’s ever seen me drink anything but seltzer.

“Here ya go,” she said, setting the glass in front of me. I reach for my wallet, but she waves it off.

I sip rather than gulp, savoring rather than needing the warm, relaxed, disconnected feeling as the alcohol reaches my bloodstream.

They guy at the end of the bar taps lightly. Alex replaces his empty glass with another.

“You seem different,” she says after washing out the empty glass and putting it back on the rack.

I take another sip as I ponder my answer.

“I woke up one morning feeling like I had died inside.”

“Oh, wow. What’d you do?”

I smile, pick up my drink in salute, and finish it in one gulp. She takes the glass and replaces it with a fresh one. I play with it for a few moments, but don’t take another sip.

“After too many months,” I continue, “I had an epiphany.”

“Yeah?”

I nod. “I finally realized what I had to do to be happy.”

“And what was that?”

“I had to stop being the man people expect me to be. I have to be my own man.”

Alex laughs. “Who’s expecting you to be anything else?”

I roll my eyes and take a sip from my drink. “Society. Girlfriends. Wife – Ex-wife. People I tend to associate with.” Alex looks at me. “Not you. But I tend to be drawn to people who want me to be someone I’m not.”

“You are who you are, Mark.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “You’ve always liked me for who I really am. Thank you for that.” I raise my glass in a toast to her, but I don’t drink from it. “You’ve always been such a great friend to me.”

“I’m gonna have to cut you off if you keep talking like that,” she says, laughing.

“Not to worry.” I push my unfinished drink back across the bar. Alex dumps the drink and replaces it with a seltzer. The plain fizzy liquid crossing my palate is definitely more satisfying.

“Good to know. Hey, what are you doing for work?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Nothing yet.”

“I could use some help around here. It’ll be just like the old days.”

I laugh. “That seedy place down the street from the college.”

“We made some great tips there. Got us by.”

“Yeah.” I scowl and let out a sigh.

“What’s the trouble?”

“Well.” I fiddle with a napkin. “I’m homeless and I have no reliable means of transportation.”

She laughs. “So, you sleep on the streets, bath in the fountains, and you walked here?”

“Okay, so not exactly homeless and without transportation. I’m staying with my brother and his wife. And I borrowed her car today.”

“That doesn’t seem too bad.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to take advantage them. And your tavern isn’t exactly on the bus route.”

The guy at the end of the bar leaves. Alex picks up the empty glass and wipes down the bar.

“Tell you what,” she says. “The upstairs has a decent-sized living space. I have a spare room.” She smiles impishly. “You could take advantage of me.”

“That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

“Great! I can have the room ready for you tomorrow afternoon.”

“Sounds good.” I finish my seltzer and stand. “I shall see you tomorrow.”

I walk out of the tavern feeling pretty good. Life finally feels like it’s moving in the right direction.