A Life Gone Awry

The exciting and terrifying part of life is that you never know how it will unfold. You can make all the plans you want, but it will be in vain.

Life tends to laugh at our carefully constructed plans like a witch cackling over a cauldron. If you don’t believe me, the story of my unraveling should be more than enough for you to see it my way.

My name is Ellery Andrews and I’m as far off from my life plan as a person can be. My plan, in fact, has been discarded in the dumpster like yesterday’s newspaper. You couldn’t find it if you tried.

 My life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way; mopping floors at one in the morning on a Saturday. I had plans. Big plans.

I dunked the mop back into the neon yellow bucket, trying to catch my reflection in the murky brown water. Although difficult to make out, I could see the prominent features of my face in the reflection.

My life had become like that water. A short time ago it was clear. It had potential. Now it was polluted and going down the drain like the water would be in an hour.

I rung the mop out and watched the water darken as the new dirt and grime mixed with the old. I dipped the mop back into the water, soaked it again, and took it back out, continuing the familiar zig zag pattern down the faded linoleum hallway.

I read a book a while back that told you how to turn a mindless task like mopping into a meditation exercise. You’re supposed to focus completely on what you’re doing so that your mind would stop thinking. I’ve tried, but it’s safe to say I haven’t reached Nirvana yet.

The time usually begins to race by once I hit the halfway point of 2 A.M. On that particular morning, it went by about as fast as a New York winter. The exact type of winter that I had to walk into after clocking out.

The winter had been absolutely brutal that year. It had been an average of zero degrees for three weeks straight. On that particular morning, it just so happened to be three below zero. Perfect for the mile walk home.

As I reached for my timecard later that morning feeling the sting of sudden drowsiness fill my eyes, I stared at my name on it. I had been thinking about changing my name, mostly for my family’s sake. On second thought though, I didn’t want to confuse my grandmother when she sent out my birthday card.

As I slid my timecard into the machine, it let out the familiar electronic stapling sound that’s become so pivotal to my fleeting happiness.

“Free for another day”, I mumbled to myself as I put on my hat, gloves and scarf.

As I walked out of the basement exit of Douglas Walker High School, the cold air stung my face like a swarm of bees. It was still dark out. The sun would just start to make it’s appearance as I was opening the front door to my house; assuming it took me the usual time to get home.

As I began to walk down the ice-covered driveway of the school towards Mulberry St., I tried not to think about the fact that I had to come back there at 10 P.M. to do it all over again. No friends. No dates. No parties. Just another night of cleaning the high school I used to attend.

As I hit Mulberry St. and began walking home, I began to contemplate my life. You tend to do that when it’s gotten as far off track as mine had. I should have been grateful for the job that I had. As a convicted felon at 24 years old, employers were not exactly lining up at my door to hire me.

On paper, they should have been. I graduated cum laude from New York University two and a half years ago. I was slated to work for one of the top law firms in New York City after graduation. I already had a conditional offer and was supposed to start a week after graduation.

You don’t have to be a member of MENSA to realize that it never happened.

Mostly due to the frigid cold, my mind went blank for the remainder of my walk home that morning.

As I made the turn onto Winterberry Run thirty minutes later, I couldn’t help but think about where I would be right now if it wasn’t for that night. One night that seemed to never end. One night that I had to pay for every day of my life.

I walked up the front steps of my house and put my key into the brass lock of our front door. I could see the kitchen lights on from the porch, so I knew my father was already awake.

As I felt the warm air from inside hit my face, I exhaled loudly. The familiar smell of my house was welcoming despite the fact that I wasn’t the most welcomed guest. If it was up to my father, I would have been out after the accident, but my mother knew I couldn’t afford to live on my own.

Even though he was one of the toughest trial lawyers in New York, my father had a difficult time saying no to my mother.

I took my boots off and hung my jacket inside of the closet. As I closed the closet door, my father looked up from the book he was reading at the table; reading glasses halfway down his nose, coffee in hand.

“How was it?” he mumbled unenthusiastically.

“Same as always. I think I finally having the mopping pattern down” I said jokingly.

My father’s sense of humor had evaporated since I became a convicted felon. At least when it came to me it had.  

“That’s just wonderful” he said as he immediately went back to reading his book.

I knew that it was futile to try to keep the conversation going. He wouldn’t forget the embarrassment that I caused him anytime soon.  

Realizing that I lost another battle, I headed upstairs to get some well needed rest. The quality of sleep you get after working a graveyard shift is about the worst sleep you can get. I usually woke up more exhausted than I was when I went to sleep.

I closed the door to my bedroom and changed into my worn Douglas Walker Football sweatshirt and sweatpants. Laying down on my bed, I stared up at the ceiling wondering how long it would take me to fall asleep that morning.

At least when I was mopping, it gave my mind something to focus on albeit poorly. When I was lying in bed staring up at the ceiling, my mind seemed to review every poor decision I’d ever made.

Never to be disappointed, my mind started to think about the one night that changed everything. The night that I could never stop reliving.

Two and a half years prior on a warm May night, I was leaving a graduation party with two of my best friends from college, Ryan Hall and Dan Riley. We had met the first day at a campus mixer and were a trio ever since.

The party had been at a friend’s apartment just off campus. Everyone was letting loose that night. We had all just graduated earlier that day and would soon be parting ways. This was our last official time to have fun together.

I forgot to mention that it was our third stop of the evening. The first stop had been at Ryan’s apartment where we polished off half a liter of vodka in less than twenty minutes. Just to get the night started we said.

The second stop was at our neighborhood bar, O’Leary’s, where we spent too many nights the last four years. I felt confident that I would never step foot in that bar again after that.

While I thought we were only there for about an hour, the police later told me that we had actually been there for three. It would make sense that my perception was far off as I lost count of how many drinks I had early on.

I usually kept it under control when I knew I had to drive, but that night I didn’t want to miss out. I was the only one of us that had a car on campus and got stuck being the taxi. Looking back, I had almost no recollection of leaving O’Leary’s, but somehow, we made it to Larry Wilson’s apartment for our third stop without an issue.

The last thing I remembered at Larry’s was spilling a beer all over his counter. I would have to rely on the police again to tell me how long we had been there. An hour and a half based on the witnesses at the party.

The police report would help me to understand the events that unfolded after leaving Larry’s apartment with Ryan and Dan. I was told that several people tried to stop me from driving, but I wouldn’t listen. It was only a mile back home I told everyone. If I only gave up the keys that night.

For some unknown reason, I still had a copy of the police report in my desk drawer. I got up, walked over to my desk and pulled it out. Since I had zero memory of the accident, the report would probably clear things up better than I could. I’ll skip to the important parts.

“Upon speaking to several witnesses, it was determined that Andrews, Riley and Hall left Wilson’s apartment at approximately 00:30 hours. Andrews was driving the vehicle; Riley was the front right seat passenger and Hall was the back-left seat passenger. Upon leaving the apartment complex, Andrews began to drive East on Rt. 32. Upon reaching the intersection of Evergreen Rd., Rogers failed to stop at the red light. At that point in time, a second vehicle being driven by Elaine Easton was traveling through the intersection coming from the right side of Andrews. At that point in time, the front end of Easton’s vehicle contacted the front end of Andrew’s vehicle, causing Andrew’s vehicle to flip over. At that time, Riley was immediately ejected from the vehicle and killed on impact. Later examination found that Riley was not wearing a seatbelt. Hall remained inside of the vehicle however, later examination also found that he was not wearing a seatbelt and suffered life threatening injuries. Wilson suffered serious facial injuries during the accident and was transported to Bayshore General Hospital. While shaken, Andrews was not injured during the accident.”

I was the only one in the accident that was not seriously injured or killed. Dan Riley’s life ended that warm May evening in the middle of Rt. 32. Ryan Hall survived, but wished he hadn’t. His spine was crushed, and he was paralyzed from the neck down. It took 4 surgeries to make Elaine Wilson recognizable again to her family.

When I was arrested and breath tested by the police, I was found to have been over three times the legal blood alcohol content. Due to Dan’s death and the seriousness of the injuries, I was charged with felony manslaughter. A new law had gone into effect the year prior which allowed someone to be charged with manslaughter if they had killed someone else while driving drunk

This had been the third serious accident involving alcohol around NYU that school year and they made an example of me, as I deserved. I was convicted and sentenced to 5 years in prison. I was released after two years in prison and sentenced to 15 years of probation.

The sentence that I was given was nothing compared to the sentence I had to live with. I ruined the lives of three people because I wanted to have a good time.

After getting out of prison 6 months ago, I had to beg and plead with the head custodian of the high school to hire me to work the graveyard shift. He remembered me as one of the few students that ever thanked him for the job he did.

Due to the fact that I now had a felony on my record, they would never let me work around the students during the daytime hours. I would have to live with that label forever.

As I closed my eyes and tried to block the memory of that night out of my head, I began to wonder how it all happened so quickly.

I remembered a warning my father gave me when I was leaving for college. He told me that one bad decision could ruin your whole life.

If I could only go back and listen to his advice now I would. I wish that I could. It’s too late for that.

All I could do was lay in my childhood bed and wonder about my life gone awry.