Bottled Up Pain

The heat of a bright light shining from above pierces through my retina as my eyelids slowly flutter open “Ouch! Where on earth am I?” With my eyes alert, I look up in awe to see a sea of blue and white drifting away from me. The firmness of what feels like a New York City sidewalk sends an ache coursing through my lower back. I must have passed here after the bar. Except, the suspicious silence which envelops me, feels far from the familiar sounds of the honking yellow cabs in traffic, far from the aggressive slamming of car doors and the pounding of yellow timberlands on the filthy sidewalk. I inhale deeply, anticipating the pungent aroma of garbage, but my lungs are met with a surprising saltiness. Quicker than I can think, my body picks itself up to see a vast ocean outstretched before me… In an instant, thick fog envelops the air around me, my breathing quickens and I feel my heart throbbing in fear. Where am I? I dare to look down at my feet and confirm that I’m not standing on a filthy street, but am instead balancing atop the dark weathered wood of a small moving boat. Turning in a circle, my eyes sweep across the immeasurable sea — I’m completely alone.  

How did I get here? Thirsty for some kind of explanation, I scan every inch of this stifling boat. There is nothing. The boat is devoid of all weight apart from my shivering body, standing pitifully protected from the cold sting of the air by a thin ripped shirt and dirt stained joggers. “I have to get back on land” I mutter in desperation. Impossible. There is no paddle in sight to navigate this boat. I think for a moment — “What if I use my hands? F*ck it, I’ll try it. It’s not like I have any other bright ideas.” Kneeling down on the center of the boat, I plunge my boney hands into the freezing water. Pushing water back on the left, one, then back on the right, two, I have the fervor of a man who has been buried alive, frantically trying to claw his way back to daylight. I keep paddle for what feels like hours, truly, I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been. All I know is that when I finally pull my pruned hands out of the water, the sun has begun to descend toward the horizon, casting a golden glow on the water’s surface. It was the summer I had just turned twelve, Mom was determined we go swimming that day. I didn’t want to go, I never liked the water like she did. But it was the first time I had seen Mom so excited since the divorce, so I gave in. I shouldn’t have given in.  

My mother was right, when we arrived at the beach, the ocean glistened under the sun. She was charming with her rhythmic movements, she laid a seductive trap and we fell right into it. “Mom” I said as I tapped on her shoulder, “I think I’m going to stay here and watch you, swimming isn't my thing.” She smiled reassuringly and said “Oh Eli, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Remember, As someone thinks within themselves, so they are.” “I don’t get it.” “Honey, it means that you must be confident in your ability to swim, so that you can conquer your fear.” I smiled back at her, my mother was always right. I grabbed her hand and we bolted into the ocean. At first, she welcomed us with outstretched arms, Mom and I bathed in laughter as we splashed each other with the warm water. It wasn’t until the sun began its slow descent, that she turned wild with envy at our happiness. Her once affectionate embrace transformed into a suffocating grasp that robbed Mom away from me forever.

What would Mom think of me now?  My weekdays are spent trying to scrape together rent by selling lousy paintings on the subway which I have pathetically tried to disguise as “Art”. What a failure. On weekends, I scour bar after bar, using my best smile to sweet talk bartenders into giving me free drinks. For years now, I’ve been hiding the pain my mother’s vacancy has left me with. I’ve been hiding it in bottles. Bottles of beer, wine, vodka, any bottle really, as long as it’s solid enough to carry the burden of my pain. What an Alcoholic. Mom would be ashamed. 

The sound of something moving beneath me startles me back to reality. My gaze shifts from the water over to the wooden floor. I  follow the path of an object rolling toward me, I stop it with my foot and pick it up. It’s a green bottle with a white label that reads: “Gin”. 

My stomach growls as I twist open the cap and lift the bottle up to my mouth. Put it down Eli. You can’t keep doing this sh*t. Especially now. You need to keep a clear head if you’re ever going to escape this death trap. I throw the heavy bottle out into the distance with all my might, watching it sink into obscurity. I have to fight back the urge to swim after it. “Let Me Out!” I cry into oblivion, I can’t die here. I look up toward the sky, half expecting it to lend me an answer. A veil of melancholy begins to drape over it, as though we share the same heart. Abruptly, gray clouds encircle my boat. The wind churns with rage. A storm is coming.

I feel like a broken sail. Each gust of wind rocks the boat from side to side like a drunk man dancing.  My body is unable to resist the overpowering force of the wind. I lose my balance and fall onto the old wooden floor. Why is this happening to me? Water hisses in my ear, reminding me of the unforgiving sea, she has not forgotten, she has come back for me. My body lays flat, clinging to the sides of the boat. Listening out for some kind of sign, I hear the very familiar sound of glass. I cautiously edge my face downward and an army of bottles making their way toward me. I spot the green one labeled Gin, another reads Beer, Vodka, Whiskey, Tequila, Rum, Brandy, Wine, they all corner me at the back of the boat. Perhaps I should open one, the smell might ease the sea sickness. No. I’ll just take one sip, then, I won’t feel the storm. No. If I drink them all, it will be like the storm never even happened. No! I remember the last thing Mom told me “As someone thinks within themselves, so they are.” Mom was always right. I can’t keep hiding how messed up I am with these bottles. I kick the bottles aside and rise to my feet. Locking eyes with the raging tempest I declare: “I AM THE ONLY THING IN CONTROL OF MYSELF!” A weight lifts from my body as I feel myself dropping to the floor. 

“Caw, Caw, Caw” I awaken to what sounds like seagulls overhead. Momentarily disoriented by an alien sound, my body tenses as I leap to my feet prepared to defend myself. I notice that the storm is gone, a quick wave of calm rushes through me. The bottles that once threatened me, have disappeared. The sky is clear and the sea sways placidly around my boat. Was that all a dream?  Searching for confirmation, I catch a glimpse of a small puddle of water invading the boat’s front bow. It wasn’t a dream. I’m still trapped in the middle of the sea. I sit down on the wooden floor and look out into the distance, so much for surviving a deadly storm. Then, my eyes open up in wonder, as a tiny speck of land begins to emerge in the distance. 

END