When he came to he didn’t know where was and there was a naked woman on top of him. She was facing the other direction so he wasn’t sure who she was, but he could here her tits slapping. He figured she liked him since she was moving up and down on him like a piston pumping faster and faster trying to make his engine rev harder and harder.
It was barely running though.
After she blew a head gasket it was all hugs and kisses. Then she asked for the cash. He paid her what was owed and told her to leave. He stumbled to the bathroom, slid his ring back on his finger and washed the night off of his face. He stared into the mirror half expecting someone else to be looking right back at him.
When he was younger and his parents were the church going kind of people they made him attend Sunday School each week. He learned about all of the different characters in the Old Testament, Prophets, priests, Kings and even ordinary people that were called by God. The punishment that the people received who disobeyed God dually frightened and fascinated him.
After learning about these stories he would always be on his best behavior on the ride home from church. He even tried not to back talk his mother for a few days, but by the end of the week he would usually forget about the punishment that God cast on people. The next Sunday though he would get his weekly dose and be good again for a little while. He always figured that’s why people went to church a few days a week. They had a bad memory and needed to be reminded why they should be good. It made sense to him.
Along with going to Sunday school there was another memory that stuck with him from his childhood. When he was 12 years old, him and his friends would ride their bikes to the biggest hill in the county. It was across town and about 20 minutes from his house on bike. They would get up really early on Saturday mornings and ride out to it and all day long they would peddle up to the top of the hill and come screaming down it as fast as they could, like they were little engines and their feet were pistons moving up and down, pumping faster and faster making them reach top speeds.
Once they reached the bottom of the hill they’d throw their hands up in the air and the wind would blow right through them. Years later he realized that those Saturdays spent on his bike were the most alive he was ever going to feel.
After riding up and down on that hill all day the boys would all ride back to their houses for dinner. One particular Saturday after being out all day he came home and his father was standing in the kitchen staring off at nothing. He tried talking to him, but he was unresponsive, so he just leaned in the door way watching him. Every once in a while his father’s eyes would dart and his head would jerk and his focus would be in another direction, but there would never be anything of significance there. He was so terrified that he just stood there watching him for half an hour waiting for him to finally acknowledge him or to at least utter a word. He never did. So the boy finally decided to slowly walk past and go to his room
He laid awake all night wondering if his father was going to be there in the morning just staring at the walls. When the sun came up the next morning he could hear his mother making breakfast in the kitchen so he cracked his door and looked out. His Father was sitting at the table reading the paper, drinking coffee and his mother told him to come out and eat before his eggs got cold.
Everything was normal.
The next week at Sunday school God’s wrath was being exemplified through King Nebuchadnezzar’s fate. He apparently pissed God off so bad through his lack of humility that God struck him with a fever that made the proud king go crazy for 7 years. His young mind started working, maybe that’s what happened to his father? God was punishing him.
His relationship with his father was never strong, so he’d never know of his father’s potential wickedness, but that night along with many other similar occurrences stayed with him through the years.
As he stared at the bathroom wall he counted the tiles and contemplated the color scheme. Blue and black seemed a bit dated for this kind of hotel and who ever tiled this bathroom should’ve gone a couple of rows higher on the border. His eyes then moved to the shower curtain.
He wanted to look in the mirror once more and see his face; look into his eyes, but he couldn’t control his movements. It was unlike a seizure because his body control was precise. He just wasn’t running the show anymore. Once his eyes finally honed in on the mirror he was hoping he could figure out what was going on by making eye contact, but the only person he noticed in the mirror was the maid standing in the doorway staring at him.