Off the Wagon

Christian Contarin A ray of angelic light hit me through the crack of the hotel room drapes as if a sharpshooter’s rifle was aimed at me from a distance. The room was empty. My parents had already left for the morning. They had never left me alone in such a place before. My stomach growled like monsters in a bottomless pit. However, I treated this morning like any other. I threw off my bed sheets, half hanging onto the floor and proceeded to put on my bright canary coloured swim shorts and my cherry red Playa Del Carmen tank top. I let out a loud, deep yawn while stretching my upper back and arms, spreading them out like a vulture’s wings. I caught a shocking whiff of odour from my armpit, clearly a sign I needed a nice cold shower to relieve me of this sticky humid air. I hopped off my bed and did not put on my flip-flops as I usually would. However, I hated walking bare feet unless they were on the warm, woolly fibers of the carpet in my room - but I continued my routine and made my way to the washroom, grabbing my Old Spice deodorant off of the rich mahogany dresser centered between the two beds. As I approached the washroom, I caught a glimpse of sunlight out of the corner of my left eye. The door to our room had been left open ever so slightly. I spent a moment trying to think why my parents did not shut it, with no conclusion. Nevertheless, I carried on to the washroom. When I reached the sink, I placed down my deodorant, unsheathed my toothbrush from its container, and brushed away. I did not hydrate as much as I should have the night before, resulting in my gums to bleed quite a bit due to my dried out mouth. I rinsed my mouth with my mom’s mouthwash, underestimating the sharp pain that hit the little cuts in my mouth, feeling as if they were being ripped open by razorblades. I violently spit out the liquid, splashing around the circumference of the sink as well as hitting my shirt. Wow, things really are not going my way this morning. I undressed, throwing my clothes into the corner between the opened door and the bathroom wall. I turned the hot water tap a few times and ran my fingers through the pouring liquid before turning on the shower. I swung the shower curtains open, the plastic rings scraped against the metal bar making a sound almost like a blade being sharpened by a blacksmith. I stepped in cautiously, making sure not to slip, and closed the curtains behind me. I soaked in the cold shower for quite some time before getting out and drying myself off. Feeling refreshed and clean, I put on a fresh button up floral shirt, a pair of bright plaid shorts, my favourite Patriots hat, my flip-flops, my bracelet and made my way to the door to start my day.

It was already almost noon; I made a b-line for the snack bar, as my stomach would not shut up since I woke up. Before making my way down the stairs to the main level of the resort, I paused to look at the beautiful morning view of the ocean. I leaned over the dark brown, shellacked railing and stared off at the horizon. I could hear the palm trees swaying in the wind, waves crashing against rocks as they approached the shore, the singing of birds in the distance, all so harmonic – like nothing I had ever heard at home. I could have stayed there, listening, all day. It was therapeutic in a way, clearing the mind of any stress or anxiety. However, I was not surprised to be interrupted by my impatient stomach. I made my way to the stairs, just around the bright blue wall of the building. I took a hard step on the first plateau of the stair case and immediately slipped, grabbing on to the nearest object, which happened to be the railing – probably saving me from a cracked skull. My heart was racing. I had gone from such a relaxing, calm state, to one of extreme shock in a matter of seconds. After regaining my balance, I gently stepped down the stairs until I reached the ground level. Today is just not my day. I rounded the corner and followed the narrow path surrounded in beautiful florescent flowers until I could see the snack bar. I began to wonder where on earth my parents were, as I still had not seen them. Just as I thought this, I noticed my dad at the bar with my mom nowhere to be seen. I picked up the pace of my strides and approached my father, as he was acting quite odd. Before I reached him, he turned around and spotted me, yelling my name as he pranced toward me. Odd. When he got closer, I began to smell the strong stench of alcohol. My empty stomach felt sick. It cannot be my dad. He began rambling and I could only notice the slur in his speech. I could tell he was trying much too hard to act more like himself. Sober. My muscles began to seize up and a strong pressure began to build from the pit of my stomach upwards. Trying to avoid making a scene with all these people around, having fun, I cursed at him and stormed away. I made my way to my room and I could hear his staggered, wet, plunger like footsteps behind me. I could feel my blood boiling and an emptiness in my chest. I reached the wet steps I slipped on earlier and with no regard to the earlier consequence I jumped up the stairs, missing every other step and landing with hard, ground shaking stomps. I could hear the sound of my dad slipping and crawling up the stairs as he dragged behind me. He cannot even f***ing stand up. I arrived at my room, rummaging through my pockets for my key card until I found it in my back pocket. I unlocked the door and ran in, slamming it behind me. The vibrations from the heavy, wooden door hitting its frame knocked the hanging towels in the washroom onto the floor. I went and lay silent on my bed, staring aimlessly at a groove in the ceiling. Silence. Silence upon my mind. Silence upon the room. Silence upon the world. I took long, deep breathes trying to calm myself down and it began to work until I heard my father once again, outside the door. It sounding like he was trying to claw himself into the room but he must have just been trying to keep his balance by using the door as support. I hope he lost his key. The door swung open and he charged in, pleading for forgiveness. My mind went blank. A surge of strength overcame my entire body - much like being plugged into an electrical outlet. My vision became blurred as I sprung up off my bed. I swung at my father, knocking him to the ground, unable to get up. I turned and noticed my mother standing in the entrance to the room, with the look of awe and dismay on her face. She knew what I was feeling and probably felt the same. Before she could get a word out, I roared out of the room, brushing her shoulder on the way out. I made my way back to the beachfront, glancing at the view from the railing as I passed by it. I heard nothing. No waves, no birds, no trees, nothing. My blood began to settle, but I could not feel anything. I raised my right hand up to my face and looked at how dark and bruised it was, much like an old peach. I did not care. My mind was still blank and silence was still surrounding me. My stomach was no longer growling. As I approached the beach, I glanced at the bar and I could feel the void in my chest. I stared at the bar stool that was occupied moments ago. Nothing. I turned and walked towards an empty beach chair, isolated from the rest and sat. I looked around, still with my blurry vision, and saw nobody. A beach covered with enthused tourists, now covered with black sand and empty shells. I looked up at the sky and noticed a thick, dense cloud covering the bright rays of the sunlight that had woke me up earlier that morning. I looked back down at the ocean. The beautiful, calming ocean. I saw only shadows and darkness, no horizon. Once again, I listened, but there was nothing. Silence. Emptiness.