Suddenly Facing Reality

CHAPTER 1

As I leaned over, with closed eyes, to shut off my alarm clock, I should have felt some excitement. I couldn’t have been less motivated to stand up and face the world. This was typical of me. It was supposed to be a special morning. I was finished with my formal schooling, and it was graduation day. I wished it felt like a great day was ahead of me, but it simply felt like any other horribly hungover morning. My head was throbbing and I felt disoriented as my eyes reluctantly opened.

Scanning my bedroom with blurry vision, I could barely see any of the carpet with all the piles of dirty laundry and empty beer bottles polluting my space. I had become accustomed to living in a completely unhealthy environment. The sight of a sink full of dishes, old pizza boxes lining the walls, and overflowing garbage cans had become the norm. I knew I wasn’t living up to my potential, but I found comfort in telling myself that I would only experience college once. I had allowed myself to indulge in a dangerous sense of carelessness and freedom. I lacked structure, but I wasn’t discouraged, because I viewed my college mentality as a temporary state of mind.

For one extraordinary morning, I knew I’d have to focus. I turned my bathroom radio up loud to some classic rock and took a cold shower. Most mornings I enjoyed waking up gradually to the sounds of sports talk radio banter, but on this day I had to get energized. Upon toweling off and looking into my closet of unfashionably dated clothes, I remembered that my outfit for the day wouldn’t be the usual T-shirt and jeans. My outfit would be the mandatory black cap and gown. Everything started to feel slightly different. I felt a bit of pride in myself as I began to dress, but I wasn’t gonna go overboard with self-praise. It did take five years, and I certainly wasn’t the valedictorian. I enjoyed most of my classes, but college was an experience I enjoyed out of the classroom as well.

Nevertheless, I made it to the finish line, and the time had come to honor my accomplishment. My lackadaisical approach to academics was nothing to brag about. In a way, it was quite a feat to complete all of my courses without fully applying myself. My chronic lack of motivation wasn’t only due to excessive partying. I can also point to some of the wild characters I encountered along the way as a reason why my attention strayed away from the classroom. I extended myself in various directions during college, and had lost my direction at times. I’d like to say I became a deeply insightful person with a wealth of new knowledge, but with the hangover I was experiencing, every thought was just a little fuzzy.

I wove my way through the lumps of passed-out, drunken guests on the floor, grabbed my keys from under the couch, and exited quietly. I played the where-did-I-park-the-car game for a good twenty minutes before finding it over by a pawnshop near my apartment. My schedule was thrown off already. I usually prided myself on being punctual, but for the most important event of my life, I was sure to be late. I had to pick up my mom at her downtown hotel, and then file into the graduation ceremony a half hour later. My mom had just arrived in San Diego from the Bay Area and was ready for her proud motherly moment. I was hoping my tardiness wouldn’t disappoint her, but I also knew that her happiness would ultimately shine through.

After a pleasant greeting, I hurried my mom into my car and raced off to the graduation. I couldn’t wait for the commencement ceremony to end because it would inevitably be too long and formal. I wasn’t excited about waiting for a few hours just to hear my name called. I had been much more at ease during my middle school and high school graduations. There was just something about growing older that made me desire the spotlight less. As a kid, I had no inhibitions, but as I gradually stumbled into adulthood, I seemingly became so self-conscious that a simple graduation caused some trepidation. I really hated that progression.

Having my mom in town made the day special for me. She was a genuinely positive lady to be around and always had supportive things to say. She had an easygoing personality that usually had a calming effect on me. Growing up in her home was easy. Her food was wonderful, her advice was helpful, and her rules weren’t too strict. She let me learn my own lessons. She provided me with the foundation I needed to grow up in a nurturing environment, but also gave me enough freedom to develop my identity at an early age.

My mom was a busy lady. She taught English classes at a community college and also had a weekly column in the local newspaper. It was an opinion column, which gave her a chance to present her views on anything from politics to local current events. Once a month, she would also put together an article on cooking, and she’d include a new recipe. She even published a few self-help books along the way. She always seemed to have a project in front of her, and she almost never vacationed. To her, vacationing was more stressful than work. Whenever she tried to give herself any leisure time, she felt like she was missing out on something in her professional life. She enjoyed multitasking. People held her in high esteem around the neighborhood.

It was nice to have a small cheering section, which included my mother and my best friend, Richie Telfair, on my big day. Richie lived around the corner from the house I grew up in, and he was practically raised under our roof. Most of my childhood and adolescent memories involved Richie. He had always been more like a brother than just a friend. We pretty much relied on one another growing up. He had my back and I had his, no matter how much trouble we got ourselves into. Richie was an only child, and I was an only child, but there were major differences between us. I was raised in a nice home with meals on the table, snacks in the cupboard, and clean clothes to wear. Richie’s home was the opposite. It was a sad place to be. It was dark and dreary, filled with cigarette smoke and dust. His parents were always fighting and arguing. It was undoubtedly a toxic environment for a kid to grow up in.

When Richie was young, he constantly witnessed his parents drinking heavily and using an assortment of recreational drugs. His mom gave birth to him when she was eighteen years old. She didn’t seem like the attentive type. I don’t think he ever received the proper love that a child needs, which explains why he was always at our house. His parents were kids themselves and weren’t mature enough to focus on their son. He was able to do his homework at our house and enjoy some serenity and silence when he needed it. His house looked like a junkyard, and it was constantly filled with junkies.

Looking back, I’m able view my post-college experience as a fairly interesting journey, although it wasn’t exactly a smooth one. My name is Adam Elson, and I can finally reflect on a series of sudden changes that shaped my life as I know it.

CHAPTER 2

My dad was unable to attend my graduation. He would only be there in spirit. He’d passed away two years prior, at the age of fifty-six. Cancer took his life way too early. It was one of those days when I’d really miss him. He was perfect in large gatherings; he always loved a crowd, and the crowd loved him even more.

My dad was a unique individual. He wasn’t a family man because it simply wasn’t his nature. He was not a homebody. He was nomadic in the sense that he jumped around from place to place and job to job. He preferred to be on the go. My dad was known for his sense of humor. Nobody made me laugh harder or was more enjoyable to talk about life with than my father. The way he told a story was captivating from the opening sentence. He was a spontaneous man with a big heart. He had a tremendous love for music and art, and enjoyed discussing his passions with me. People wanted to be around him. Unfortunately, on an important day when I wanted him around, he was gone.

I don’t know why, but I couldn’t cry at his funeral. Maybe I was too busy comforting the others who appeared to be mourning harder than I was. The reality was that nobody was grieving more than I, but I had a way of concealing my emotions.

I vowed to always carry on what I had learned from my dad. After his death, I still felt his presence around me. I found comfort in believing he was watching over me.

Even though my dad left the house when I was young, he stayed in touch with me up until the day he died. The divorce wasn’t overly traumatic for me, but I do wish he could’ve stayed. I initially missed hearing him play the piano in the house at night, but I eventually got used to the silence left behind. My mom started raising me alone from the time I was eight years old. Although my dad was no longer under the same roof as I was after the split, he remained a large part of my life. I had to give him some credit for staying involved. When he was in town, he made sure to take me out for a good time. I knew in my heart that my dad loved me, so there wasn’t any true animosity coming from my direction. The divorce probably shaped my personality in some ways, but I didn’t spend much time analyzing that topic.

As for Richie, his parents tragically died when we were fourteen. They were killed in a car crash. Richie’s dad had one hobby in life, and that was collecting old broken-down race cars and attempting to make them function again. He used to race the cars from time to time at amateur competitions, but he never fully pursued a career as a professional race car driver. Instead, the pile of metal parts just stacked up in their driveway over time. Their home was an eyesore for the neighborhood. Richie’s dad never seemed to be in a rush to clean up the scene.

The last time he brought a car back to life, he was quick to take it around the block at full speed. With Richie’s mother in the passenger’s seat, he collided with a rocky hillside just five minutes after leaving their home. Sadly, that turned out to be the grand finale for the young parents. I remember seeing fire trucks and ambulances zoom down my hill and hoping it wasn’t regarding somebody I knew. We came from a very small rural town, where everybody knew everybody, so it was likely that any tragedy would have some sort of connection to me. This one certainly did.

Richie’s dad was actually a skilled driver in his younger days, but he apparently made one mistake that resulted in a couple of lives being taken prematurely. They weren’t very social people and always seemed to be angry about something. Richie’s parents were the first drunks I had ever encountered. As a kid, I thought seeing intoxicated people was somewhat entertaining. They were always a spectacle, but not in a good way. The car crash that took their lives was extra troubling for Richie because he never got to say goodbye. He was left with so many questions.

My dad’s death was also difficult for Richie. My dad was a father figure to Richie after his own had gone. Richie was left with the feeling of losing two fathers in one lifetime. It’s safe to say that Richie considered my home and family to be his as well. Most of my favorite childhood memories included him. My dad used to take us to the same restaurant every Sunday that he was around to watch sports and eat lunch. There was a lot of bonding on those outings. Our spot was called the Big Mountain Brewery. The whole town seemed to assemble at this brewery on Sundays. My dad would sample some of the ales on tap while Richie and I would enjoy the burgers and endless baskets of onion rings. We would discuss our favorite teams and eat until it hurt. It was heaven. It was the same routine every time, and it never got old. There were a lot of laughs during those meals at the brewery.

My dad put laughter at the top of his priority list as comedy was instilled in my life at an early age. He used to take me to comedy clubs in San Francisco all the time. Even when I was too young to get in, he would pay off the bouncers to let us sit in the back. He introduced me to comedy, which became my first love. My dad was a hilarious man and seemed to have an endless supply of jokes.

CHAPTER 3

I went through the motions of a traditional graduation celebration. We went out for a nice dinner, took some photos, and made some toasts. I didn’t want to party excessively to celebrate my big achievement. It was definitely out of the ordinary for me, but with my mom around, I wanted to present myself as a respectable young man who was ready for the professional world. I always knew I would have to curb the partying once college ended. I just didn’t realize how abrupt that transition would be. College was officially over, and it was time to move forward. It felt as if only a few minutes had passed before I was saying farewell to my mom at the airport and hello to the rest of my life.

I blamed the late party nights for my lack of motivation during my college years. I didn’t continue playing any sports. I didn’t join any clubs or get involved with any student organizations. Quite frankly, I didn’t have all that much ambition during my college years. I felt unprepared to attack the professional world, which was the opposite of how I wanted to feel. I majored in English because I had always loved writing, but I never felt I was being prepared for a career. I didn’t even know what jobs could potentially come out of my major. I definitely wasn’t planning on being a teacher. I had nothing against teaching, but I knew I wasn’t mature enough to lead a classroom. My résumé was blank, and my wardrobe was a compilation of thrift store threads and hand-me-downs from older friends throughout the years. Because I didn’t own any suits or ties, I believed I needed an immediate change in my appearance. I couldn’t envision myself at a job interview. I still looked ready to tailgate a college football game.

As I returned to my apartment after graduating, I noticed that the place was messier than when I’d left. There was a high-end bottle of tequila with a note on the kitchen counter. I figured my roommate Eddie wanted to congratulate me on my accomplishment; however, the note included a major announcement that would alter my immediate future. Eddie had decided to move back to his home state of Wyoming in order to save money. He apologized for leaving me with an apartment full of garbage, dirty old furniture, and stacks of bills. He had swiftly loaded his rusted old Dodge Ram with all his belongings, including his clothes, bed, TV, and beer bong. Just like that, he was gone, and I was left living alone.

Despite Eddie’s sudden departure, I wasn’t angry with him or really surprised by his note. He was actually a pretty nice guy. He’d brought plenty of ladies back to our place throughout the years, making him a fairly valuable roommate. We partied a lot together, but our bond never really grew into anything special. As much as I wanted to like Eddie, he was way too unreliable and flaky. He seemed content to live without big goals. He never put pressure on himself, which was oddly impressive. I was different. I was constantly worrying about the future and thinking of how I was going to succeed in life. I exhausted myself with some of my concerns. Eddie never visibly appeared to be bothered by anything. He was just happy to float through life. I certainly didn’t want to float through life, but I noticed that Eddie’s nonchalant demeanor had rubbed off on me during my last couple of years in college.

He also wrote in the note that he was going to try to finish up his schooling at some community college in Laramie. He had completed maybe three classes in three years, so the education system in Wyoming would have a wonderful challenge with Eddie. I wished him well, even though his hasty exit was far from respectable.

My focus soon shifted to cleaning up my surroundings. I needed to go to the store for garbage bags, detergent, paper towels, a plunger, and some bleach. I started to write myself a list, but it turned out to be a total waste of time. Money was scarce. I had no income and absolutely no work ethic, but I did have a new bottle of tequila that wouldn’t go untouched. It became obvious that I needed to make some immediate changes.

CHAPTER 4

Throughout college, I was able to get by on my sports gambling winnings. I had found a bookie during my freshman year in the dorms. Luckily, that turned out to be a steady moneymaker for me. I brought in more cash than I ever thought possible. What started off as a little hobby became an obsession. I put more time into studying my bets than I did on my schoolwork. I rarely lost. I must have had the gambling gods looking over me, because I was able to pay for my food and utility bills with my winnings. I can only remember a couple of losses during my glorious run. I really had it down to a science. I analyzed the patterns of certain players and coaches, which helped me gain an advantage. I studied sports as if they were my major. My bookie initially viewed me as some naive kid who didn’t really understand sports. I told him that betting on the games would make them more fun for me to watch, which was honestly how it all started. As time went on, I started to get a grasp on what I was doing, and it eventually started to feel like a real job to me.

At the grocery store, I handed over my last fifty dollars to pay for the cleaning supplies. That last fifty meant I was done betting on sports. It wasn’t an honest way to make money, and I knew my hot streak couldn’t last forever. It felt as if I were permanently saying goodbye to gambling at that moment. I didn’t want to develop an addiction, so I thought stopping cold turkey was the right idea. I promised myself that the next paycheck I earned would come from a legitimate job. However, for the time being, I resorted to calling home to beg for food money. I was truly pathetic.

Most of my college friends were planning to move away after graduation. I hadn’t figured out my next step. Eddie had left me with the task of dealing with the apartment for the remainder of our lease. I didn’t wanna live there anymore, and I definitely couldn’t handle paying all the rent. Our lease was set to expire at the end of that summer, and I couldn’t wait. The apartment complex was filled with a bunch of young students who refused to adopt normal sleeping habits. It was always loud and rarely peaceful. Also, I was feeling lonely for the first time in my life.

One week went by before I called Richie. I would inevitably need Richie’s advice. He was incredibly street-smart, and I relied on his encouragement and insight to help me out with any problematic situation. For a guy from such an unfortunate background, Richie sure came off as somebody with a lot of confidence in his capabilities. He enjoyed coming up with solutions, and I loved hearing what he had to say.

Before I was finished telling him of the recent turmoil that had just gone down, he proposed to move down to San Diego to live with me. He had the idea of getting a job and splitting the rent each month. I didn’t even have to plead with him.

Adam, you know I’m here for you, he said over the phone. I’ll roll down there right now. There’s really no reason I can’t do it. I’d love to be in San Diego. We have a good time every time I visit. I’m in.

That’s fantastic, I replied. You don’t realize how great this is gonna be. I really appreciate you coming down.

The world is our playground, Richie added. Just remember that.

What do you mean?

You’ll know one day.

He had nothing keeping him back in the old neighborhood. He was still drinking malt liquor every night with our old crew of high school buddies. That’s what we did back in our hometown. Our neighborhood surrounded a gathering area by the name of Walden Park. Growing up, we would frequently post up in the hills overlooking the park to simply hang out and unwind. Some people brought beer, while others brought weed. I never really had the desire to smoke anything, but I usually enjoyed a few cold ones.

Those days seemed to be a distant memory. The hills at Walden Park were where a lot of us grew up. It wasn’t only a spot to party. That area provided a place for us to get outside and think. It was a place where I could always find one of my friends or just sit alone staring off into the distance. There were giant boulders to sit on, tall trees to climb, and high green grass to walk through. It was nature’s playground at our own disposal. Even though our neighborhood was a beautiful place to live, Richie knew he had to eventually leave that scene.

He had so much potential, and we agreed that moving in with me would be a healthy change for him. I was genuinely appreciative of his latest decision. He had a way of sounding very convincing when he spoke. It may have been a bit of an act, but I was happy to be an audience member. He prided himself on his word and had never flaked in all the years I had known him.

In a sense, he was saving me. More than needing a roommate to help with rent, I knew his presence would keep me sane. Richie had a ton of energy, and his positive attitude was contagious. His true calling was probably acting, but whenever I brought it up, he would always change the subject. He believed that he was destined to make millions and rotate different women in and out of his life. He loved the idea of remaining single forever. Richie talked at a rapid pace and constantly interrupted himself with his own thoughts. The man was a spectacle. He was wide-eyed and jittery, and he knew it. Most importantly, he knew how to laugh at himself.

CHAPTER 5

After four boring days of wasting time in my apartment, Richie arrived in San Diego. He’d packed up his car with his few bare essentials and made the drive through the night. He traveled lightly. This was supposed to be the beginning of better things for both of us. I felt as if I’d been living without any direction, and I didn’t want that feeling to continue. We needed a plan of attack. Finding jobs would be our top priority.

On the first day of my new living situation with Richie, I woke up at eleven in the morning. By that time, Richie had already bought coffee, bagels, fresh fruit, and scones to set up a huge brunch for us. He also stocked the fridge with beer and picked up an application to work at the Federal Bank of San Diego. The bank was five stoplights down the road from us, which would be quite convenient for Richie. He was already looking like a person who’d lived in San Diego for a few years. The guy’s motor never stopped running. He was loaded with new plans and ideas. Unfortunately, his first idea would change our lives more than we ever anticipated.

Richie worked at a bank in our hometown and had no trouble getting hired immediately with his solid references and résumé. Our former baseball coach managed the bank back home and gave Richie his one and only letter of recommendation. It was good enough to get Richie the job. His people skills and charisma led to a very successful interview. During Richie’s training week in San Diego, he was told something that captured his attention. He learned that if a teller is getting robbed, the bank’s policy is to quietly give up the money with no questions asked. Richie was told that the bank always deals with the crime after the robber leaves. Apparently, all bank employees are told to honor any