Downward Spiral<\/span><\/strong><\/p>\n by<\/strong><\/p>\n Timothy Herrick<\/strong><\/p>\n \u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0Copyright 2002, held by author<\/p>\n He remembered something, maybe it was from when he used to read books or one of the Humanity classes he took before dropping out of community college, about how life is a circle and birth and death are connected and in the center of the circle was God. He forgot what religion or philosopher this circle was from. But he knew that the line of his life wasn\u2019t going to meet. It used to be more of an EKG reading with peaks and valleys, but it\u2019s no longer jagged, just a straight, and steady decline, beginning somewhere and ending some place lower.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Ten to Six Am. That was his shift for the past two years as head clerk at the Convention Center hotel. By the time he came home, Janey had left for work. But, since they saw very little of each other, they had less time to talk, thus less time to fight. By the time he left for work, she was either out with friends or deep into cable television.<\/p>\n He liked being alone in the apartment, the solitude when the rest of the world was in offices or stores. He drank vodka with ice and looked out the window. There was a time he would watch some news show, or listen to the radio. Current events. Baseball scores. Not any more. Life was just drinking, eating, pissing and shitting, or cutting his finger nails or shaving or brushing his teeth, the burdensome upkeep of the shell, all weak and wrinkling with barely any evidence of the youth that once was; the stranger looking back at him from the mirror.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The apartment had a view of the park. It was just a play ground, no grass, only a couple of trees, some benches, some swings, a see-saw and monkey bars. Every day, by late morning, the day school nearby marched a dozen or so kids there to play. It was hot and he hated air conditioning and he sat with his ice and his vodka and a glass. He\u2019d take off his clothes, sweat, listen to the chirping children, laughter, voices. He remembered stuff sometimes. There was a river and a dog and sometimes his father wasn\u2019t angry and would teach him the names of trees and birds. And a few drinks later, he wouldn\u2019t be thinking of anything. No memories, just the heat, the sounds from outside. He wouldn\u2019t remember pleasuring himself. He wouldn\u2019t remember going to the bed and passing out. It had become a ritual and his wife never mentioned the tissues she would find on the floor near the window.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Then one day, it was late August, Janey was home, still making coffee. She was usually gone and the coffee odor was only barely noticeable. Now it was strong, fresh, pungent. The smell made him cringe.. He drank about a cup an hour at work. By dawn, it was all he could smell or taste. The vodka cut through the residue. The idea was to forget, everything, including the most recent memories, be they of boredom or the meaningless conversations and tasks at work, or simply tactile, like the morning air hitting his face when he walked out of the hotel towards the bus stop.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019m not going to work today, I have to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He got a glass out of the cabinet, dropped in some ice, and got the bottle of Vodka out.\u00a0 Something had happened or was about to happen. She hadn\u2019t talked to him in weeks. Was there some money crisis he had over looked? He knew that change was inevitable, that everything was leading to or about death. When you\u2019re younger, it\u2019s about sex. When you\u2019re older, it\u2019s about death. Maybe even the sex was about death too, just seemed otherwise when it was intense and frequent and still new. \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cMrs. Nixon said she saw you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWho?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cShe lives in the apartment building across the street. We go to the same Mass. She had been sick for a long time, but for the past few weeks, she\u2019s been much better and said she saw you..\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cAt the window, Travis. During the day.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo? Is that all you have to say.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t know what else to say.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cShe told me that you watch the children and masturbate.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cIs it true?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI don\u2019t watch the children. I don\u2019t watch anybody. I just like to sit by the window. I didn\u2019t think anybody was watching me. I\u2019m not an exhibitionist.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThe children use that playground every day. I can\u2019t believe that\u2019s what you do.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cBut I don\u2019t..\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYou play with yourself.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI really don\u2019t remember.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI\u2019ve found evidence.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cEvidence?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 She walked into the other room, came out with a plastic bag which contained about a dozen used tissues. She dumped them on the table in front of him. \u201cShe told me last week, I couldn\u2019t believe it but I collected these from the floor for the past week. She said she was going to call the cops on you, but because we\u2019re friends, she wanted to tell me first to have me talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cWhat\u2019s there to talk about, the old crone is wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cThe tissues, Travis, the tissues.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cSo what? What I do is my business.\u00a0 Janey, how can you even think that, that I\u2019m some kind of degenerate. Children don\u2019t turn me on.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cI know I don\u2019t, you haven\u2019t touched me in months.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cYou haven\u2019t touched me either.\u201d\u00a0 He watched her wince, her bottom lip tremble. \u201cHey, it\u2019s just normal. We\u2019re familiar with each other, it\u2019s normal that our needs for each other plateau out. Our hours don\u2019t help, do they? It\u2019s just a natural reaction, what I do, when you\u2019re not here.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s natural to get turned on by children, and not by your own wife?\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u201cIt ain\u2019t the kids. and it ain\u2019t you. It\u2019s natural, I mean, a need, just to get, to get aroused, it\u2019s like going to the bathroom. That\u2019s what I mean by natural. It happens, you know? I don\u2019t think about it. I don\u2019t remember even doing it, it just happens. I guess it\u2019s relaxing or something. I don\u2019t know. It\u2019s nothing to do with the children, I swear. I swear to God.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He finished his drink during the silence, then made another. Her face quivered with the onslaught of an undiluted anguish containing reference points from over the course of her life. But that face flickered for him\u2014her jowls were flabby now, the skin had a dryness to it, lines and crevices around the eyes and corners of her mouth\u2014but also he saw the less blemished countenance he had met more than a decade ago, that filled him with desire and what he thought and what he thought she thought was love. That was the word they used at least, that was the word everybody uses. The past and the present coincided in the face he saw. He couldn\u2019t drink fast enough. He touched her hand. He asked her if she wanted to have a drink. She whimpered no. He said, please, have a drink with me. She shook her head. For a moment she was still, He refilled his glass with Vodka, and he tried to gulp as quickly as possible as her arms and shoulders started to shiver, then her sobs steadily got less and less quiet.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He put down his drink and held her and said words he thought she wanted to hear. She was just sad, she wasn\u2019t hysterical. But she was crying and kept crying and soon she started to kiss him back, to hug him back, caress him back. When they got to the bedroom though, he couldn\u2019t go through with it. Consoling her was the only response he was able to muster It wasn\u2019t because of her weight, or history or anything he could specify that he couldn\u2019t continue. There was\u00a0 simply no urge. He held her and said something about work or being tired and when it seemed liked she was asleep he went back to the kitchen and made another drink and looked out the window.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He started to drink a little more the next few days, bringing a small bottle to work. To save money, he only bought one small bottle, and refilled from the larger jugs he bought. He didn\u2019t get drunk at work, he just flavored the coffee with vodka. What he didn\u2019t notice was Janey\u2014until the day he came home and saw a letter on the kitchen table. She was staying with friends from church, she was going to call in a few days. She wrote that she didn\u2019t love him anymore but she would pray for him. He noticed that some things were gone, appliances, mostly, the television.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 He made his drink and sat by the window. Nothing mattered. He took off his clothes, looked at the sky, enjoyed the heat.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The next day after his shift, he did the same thing. The only thing he remembered from the day before was that she had left. He was just as indifferent. As he sat by the window, he heard the laughter of the children stop. He looked out to the street. Two police cars were parked in front of the building and the children were gathered at the edge of the playground and looking up towards him. Some were pointing. He imagined the knock on the door even before the cops were up the stairs.<\/p>\n