Tuesday, June 5, 2012

Obsession, Anger, and Alcohol--A Lethal Mix

Around 2:00 AM, I started calling bars looking for him. I called a bar in Indian Lake and asked, “Is Mike Tracy there?”
The bartender replied, “Uh, is this Kathy?”
I was already furious and now I was steaming, “No, this is not Kathy,” I screamed and slammed down the receiver. Bruce, my teenage neighbor was staying overnight that night, so I woke him up and told him I was leaving for a while. 
He looked up groggy eyed, mumbled, "Okay," and went back to sleep. I grabbed my keys and two bottles of beer from the refrigerator (I had already had several) and ran out the door. I jumped in my gold Duster that Mike had bought me to entice me to come back the last time and spun out of the parking lot. By the time I flew by the Lakeside, I was hitting 80 mph, my mind dead set on storming into the bar and screaming at him to get out of my life. Fresh snow carpeted the road and shiny guardrails peaked through the four-foot snow banks like braces on teeth. Suddenly...

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