Cliff washed the clonazepam down his dry throat with a chug of cabernet. He held the glass of wine in his left hand and looked out the window. The city lights grew brighter as the evening dropped in. Everything shot to shit, he thought to himself. It looked good this morning but, goddam, it wasn't that way now. Cliff knew that situations changed on a dime. It's just that they usually happen to other people. His patients, for instance.
Cliff is a chiropractor. He had his own business until the new age chiropractors starting graduating from every college in America. He still had his business but had added writing prescriptions for medical marijuana to his practice for the quick, easy cash involved. It's the only thing keeping his business alive. Chronic pain or illness, that was the criteria that would keep regulators off his back, so he wrote them, gleaning medical records for anything that might satisfy the regulator's staring eye.
He's at home, by himself, again. Is it just me, he thought, or does every body go through life feeling as if something is about to happen? It caused him anxiety. Waiting, waiting, for what? My whole life, waiting for it to happen. What?
Another glup of wine and Cliff was still staring out the window. Earlier in the day, Cliff had taken his dog, Flash, down to the river to walk. Cliff wanted Flash to be a service dog but Flash got too excited at the river. Today Cliff was going to walk Flash and not let him off the leash. He and Flash walked one half mile, sat for a while and then turned around and walked back. Flash knew he was being tested and kept calm but all the time thinking that if he got half a chance he was in the water. Done.
Done. Done walking. Cliff looked up and saw his friend Amos coming toward him with his two young sons. About a year ago, Amos had asked Cliff to sign off on his son's physical for football. He had just wrecked on his bike and Amos didn't want to take the chance that his son would not be able to play Pee Wee football. Cliff needed the cash and did it. Doesn't make much difference, he thought. At least he gets to play football.
"Hey, Cliff," Amos called, "How ya doin'?"
"Good, Amos. You?"
"Good, man, good. Junior's football team did pretty good last year, you know. Thanks for letting him play."
"I only signed a piece of paper that could have put me in jail if your kid got hurt, Amos"
"Yeah, well, he didn't and he's even stronger this year."
"Right," Cliff sighed
Now, Cliff stared out the window. The leaves on the apple orchard across the street had yet to come in. It was February and the flickering anti crime street lights of the city could be seen through the trees. There would be a full moon. The house was quiet. Flash was asleep on the floor. He was snoring. The furnace kicked on with a whoosh. Flash sighed. Cliff sighed. Cliff drank. It was a cheap cabernet sauvignon bought at Costco for $32 a case. It was decent and not at all acrid as a cheap wine might be. Cliff didn't know shit about wine. He drank it anyway. It helped put things in perspective. It was good for his heart. He drank it.
This is a rough draft of something, I don't know what yet. I have to think about Cliff and figure him out.
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