I Am the Voice Left from Rehab by James Freud

Author:James Freud
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Australia
Published: 2007-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

FOR THE NEXT TWO MONTHS I CONTINUE the pretence of drinking peach ice tea but I have bottles of vodka hidden in the garden, the coffee machine, flower pots, cupboards … you name it. Every time Sally picks up a book, pills fall out of the pages I have slid them between.

I am spending more and more days in the park, drinking with the local winos, and my head is doing cartwheels. I have come up with an idea of running music tours to America using luxury coaches, like the ones bands travel in. They will be fitted out complete with bars, TVs, lounges and everything else a rock ’n’ roll tourist could want. I have set up a partnership with Brandon, one of my team from Elston Records. I think he has potential and can manage the business side of things while I am the conceptualist and face of the company.

We start mapping out the tours and building the website. But life at home has hit rock bottom. I can barely speak or function. I cry all the time and wish I was dead but I don’t have the guts to end it. I know there is no hope for me and I know I should leave. I am hoping for a natural death (if you call death from boozing natural), but still it won’t come.

Cindy has kept me on at CEA. I suspect it’s because she wants to have sex with me. I don’t know why, because I am neither a fabulous worker nor an attractive man at this point. In a couple of weeks I will start a new project: I am to project-manage an advertising agency version of Elston Records, to train unemployed hopefuls in all aspects of advertising. Go figure.

One night after dinner I am drunk and obnoxious. I am, as usual, denying having had a drink and I end up having yet another huge argument with Sally and the kids.

‘Fuck you all. I’ll show you!’ I shout as I throw a rope in the back of the car. I drive to the bottle shop, pick up a bottle of vodka and head to the park around the corner from our house. I drink most of the bottle and I am finally ready to do it. This is the end. I can’t take another minute of this.

I unwind the rope and pathetically try to balance on the picnic table. I’m seeing two of everything, so I can’t seem to get the bloody rope over the branch. Eventually I fall off the table onto my head. I am so pissed I don’t feel it, so I persevere. After a few unsuccessful attempts though, I finally give up.

‘Fuck it!’

I stagger to the car and start the engine. Just walking around the corner to my house doesn’t even enter my screwed-up head. I whack the car into drive and begin to make a U-turn at about two kilometres an hour, but I am so pissed I keep turning the wheel until I drive up onto the footpath and crash through the front fence of a house.

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