The Eternal Return

I got up from the table, walked to the door, and spun around. "Later," I hooted.

I took one last look back inside. The neon lights flashed in my face. The door closed behind me with a defined click, and I stepped out onto the city streets. The snow blew in looping circles around me and headlights flew by, making me dizzier than I already was. The wind blew my hair into my face. I walked down the street; there was no one else out there. I guess that's what you'd expect at two o'clock on a cold, November morning. I wasn't cold, though. As my fingers and toes grew numb, a warmth began to spread from my core, through my body. I was comfortable. I tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and laughed at myself when I recovered. I continued down the street, dragging my feet along the icy sidewalk.

I reached my car, and got inside. I sped off down 27th Street and made my way to the highway. There were only a few cars on the road, but they seemed to weave back and forth, in and out of the lanes. Spots flashed before my eyes.

The cars kept swerving and I sped up to pass this idiot on my right. My speedometer quickly jumped from a moderate seventy-five to ninety. I leaned on the horn.

A cop appeared out of nowhere. Lights flashed and the siren blared.

"Shit!" I reluctantly pulled off to the side of the road.

The cop stepped out of his car and headed toward me. I tried to think of something smart to say to him, but nothing came. I turned off the car. My eyelids were getting heavier.

"Sir, do you know how fast you were going?"

"Yeah. Like ninety, but only 'cause I had to pass these fools before they hit me. Did you see how much they were swerving?"

"No. No one else was swerving."

"No one else?"

"Yeah. No one else. You were all over the place."

"Serious?"

"Have you been drinking?" he asked.

"No," I told him matter-of-factly. "Not much," I added under my breath.

"What's that?"

"Nothing." I yawned.

"Can I see your license and registration?"

"No." A blinding pain seared through my head.

"No?"

"You heard me."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I don't have one." It's true. I didn't have a license. It's not that I never did, though. It got taken away when I didn't report a hit and run I had with a parked car. I would've reported it, sure, but I didn't want to have to pay to fix his car. It shouldn't've been parked there, right in my way.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to come down to the station with me."

I knew it was over. I couldn't have lied to him; I would've had to show him my license, which I didn't have. I couldn't go with him to the station; I'd end up in jail. I decided I'd try to outrun him. I turned the key in the ignition, put the car back in drive, and floored it.

But that's all I remember. I must not have gotten very far. When I woke up, I was lying in bed, surrounded by white. A low, rhythmic beep sounded from somewhere in the room, bright lights shone overhead, and I couldn't feel a thing.

The next morning, I was transferred to the Clark County jail.

* * *

I opened my eyes and rolled over in bed. The mattress was hard and my back hurt. I hated jail. It sucked. I didn't want to be there. I shouldn't have been there. It's not like I killed anyone. I was already counting down the time until I'd be out. Three months, twenty-six days.

The eight months I had been here felt like an eternity. I felt confined and controlled and I was ready to leave this hellhole. The only time I ever had to myself were the few minutes in the morning before the wake-up bell rang and the half hour we got for lunch. It wasn't enough. I hated jail.

Moments later, a shrill bell and bright lights flashed in contrast to the night. Both were dreadful. Night was too dark and lonely. Day was too crowded and loud. An officer walked around the cell block, banging on the bars, making sure we were awake. I gave him a dirty look.

I left my cell and went to shower-- another activity I hated there. I like my showers alone. I think everyone else likes their showers alone, too. But that didn't happen there. We all packed into one room, shower heads protruding from the concrete walls. The water collected in the middle of the room and was sucked down the drain like a small whirlpool.

When I was done, I took my towel from a rack and headed back to my cell. I changed into a pair of jeans and a tee shirt. I put my jumpsuit on over.

I went to the mess hall for breakfast. I picked up a bottle of juice, oatmeal, and an apple, and took a seat at one of the many round tables across from the one man I had managed to become friendly with.

"Hey, Karl," I grunted.

"What's up, Wayne?"

"Well, I'm ready to leave."

"No, really?" He rolled his eyes sarcastically at me.

"Yeah. So... you wanna help me out?"

"Sure," he said hesitantly. "How?"

I leaned towards him and whispered in his ear. No one else could hear. I had a plan.

* * *

Every day we had some sort of mandatory, planned activity. Some days we would clean the bathrooms-- they were so gross. Some days we would work in the kitchen-- that was a pretty good job-- but that day, we were going to pick up trash in the park. And I was ready. I had a plan.

We poured out of the bus, took out bags, stakes, and gloves. Karl and I walked a few hundred feet down road to work so that we could have some space to ourselves. It was his last day. And hopefully mine too.

Time crawled along extremely slowly. I was bored. I didn't want to pick up trash. I wanted to go see my friends, who were probably out at some bar, or hung over from the night before. I wanted to be with them. I wondered if they knew where I was. I hadn't called them and no one had visited. I wanted to see my dad. He knew I was here. He was mad. He had every reason to be mad. He told me not to do anything stupid. And I tried. And he was mad. But I could fix that. I had a plan.

A few hours later, it was time for lunch. I couldn't believe it. Karl and I went back to the bus and met everyone else. I got my sandwich and went to sit on a bench, where we watched them, those suckers. They'd be here for a long time.

"I'll be back, okay?" I told Karl. I stood up and walked over to the bathroom. I opened the door, stepped inside, and was immediately hit with the overwhelming scent of shit. Wet toilet paper clung to the walls, the matte metal sink reflected a misshapen image of myself. There was nothing inviting about it. At once, I reached for the toilet paper. I pulled and pulled. And as I pulled, I stuffed it in the toilet. I pulled as fast as I could. It was finally my time and I wasn't going to waste it. I reached the end of the roll and I flushed. The water swirled around in the bowl. It didn't go down. The water and paper kept swirling. The paper stuck in the hole and the water rose a little bit. I flushed again. The water spun and rose higher. I did it again. The water began to spill over the rim of the bowl. It splashed onto the floor and quickly spread. I tried to jump out of the way, but the slush flowed too fast and my got my feet wet. It was gross.

I walked back outside and nodded at Karl and kept going back to the bus to talk to our supervisor.

Karl got up and crept over to this guy. He got ready and punched him, hard. The man wheeled around to punch Karl back.

Officers ran towards the fight to break it up. I took my chance as one passed by me.

"The toilet overflowed," I told him. "Can I get some towels out of the van?"

"Yeah, sure. I have to go deal with this now," he told me, hurriedly. He ran towards the fight.

"All right. Cool." Almost done.

I kept walking, past the bus, past the van, down the street. I ducked into a small grove of trees where I took off my jumpsuit, leaving it on the ground. My heart was beating hard.

I headed down the street. There was a gas station somewhere nearby. I had to find it. I walked about a mile before I saw the orange '76' sign. It spun slowly in the air. The light inside flickered on and off.

I got to the gas station and, so far, no one seemed to be looking for me. Then I heard a voice.

"Wayne?"

I looked to where it came from. I saw a man slouched over in a chair. I recognized him immediately.

"Brett. Hey, man. Long time, no see. Where've you been?"

He looked up at me, a confused look on his face. "I haven't gone anywhere. Just workin' here. But what happened to you? You just stopped showin' up, no notice. It was weird."

"Oh, yeah. I just went to visit my dad. He was really sick." I knew he'd believe anything I told him, especially how he was then. His head liked it was about to burst. "Yeah."

"Cool, cool. He's better now?"

"Pretty much. But, hey, can I borrow your car for a little. Gotta go to Walgreens, to pick up a prescription for him."

"Yeah, whatever you need. Just have it back by three. We should go out tonight."

"Sure thing, bud. Sounds fun," I lied. I didn't plan to go with him. I had my own plans.

He fished his keys from his pocket and pointed to his car. I took them from him. "Thanks. I'll be back by three."

I got in the car and didn't look back.

* * *

It was about six o'clock and then sun was going down. I was sitting with my dad at his house. He sure was surprised. He was kind of mad at me, but I'm not really sure why. I had fixed the problem. I was out of jail. It had taken me about four hours to get there. I was pretty tired from all the driving, but it was worth it. I was free, no more worrying. I had gotten this far and I wasn't be going back. My dad and I celebrated my escape. Nothing too crazy, just some pizza and beers, which was a nice break from what I had gotten used to. I fell asleep at around two o'clock that morning in my old bed.

I woke up at around eleven. It was raining pretty hard. I took a shower, by myself. I got dressed and went into the kitchen. I took a seat at the table and rest my head on my hands. I didn't know where my dad was. After about ten minutes, I heard sirens. I wondered what could've happened. I put my head back down on the table. The sirens were getting closer. I wasn't bothered. They kept getting closer. I started to worry. They sounded really close. I looked out the window. They were right there, outside the house. I panicked as my heart jumped into my throat.

I didn't think. I couldn't think. Run! Get out of here! I grabbed my keys and ran out the door. As I hopped in the car, I hoped my dad wouldn't find out about this. They followed right behind me. I didn't know how they'd found me. I had had a plan. They weren't supposed to find me. Had someone ratted me out? I dismissed this theory, as no one would've done that. As I drove, I kept looking behind me to check up on them. I was going fast, starting to lose them.

The next morning, I was transferred to the Clark County jail.

* * *

The crack of the gavel sealed my fate. I had been brought back to jail, then to court for another trial. And to my great surprise, I had been sentenced to another year at the Clark County jail, all boarded up, with no place to myself, rules governing my every move. I didn't know how to feel. Mad? Frustrated? Stupid? I thought about running out of the room, away from all of them, but there were too many people outside to stop me. I would go back and wait the year out. It was going to be horrible, and I was going to hate it. But my attempt had failed. I had escaped and been caught.

The next day, my dad came to visit. He didn't look too pleased. He told me how stupid I was for getting myself into this and that I needed to grow up. But I was twenty-four. As far as I was concerned, I was grown up. And I told him so. Well, that sure put him in a pissy mood. He started yelling nonsense at me until I decided I was tired of it. I got up and walked away.

That was a little over a year ago. He hasn't come to visit me since then.

* * *

I remember the last day there. I packed up my cell and my few belongings and waited for the officer to come. I was ready to go, but the minutes counted down slowly. I lay down on my cot, hands over my face, eyes closed. I must have fallen asleep there. The sounds of the door opening woke me up and I knew it was time to go. I hopped up, and led the officer to the entrance. They gave me a bunch of forms to sign and I was ready to go. A free man.

I stepped outside into the open air and took a deep breath in. I didn't have to worry for the first time in more than a year and a half. It felt so good. I didn't have a place to go, really, but I had talked to my friend and he said I could stay at his place. It was so nice to be out.

A few weeks later, I found a small apartment, which I shared with a roommate. I got a job that paid a decent amount, enough to get me by without much extra. I was set for the time being. I had contacted all my friends and told them what had happened. I had missed so much. From what I could tell, they had all changed quite a bit. We all decided to meet up and go out that weekend. I would be a nice change from my daily life at that time.

* * *

I am ready to go. I get up from the table, walk to the door, and spin around. "Later," I hoot.

I take one last look back inside. The neon lights flash in my face. The door closes behind me with a defined click and I step out onto the city streets. The snow blows in looping circles around me and headlights fly by, making me dizzier than I already am. The wind blows my hair into my face. I walk down the street; there is no one else out there. I guess that's what you'd expect at two o'clock on a cold, November morning. I'm cold, though. As my fingers and toes grow numb, a warmth begins to spread from my core, through my body. I am comfortable. I trip over a crack in the sidewalk and laugh at myself when I recover. I continue down the street, dragging my feet along the icy sidewalk.

I reach my car and get inside. I speed off down 42nd Street and make my way to the highway. There are only a few cars on the road, but they seem to weave back and forth, in and out of the lanes. Spots flash before my eyes.

The cars keep swerving and I speed up to pass this idiot on my right. My speedometer quickly jumps from a moderate seventy-five to ninety. I lean on the horn.

A cop appears out of nowhere. Lights flash and the siren blares.