Down from a High

George came over tonight. He was feeling really hung over and was in a dour mood. He just wanted someone to talk to. Amazingly, he didn’t have any alcohol on him and was almost sober. I later learned that he had run out of money. We sat in my den and talked.

“I need to quit drinking,” He told me which surprised me completely.

“I worry about you man,” I replied. “I worry you are going to get cirrhosis of the liver.”

“What is cirrhosis?” George asked.

“It is where your liver fills with fatty tissue and quits functioning,” I replied.

“Shit, man, you didn’t have to tell me all that,” George said. “That sounds fucked up.”

“How much beer do you drink a day?” I asked him.

“Oh, I’d say about a case and a few bottles of wine,” He said.

“Damn, man, that is a lot of alcohol,” I replied. “Have you thought about alcoholics anonymous?”

“I don’t believe in all that Jesus, God and higher power shit,” He said. “I don’t want to be in a room with a bunch of drunks whining about their problems.”

“Yeah, I understand. That’s why AA never worked for me neither,” I replied.

You could tell George needed a drink really badly. His hands were shaking along with his voice. I felt so sorry for him.

“Let’s go get some beer,” I said. “It is on me.”

George’s eyes lit up and a smile formed on his face. I hated to see the man suffer.

“I was just about to ask you for twenty dollars to get some,” He said. “I am broke.”

I drove us down to Fat Albert’s convenience store and we got a twelve pack of George’s favorite beer, Milwaukee’s Best Ice. We then drove the short drive back home and immediately George cracked open a beer upon arriving and guzzled it down. I opened a beer for myself and slowly started to sip on it. We continued to talk until George had finished what was left of that twelve pack.

“You alright for a white boy,” George said slurring his words.

“I just know how it is,” I replied. “I have walked in your shoes. I was a drunk of the highest order.”

“Did you drink when you were homeless?” George asked.

I laughed heartily.

“Man, I was drinking a case of beer a day like you,” I replied. “I stayed fucked up for days on end until I had to sober up to drive into town.”

The effects of that strong ice beer started to hit George hard. He started to nod off from lack of sleep.

“Come on, man,” I said. “Let’s get you home.”

“What about my car?” George asked as he stumbled to stand up.

“I will come get you in the morning and bring you back over here,” I replied.

I drove George on home. George’s mother greeted us at the door. She was none too pleased to find her son once again drunk.

“Thanks you for bringing him home,” She said to me with a forced smile.

“I will get him tomorrow so he can get his car,” I told her then said good night as she helped him inside.

I guess you could say I “enabled” George tonight with his addiction. I just know from my own battle with addiction that you will find anyway to get it and it was much safer for me to buy it and for George to drink over here where I could take him home. George is such a good guy. I wonder what he would be like if he sobered up and turned around his life. Hopefully, someday I will find out. I will do my part to help him.