THE CHANGE - CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
PART NINE - CHARLIE'S MOMENT OF CHOICE / HUNGRY STREETS
PART NINE
CHARLIE’S MOMENT OF CHOICE
SATURDAY, DECEMBER 19TH
LOS ANGELES, CA
TWENTY-EIGHT
Back in my room, I devoured the fish sandwiches, inhaled the fries, chugged down one of the water cups whole. While I did it, I studied the screen grabs. Reassured myself I had the plan down pat. Then tore them off the wall and shredded each of them by hand.
Next, I put all three bags on the bed. Emptied the money from the new one, and stuffed it into the bottoms of my two old faithfuls. Tossed the screen grab scraps in the new bag, mixed in with all the Burger King trash. And as I took off the suit I’d been wearing nonstop for the last three days, I tossed it all into the new bag as well. Shirt. Tie. Jacket. Pants. Everything but the shoes and the watch.
The food and the focus made me feel a lot better. In some ways, oversleep had been a mercy, because it left me with a lot less time to kill. All I needed was a shower and a change of clothes, and I could be on my way.
That said, a minute later – standing there naked – the bathroom felt haunted once again. And though I was not a superstitious man, all of my sweaty hairs stood on end. I could see little goose bumps bespackle me like plague.
I looked around the room at no one, half-expecting to see you.
But this was the thing. There was no you. It was a figure of speech. That was all that it was. I did not talk to my guardian angel. He did not sit on my right shoulder. He did not take showers in the middle of the night, or let me duct-tape him to my motel chair.
I had no conscience, no little inner voice, no special inside track to wisdom. I was just me. Alone.
There was no higher consciousness. There was no God above.
I did not have to explain the pools of wetness on the tiles. It was not my job. I just stepped on them, and made them scatter.
Then turned on the water, which was supposed to feel good.
But could somebody fucking explain to me why I felt so utterly terrified? Why standing there – safe, in my own hotel room – felt like waking up in my own grave?
