Pain of Memory
by Aimless
Chapter 1
The date on the calendar hit me like a fist in the gut. I was not ready to face this and the sudden flood of emotions caught me totally by surprise. I needed to be alone…I needed to think and try to block out everything that had happened. It didn’t even occur to me to leave a note as I grabbed my jacket and fled. My bike was sitting pristine in its space in the garage. Michel had helped me rebuild it and he purred like a dream. Funny how most people thought of their bikes as women. This one reminded me of Chloe. Sleek lines, stylish, elegant and with hidden power. So yeah I wondered what my lover would say if I told him I’d named my beloved Ducati after him.
I ran my hand over the warmed metal and got on. It started right up and I barely waited for the garage door to slide open before roaring out into the late afternoon gloom. It looked like rain… perfect since it matched my mood. Our last mission brought up all the feelings that I thought I was over and done with. I trusted Jonathan. I thought he’d been telling me the truth about his brother’s death and the interleukin drug. I thought David’s death had been caused by their team doctor. That he had no knowledge about the drugs that had lead to his collapse on the soccer field. Like an idiot I fell for it all again. I dared to trust and got slapped in the face for it. David had been their experimental guinea pig for ten years and his brother had stood by and let it happen. He’d taken the drugs too and when I had confronted him the guy’s strength and speed had taken me by surprise. I’d gotten the crap beaten out of me before I carried out my appointed task. After learning all the information I needed I caught Jonathan completely off guard and sank my claws into his chest. Mission accomplished. So why did I feel like I had that night so long ago when I sent my former best friend to hell?
Some of the beating I allowed to happen since I was supposed to get the whole story out of Jonathan and we needed the name of his supplier. Plus it felt like penance for the evil deed of killing another friend. Why did everything in my life associated with soccer have to be so tainted? I’d met David my second and final year in J-league. He seemed so alone and even though he was English and could barely communicate we’d managed to become friends. David had recently been traded to Japan and needed a bit of help getting acclimatized. At first Kase had been supportive and all three of us had hung out a lot. Then I guess he got jealous and made me choose his friendship or David’s. I could not abandon Kase and regretfully I stopped seeing the blond soccer player. I mean I could hardly say no to Kase.
I’d first met Kase at the orphanage where I grew up. I’d been a scrawny kid and was picked on to the point where I stayed mostly to myself. I was a wreck after my parents were killed and with no other close relatives I could remember I was taken to a Catholic home for orphans. I was almost nine years old and had no one to stick up for me. The sister who ran the place, may she rot in hell, had little time to deal with any sniveling little kid who could not stick up for themselves. Kase was like a godsend. I was getting beat up again and he stepped in and defended me. No one had ever done anything like that before. He was one year older than me and the hero worship was instant. I followed him around like a puppy. He let me and I knew what it was like to have a family. Kase even changed bunks so his was right next to mine. We spent a lot of time talking and laughing.
Kase and I had been inseparable. We shared everything. We cut class together, smoked our first cigarettes together…he laughed while he held my hair back and I puked my guts up. I returned the favor when we stole a case of beer off the back of a delivery truck and got blindingly drunk in the church basement.
Hell we even jacked off together over some old porno magazines we found in a shed. It was not a matter of being gay or straight. We just got horny and did it. We even compared dick sizes and I felt the humiliation of coming up short. It did not even seem odd that I was with another guy like that. It was ok because it was Kase. My best friend and seemed to me to be a normal part of being a teen.
It was also Kase that got me my first soccer ball. It didn’t matter that it was stained and patched in one place the gift was precious to me. The game became like an obsession to us and we played for hours every day.
It wasn’t until a couple of years later when we were in the park playing soccer with a local team that we were spotted by talent scouts. They came to me first and I had no idea what to do. There was one thing I was adamant about though and that was I would not sign anything or go anywhere without him. I was so glad that Kase got to go with me. That we got to train together to play on a real team. I was so wrapped up in achieving my dream that I failed to notice that my best friend sat on the bench during the games more often than not. I didn’t realize that he started drinking more. I wondered if I’d seen the jealousy would I have been able to stop him from doing what he did. Would he still have betrayed me for money and tried to burn me to death in that damned warehouse? Just one more fuck up in my long list of them.
What right had I to be happy? Why did I even deserve what I had now? I would screw that up too…it was inevitable.
Besides Aya and Chloe would be so much happier without me in their lives. Hell they did not even seem to notice that I’d been spending more nights alone in my room than in their bed. I told them I needed a little space and that I’d be ok. God what a fucking lie. But then it was just the excuse they needed to cut me from their lives. Oh Aya still tried to get me to talk and Chloe would hug me and tell me it was going to be all right. But I could tell they were just going through the motions. I guess I should be grateful for the time they did give me. That they even made an effort for a dumb jock like me.
I revved my bike and raced down the street. I needed the wind in my face and the reckless danger of speeding down rain slick roads. I hadn’t even put on my helmet. I just didn’t care and as I slid around a corner and almost lost control. For one fleeting second I considered just aiming at that concrete median. Everyone would probably be better off anyway.
Then my sense of self-preservation kicked in and I regained control. Damn it but that was not the answer. I really didn’t want to end up splatted all over the side of the road. Besides I’d probably just fuck that up too and end up paralyzed. A drink…I needed a drink. Getting blindingly drunk seemed like a great idea and I began to look for a place to stop.
I didn’t want a trendy yuppie bar or a homey pub. I was looking for a dive where I could disappear for a while. I didn’t want to chat or listen to anyone laughing or having a good time. It took a while to find one that fit my mood but eventually I did. The bar was right on the edge of the industrial district and its dinginess was somewhat comforting. The windows were cracked and dirty with the cigarette smoke of decades adding to the layers of grime. I drove around the side and parked my bike…fuck I just had to hope it was still there when I came back out again.
But did I really even care? The lure of oblivion was inside and god I needed a drink. Alcohol was something I was told to avoid by that therapist from Kritiker I talked to what seemed like a lifetime ago. They said I had addictive tendencies and could easily find myself relying on booze to get through the day. I watched Yohji on that same path of self destruction only he’d tempered the alcohol with drugs. I really had no inclination to ever do drugs considering that they had ended my soccer career. But really what harm could drinking myself into a stupor just once cause? It was not like I was going to do it again. Besides I could stop any time I wanted. This was only going to help me make it through a rough time I was having.
I walked in and most of the people in the place didn’t even look up as I went to the bar. The inside was even more charming then the outside. The bar dominated one whole side of the room. It’s scarred and pitted surface showed a multitude of stains from countless glasses that rested on its surface. Booths lined the opposite wall along with the odd small table scattered here and there. I chose a booth in the very back of the room and sat down. Naturally I had my back to the wall. I laid my jacket on the seat beside me and looked around. This time of day the bar had few patrons. Only those hard core drinkers that started early in the day and did not stop until they were totally trashed. The idea held a lot of appeal to me at that moment; to have nothing more to care about than your next drink.
The few that did look up at me as I walked to the table gave me the kind of suspicious glare they would any stranger imposing on their alcoholic haven. I was sized up and labeled harmless before they retreated to their own little worlds. I didn’t have to wait long before a tired looking; paunchy, bald man in a stained apron came over to the table. I asked for a double vodka and to leave the bottle. I pulled out my wallet and shoved some money at him. He merely grunted and returned to the bar to get my order. After a short wait I was soon sipping some truly foul liquid. I wanted to get hammered not didn’t give a damn about the taste. The first two shots were downed in quick succession and I poured a third. Nursing this one I mulled over what had driven me to this point.