I’m not about to say it’s anythingother than a coincidence, the factthat somebody in my group over twohundred miles from Bellinghamknows of Jeff Mixdorf, knows of the regattanamed after him, and I’m certainly
not about to listen to a counselorwhen she says, Look, it’s been twelve years,it’s time for you to get over it.I spend the rest of the day pissed off,skipping mandatory gym, temptedto hitchhike into town and find
a liquor store. The only spiritualexperience I’ve had since I arrivedis imagining the different waysI’d murder my roommate. He won’t shuthis mouth, singing songs made upon the spot about his favorite food (pussy),
and old Sandusky’s lust for littleboys. In the cafeteria drinking teawith a chaplain, I admit I don’t believe in God.He smiles, his palms lightly touchinghis styrofoam cup. It isn’t becauseI don’t want to, I add. I’ll tell you a secret,
he whispers, leaning forward overthe table. Any man who says he knowsGod, like I know this tea will burnthe shit out me if I pour it in my lap,is either lying or naive. An hourafter lights-out, after a supervisor goes
room to room knocking gently, peekingin like a parent to see we’re not upsmoking on the patio, windows beginto tap with rain. I lie wide-awake, the counselor’svoice droning in my head as I tryto accept what I am, why I keep dreaming
of Jeff in a Fairhaven bar talkingabout a girl he broke up with, foamrunning down our glasses. I’ve decidedmy group only needs to know thathe killed himself. Anything about me loving himand they’d all gang up. What about
your wife? Why’d you bother gettingmarried? They’d laugh, ask me if I’ve beenchecking them out, who I’d rather fuckin the ass. I open the patio door forsome cold air, watching rain drip off the roof.I’m scared the cravings won’t stop,
scared they will. Maybe I’ve alwaysknown what really led me night after nightinto the street outside my apartment,sprawling me on the blacktop. Maybe one day I canbe perfectly fine with giving it overto somebody’s God, like a last hidden stash.
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Photo by Aarón Blanco Tejedor on Unsplash