Steer the Wheel

Rage leaves behind a broken vessel - glass shards on ripped leather and a cracked frame. Wrought wet pieces of what was once vibrant and is now a silent heap heaves his final breath. Finally aware, finally in peace.

Cigarette fumes coming off frustrated lips drifted above the uneven sidewalk outside The Calico Lounge. Claps of sent cue balls rang out inside. Cedric stood silent while Bennet paced and seethed, arguing with the night and himself and no one at all. A drunken tongue whipping out a lashing of everything and nothing.

"Can you believe she left like that? Just like that?"

Bennet always hunched while he paced. Puffing away and gulping down his beer - a syncopated rhythm but a quick one nonetheless.

"I can't handle this. Do you know how much I did for her? And she turns around, takes all my shit, and just fucking leaves. She leaves. She left. She even took the goddamn dog. What am I even supposed to do?"

Cedric, if he was being honest, only felt a little bit of remorse for his friend. Concern crept in harder than anything else. "Bennet is on a rampage," Cedric thought to himself. Images of those unlucky bastards in Spain getting mauled by a parade of wild bulls seeing red ran through his mind. They both finished their cigarettes and flicked them into the street.

Bennet turned sharp towards the murky glass door of the bar and mumbled to Cedric, "let's get another drink. What do you want?"

Whiskey and PBR ran rivers through the two men, softening one and enflaming the other. Cedric was exhausted of watching Bennet get this way every time they went out. One playing the matador, the other the bull. Distract the man with capes of his own bravado, send him in circles; send him anywhere but charging off into the night.

"Let's play pool," said Cedric. He traded in a couple bucks for some quarters, and headed to the tables. Bennet followed.

The ka-chunk of the coin slot sent balls rolling down into the bay of the table where Cedric's hands reached in and racked them up. "Bennet, you can break."

Bennet wound up the cue and unleashed a wallop of a strike sending the cue ball smashing into the triangle of balls that scattered; three dropped. "Solids," Bennet said. His next shot went in, but the third shot left him no options.

Cedric took a couple of easy pockets, but, in the end, he left the table open for Bennet. A little win here could calm the man down and save everyone some trouble. Bennet bent over and ran the table, popping straight up after sinking the eight ball. He strutted towards the bar, "another Tully!"

They played game after game, and Cedric watched Bennet transform into his old self. The guy that Cedric had loved enough to tolerate the man he had become, the angry man - the broken, unsettled liability. It sure seemed like by his 30s Bennet would've cooled off, but the only change Cedric saw was a ratcheting up of aggression. The headstrong unstoppable nature of Bennet always amazed Cedric until it enabled a downward spiral, a victim's vortex devoid of peace that sucked in whatever got too close. Was Cedric too close? If you really are your friends, then where is this going?

1 am, 2 am, on and on the night dragged. Bennet's ups and downs sucked the energy out of Cedric until he had to call it. He had to go home. Wherever that left the bull to run quit being his problem tonight. They'd survived enough nights out together that Cedric decided leaving Bennet to his own denouement now was safe enough.

"Alright bud, I'm out, I'll see you this weekend," Cedric said as he offered a fist bump on his way out the door.

Bennet cringed. "Look, man, you know what I'm going through right now, don't call it yet, uno mas for a friend."

"I really gotta get. It's almost 3 am, and Judy's already gonna kill me. You know how it is."

Bennet's eyes widened. Cedric felt seen in a way that didn't add up. How could Bennet be mad at Cedric; they'd been together all night. The sun was on its way.

"You know what, fuck it, yeah go ahead. Go ahead home to your wife, your perfect little situation in your own house. Forget me, no one wants to show up for me when I need it the most. I'll be fine, really, yeah, I'll be fine. You go, go right on ahead and fuck off home."

Cedric stared and Bennet in disbelief. This guy can't be serious. Sure, it was mostly all that drink, but he couldn't unhear the resentment - the hatred. So he turned and left, dumbfounded and not sure if he was looking forward to the apology surely to come tomorrow.

The apology never came. Cedric never got a clear answer on what happened after he left other than the news by way of a brief phone call from Bennet's ex. The worst news he had ever received. Bennet left the bar sometime after Cedric, around sun up, driving over twice the speed limit on a busy street miles from the bar. He must have lost control of the his old, white sedan before slamming into an oncoming semi. Bennet died within minutes of the crash.

Rage leaves behind a broken vessel - glass shards on ripped leather and a cracked frame. Wrought wet pieces of what was once vibrant and is now a silent heap heaves his final breath. Finally aware, finally in peace.