When the email appeared in my inbox, I knew it was bad. The subject heading read: “Wanted: Matt Kennamer - Attempted Murder”. I clicked the link and his old mug shot appeared on the screen. It was him alright - a picture from a previous arrest for a D.U.I., his face swollen - the eyes bloodshot. A shit eating grin that said ‘I’ve been here before and I’ll do it again. Fuck you, these walls won’t hold me.’ He’d bailed out receiving a fine and substance abuse classes. This time was different. Attempted murder put you in a new class of criminal. He was on the run and I knew where he was headed.
I called around to friends I knew would have some idea of what happened. Every one of them said the same thing - he had choked his girlfriend Beth in …show more content…
I found a room at a motel close to the bridge, but not too close. I didn’t want to meet anyone I knew. I stopped by the liquor store and bought a case of piss beer and drank a few until the clock read 11:00 PM. The bridge was a special spot for Matt and I, our secret hideout from the world. I crossed the street (with beer case in hand) and walked the tree- lined path along the river past the apartment complex to the underpass. When we lived in the apartment complex as neighbors, it was the bridge we went to, to get away from our girlfriends. We would build a fire from the scraps of dried wood lying around and put away a 12-pack. We would talk about life or sports. The bridge provided a place to escape from our lives for a few hours and an excuse to get shit-faced and sleep outside.
When I reached the bridge, I saw little sign of life. A few new graffiti marks on the walls. A forgotten sleeping bag crumpled against a bridge pillar. There were the remnants of an old fire near the bank of the river, but it was cold. A few beer cans scattered around the edge left like unwanted toys by a bored child. I thought about calling his name then sat down on a log and cracked a …show more content…
When his drinking becomes too much to handle and ruins his life. I was hesitant to join, but after accepting I couldn’t control my drinking and turning my life over to a higher power I started to feel better. I completed the twelve steps and had two years of sobriety when I agreed to be Matt’s sponsor. I had convinced him after his third D.U.I. that he needed help. I thought that as a friend who had spent so many nights with him drinking that he could trust me to guide him back to sobriety. He lasted a few months then was right back to drinking. I moved away and after a few months in a new city was back to drinking as well. Matt and I stayed in touch, but after failing him as a sponsor I stopped answering his
I called around to friends I knew would have some idea of what happened. Every one of them said the same thing - he had choked his girlfriend Beth in …show more content…
I found a room at a motel close to the bridge, but not too close. I didn’t want to meet anyone I knew. I stopped by the liquor store and bought a case of piss beer and drank a few until the clock read 11:00 PM. The bridge was a special spot for Matt and I, our secret hideout from the world. I crossed the street (with beer case in hand) and walked the tree- lined path along the river past the apartment complex to the underpass. When we lived in the apartment complex as neighbors, it was the bridge we went to, to get away from our girlfriends. We would build a fire from the scraps of dried wood lying around and put away a 12-pack. We would talk about life or sports. The bridge provided a place to escape from our lives for a few hours and an excuse to get shit-faced and sleep outside.
When I reached the bridge, I saw little sign of life. A few new graffiti marks on the walls. A forgotten sleeping bag crumpled against a bridge pillar. There were the remnants of an old fire near the bank of the river, but it was cold. A few beer cans scattered around the edge left like unwanted toys by a bored child. I thought about calling his name then sat down on a log and cracked a …show more content…
When his drinking becomes too much to handle and ruins his life. I was hesitant to join, but after accepting I couldn’t control my drinking and turning my life over to a higher power I started to feel better. I completed the twelve steps and had two years of sobriety when I agreed to be Matt’s sponsor. I had convinced him after his third D.U.I. that he needed help. I thought that as a friend who had spent so many nights with him drinking that he could trust me to guide him back to sobriety. He lasted a few months then was right back to drinking. I moved away and after a few months in a new city was back to drinking as well. Matt and I stayed in touch, but after failing him as a sponsor I stopped answering his