I Won’t Back Down
July. A Friday. I think it is Friday. Sometime between Thursday and Friday. The drink muddles time. Pathetic of me to admit that I’m drunk to my journal. Drunken fingers reveal too much from the depths of a mushy mind.
I’ve always been a leader. In spite of myself. Never sought it out, never asked for these damn appointments. These titles. These filthy little letters that say I’m someone to be reckoned with.
I try to live up to them. I do. Every time I leave the cocoon of this room. This haven where I hide.
I hate him for making me cower.
It happened again tonight. Debating some trivial matter. About ten of us, around a table. The air a film of smoke. Bottles empty. I made things plain. I intended to take the business of these people in one direction. One direction only. Proclaimed it as someone known to have led men. Saved lives. Faced fierceness dead in the eye. Squelched the urge to die.
Amidst the nodding heads, the persuaded looks, he spoke. A snarl from the back corner of the room. That course is doomed to fail, gentlemen. It’s not grounded. How can you listen to some dandy with stars in his eyes?
He launched a rhapsodic attack that lasted. Until an hour ago. I think. Questioning my management of everything – everything this confounded soul has worked so hard to fashion. Money. Decisions. Deals. Doing what’s best for the people I am charged to lead.
Who will believe he’s right about me?
I’m afraid he will destroy me before I finish, while the demon on my shoulder whispers Who are you kidding? You’re already finished.
It is his voice I hear. Even when I relax into the warm embrace of the drink. Like a little death. If it wipes away the gnawing murmur that he’s right. If it gives me the strength to wake up in the morning, take my story to the papers.
And fight.
This post is part of the series Death Becomes Me. It is a series of fiction. If this is your first visit to the series, please click here to read the first installment, go here for the second, go here for the third, click here for the fourth, go here for the fifth and click here for the sixth.
I’m still trying to fit the jigsaw together. At the moment I appear to have a box filled with pieces of blue sky:)
I hope he’s not too complicated, Roger.
Blue sky can be the hardest thing about a jigsaw.
Utterly compelling, Andra!
Thanks, Fiona.
I would make some political comment here about speeches to rooms of donors that get filmed, but I won’t. You would beat me.
But, interesting inner dialogue. Alone, in a room, with nothing but his deepest thoughts, unlocked by a bottle, his true doubts and fears come out. What does he use to stuff them back down and lock them away?
A positive swing of mood. A success or string of successes. An outside affirmation that he is who he wants to be.
Oh..that inner voice…sometimes it embraces demons a plenty…
Almost a voice I hear inside my head, almost…
I have to beat mine back regularly, Lori. You’re not alone. xo
From the time I read this on my phone while getting ready this morning, until I finally got a chance to sit down at a computer, I’ve had this song on repeat in my head.
[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nvlTJrNJ5lA&w=420&h=315%5D
Tom Petty fits this character at times. He’s a hard one to pin down, though.
I love how the need to prove some other drunk asshole wrong is the impetus to keep this guy alive. I’m beginning to think we’re looking at some famous president’s life here.
I do wonder how many of our leaders are pushed onward by just this type of thing.
This is brilliant. Plain and simple.
I see possibilities. If the weight of leadership and responsibility is so heavy that thoughts of death are his companion, maybe the challenge, although unwelcome, is a portal to relinquish the need to be alone in leadership. Of course, that’s rarely the choice people make when openly challenged. Pride and power do carry a price. Hmmm. I’ll have to wait to learn a bit more, but I think he’s at an interesting juncture in his life and I’m very curious to see where his strengths lead him! Debra
I always wonder if leaders face these internal struggles. I know I have in my own positions. I’ve sometimes wondered why anyone would put their confidence in me, and this character feels that way. I don’t think others see it, though.
Very intriguing Andra. I shall read more…
My own version of voice developmental exercises, Bonita. Perhaps you recognize it.
Self-doubt is an affliction only when it’s allowed the upper hand. Most of us suffer from it occasionally and, in my opinion, it’s what keeps us from slipping over into the narcissistic…..
Like Carnell, I’ll respect your space and refrain from further observation.
Karen, your observations help me understand the character better. It’s his self-doubt I have to grasp to portray him properly. Too much rumination on his own death is off-putting to the reader. Enough of it has to be there to color him as a complex, believable person, one with whom the reader can identify and feel compassion for. So, no observation is unwelcome.
Oddly enough, or, perhaps because I’ve been watching too much PBS about the Civil War, but Abe Lincoln comes to mind. I need to read this again a bit later, Andra; let it sink in a bit.
What an interesting exercise this is in getting to hear the voice of this character.
This exercise has been invaluable to me, Penny. I appreciate the insights and observations of readers, because it helps me drill down to what matters about this character. So, thank you.