How to Live a Happy Life
by Clifford Piel
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Table of Contents parts: 1, 2, 3 |
part 1
Jeremy Jones sometimes wondered if his acceptance and desire for death was normal. Whenever he mentioned anything about dying in conversation, about how dying didn’t scare him and how he was looking forward to it, the response was usually an odd look and a nervous laugh.
Growing up, he was sure his mother had loved him, but she never defended him against the verbally abusive monster that was his father. At eighteen. he married a girl he didn’t love. He didn’t even know what love was. Not really. Not if he went by his father’s example of affection, which included reeking of beer, cigarettes, cheap cologne, and belittling his partner. His father didn’t even try to stop Jeremy from getting married because, he was certain, the old man had wanted him out of the house. His mother remained silent on the matter, as she always did.
Annalise, his wife of just two years, was also unhappy. One morning she packed a bag and left without a word. Jeremy didn’t bother asking where she was going, because years of despair had a way of numbing his feelings and convincing him that he had nothing left to give. Staring into the depths of his beer, he succumbed to the darkness of his mood. I’m a cancer. She’s better off without me.
He went to work his afternoon shift at the gas station and talked a moment with his boss, who always somehow smelled like mothballs and stale sweat. Mauricio was a former U.S. Navy SEAL, now in his sixties. On the days he wasn’t headed off to his next job making pizzas, he liked to hang out and tell Jeremy about the missions he had been on and how he had planned to make a career out of the Navy.
However, he had been involuntarily discharged after his fifth or sixth alcohol-related incident. It took him two decades to fight his addiction, which is why he worked at a gas station and made pizzas. He blamed the pizza job as the reason he weighed over three hundred pounds and could never lose weight.
The thought of working two low-paying jobs at that age, at any age really, was depressing. If that’s my future, just shoot me now. Jeremy was at least grateful for the gas station store that supplied plenty of snacks he could munch on throughout his shift.
Three weeks went by before Annalise came home. Jeremy hadn’t tried to contact her during her absence, and she didn’t question why. She just wrapped him up in her arms when he walked through the front door.
What is she doing? He cautiously took her in his own arms, more out of confusion than joy. She was so warm and soft and smelled like watermelon candy. He pulled away from her to look into her eyes for answers, but she only looked back at him softly and leaned in for a kiss. She tasted so sweet he practically melted.
Silently, she took his hand and led him into the bedroom. They enjoyed each other’s bodies like it was their first time together. It was almost as if she were a different person. Maybe, he thought, she went to some learn-how-to-please-your-man camp. Or she’s having an affair and learned some new tricks.
His anxiety and suspicions began to darken the otherwise blissful evening, but he ultimately chose to hold her in silence. A swarm of questions and insecurities marched through his head in the darkness for hours until exhaustion allowed the arms of sleep finally to embrace him.
He went to work the next day feeling very confused about his marriage. Were they going to make it work? He didn’t know, but he realized he was looking forward to seeing her for the first time in over a year. As he approached the front door to their one-bedroom apartment, he could hear strange music with trumpets, piano and a clarinet. Is that that jazz?
When he opened the front door, he was stunned to find twenty or so strangers milling about. His immediate impulse was to tell everyone to get out, but Annalise quickly greeted him, taking him by the arm. “It’s okay,” she whispered in his ear.
Before Jeremy could gather his thoughts, Annalise cleared her throat and spoke to the room. “This is my wonderful husband, Jeremy. Jeremy, these are my new friends.”
The new friends were a mixed bag of men and women who looked to be somewhere in their twenties to early thirties. Some acknowledged him with a nod, some just stared at him while others looked away and went back to their conversations like they could care less who he was.
Jeremy pulled away from Annalise. “We’ll talk later,” he said with an edge.
The apartment was hot and cramped, so he went to the refrigerator to grab a beer. He guzzled half before he noticed a young man in his early twenties with short, slicked-back hair that was parted on the side. A bottle of scotch and a glass stood on the table.
“Hello. Names Conner.” He lifted his glass.
“Jeremy.” He raised his beer and they both drank, maintaining eye contact.
“Join me,” Conner said, gesturing to the chair next to him. “Have a seat.”
Jeremy sat across from him. As they both enjoyed their beverages of choice, Conner talked mostly about trips he wanted to take and other parties he wished to attend.
“You see, Jeremy,” Conner said, “life is short and you grab hold and ride it hard. You need to take that Tommy Gun and spray your way to the top.”
Jeremy wanted to laugh at the guy who was dressed in jeans and a blue t-shirt but had the hairstyle and mannerisms of a 1940’s gangster movie character. Who the heck is this guy? Who are these people?
“Best scotch I ever had was a 1967 single malt.” Conner lifted his glass. “This here is the cheap trash, see. Few more years to build up my wealth, and I’ll be drinking the good stuff again.”
“That’s the best you’ll ever see,” a young and pretty brunette said as she sauntered up with her glass of red wine. “Hi, I’m Nicole,” she said to Jeremy, before she began to ramble on about how much her life had improved after becoming a part of the Life Renewal Corporation. Like Conner, she sounded much older than the twenty-something she looked to be.
Jeremy finally slipped away, leaving the pair talking about what sounded like a different life from a different time. Out in the living room, others talked about how they no longer needed to work outside of the Corporation since jobs were offered to all their clients with excellent pay and benefits.
What a bunch of weirdoes. He avoided long conversations by excusing himself to clear away empty beer bottles and wine glasses.
After a few hours, the party was finally over. Jeremy sat on the couch, and Annalise snuggled in close with her leg draped over his. Although he enjoyed the affection more than he ever had, he wondered what was going on, why she wanted to be so close to him when they had never really been close at all.
Annalise took his hands. Hers were warm and soft and had new pink nail polish. “You got your nails done?” The evening had already been strained with all those people, and now he could feel his mood darkening again.
She lifted her hands out in front of her and spread her fingers, admiring them. “I did. You like them?”
Jeremy pushed her leg off of him. “You agreed no more nails until we pay the bills. We can’t afford that.”
She didn’t lash out to defend her actions like she normally would have. Instead, she took his hands again to sooth him. He fought it, but after a moment of silence, Annalise combed through his brown wavy hair with her fingers. “It’s okay. The bills are paid. The rent is paid. We have enough in our account for six months, and there will be more where that came from.”
He stiffened. Rent is paid and we have enough money for six months! But how? A grin began to form but he didn’t want her to see, so he wiped his face with a hand, looking concerned. “Where’d you get the money?”
“I’ll explain, but first,” she stood up and twirled around, “what do you think of the new me?”
He took in her slender figure and tight jeans, her low-cut top, her long flowing naturally red hair and superbly applied makeup. She is hot. But we can’t ever seem to get along. “You disappeared for three weeks and wasted money on a makeover. How much did that cost? You invited a bunch of strangers to the house who I’d never seen before. Everyone was drinking, so who paid for that? Sounds like you got yourself a sugar daddy somewhere.”
Annalise giggled and rolled her eyes before sitting back down next to him. “There’s no sugar daddy, honestly! I just made a career change. We have enough money with more coming.”
“What? Prostitution?”
“I should slap you for saying that, but I won’t. I won’t give in to those types of negative urges. Did you already forget about the great sex we had last night?”
“I didn’t forget.” He surprised himself with a quick smirk.
“Good. So what did you think of my friends?”
“Your band of weirdoes?”
She folded her arms around herself and frowned. “You didn’t like them?”
“No. I mean they talk different. Have you noticed they sound like... have you ever talked to Conner? He talks like he’s from a completely different era. And that music. What is this, 1940?”
Annalise giggled. “You got the good music. Before you showed up they were playing disco.”
“Well then, they seem fine, in a cultish sort of way.”
“Cult?” She backed away, as if insulted. “If it wasn’t for them and the LRC, I would probably be dead. And Conner talks that way because he is actually living a different life, in a way. He was headed the wrong way, and the LRC is helping him.”
Jeremy pulled out the pamphlet he had tucked under his leg. “Life Renewal Corporation. Is that where you’ve been? Did you renew your life?” he asked sarcastically.
While the party had been in full swing, he had skimmed through some of the pamphlet and read about how the LRC could change your life no matter how unhappy and depressed you were. They even claimed that everyone in your life — parents, friends, spouse — would all see the positive changes and commend you for them. Their specialty was working with teens, but they offered to take others up to age twenty-five depending mostly on physical qualities. He had to admit that he was intrigued.
“That’s where I’ve been,” she admitted. Twenty years old, still in great shape from playing soccer since she was ten, Annalise had no problem being accepted. “You get a full physical and they run tests on you, checking for any signs of things like potential cancer or MS and Parkinson’s. And they’ll help you if you do show signs. They’re investing in you, so they need to ensure you’re healthy.”
“So what, you invited everyone from a cult of super-healers over so I would agree to have them change me, too?”
She sat back down next to him and placed a hand on his knee. “Can’t you tell I’m so much happier now? I actually want to live for tomorrow. Before, all I wanted was to get through the day. I swear Jeremy, they’re miracle workers.”
There is something wrong with them. There’s something wrong with you. “They’re a cult,” he shot back.
“Are not. Nothing like it. I promise.”
“So they fix you and pay you. Do you hear yourself?” Nothing is that good. There was always a catch. But he had to admit it sounded good. He stood up. “I’m going to bed.”
“Please just think about it,” Annalise said, not too disappointed. She had expected him to push back. She had been told that they always do.
* * *
Jeremy woke the next day and Annalise wasn’t there. He hadn’t slept well, thinking about the Life Renewal Corporation. Truth was, he was miserable. He hated his life. He didn’t want to end up like Mauricio working two jobs for the rest of his life, but he didn’t have the education to get anything better, since he had no drive.
He had always been somewhat of a recluse; he didn’t have any friends, and he really didn’t like people. He hated everything about them from their opinions, fake laughs, feigned happiness, and their need to impress.
But Annalise was his one shining triumph. He had jumped at the chance to marry her. She was way out of his league, but they were so much alike he thought things would be different. Instead, they just fed off of each other’s misery. But she’s no longer miserable. She’s happy.
He initially decided to ignore Annalise’s pleas to improve his life. He continued to work the afternoon shift while internally categorizing every customer who bought gas, cigarettes, lottery tickets, and junk food. Loner. Loser. Tightwad. Stuck-up. Showers once a week. She hates her husband. He hates his wife. Gay. Lesbo. Still has eyeliner on from last night’s drag show. The list went on. He started to drink more, even brought cheap vodka to work. The vodka had a way of hiding the pungent scent associated with alcoholism.
One evening after work, Jeremy was so drunk he barely made it home. He was also very angry at the world that was pressing in around him, squeezing the air from his lungs and causing him to pant and his core body temperature to rise.
“You’re having a panic attack.” Annalise guided him toward the couch.
Jeremy shoved her away and staggered back. “I’m not having a panic attack,” he slurred. “You’re all happy now, and I’m done.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I know, and I wanna die.”
“But you have so much to live for.”
“We’re all gonna die anyway!” Jeremy hollered back, throwing his hands in the air as if to make his point.
“We don’t have to,” Annalise pleaded. “Come with me to the LRC and listen to what they have to say.”
“Not joining that cult. We’re all gonna die, so I choose to embrace death. I’m going out on my terms.”
He pulled out a plastic baggie that had what looked like colorful candies inside. He reached in and shoveled several into his mouth.
Annalise snatched the bag away and sniffed its contents. She took out one of the “candies” and touched it with her tongue. Candy wasn’t supposed to be bitter.
* * *
Jeremy woke up in a hospital-type bed, staring at a bright LED light hovering overhead. His mouth was dry and tasted like he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a week. His head pounded with every beat of his heart. Worst hangover ever. The room was about the size of his bedroom at home. The walls and ceiling were painted white, but they were somehow curved and wavy. Maybe that was just his cloudy head.
He remembered drinking way too much and driving home. He had no recollection of getting there, but he did recall arguing with Annalise and taking too many pills from his secret stash, the ones he took when he was too depressed to deal with life.
Normally he swallowed one to mellow out and realize that life just wasn’t that bad. He had bought the pills from a customer at the gas station. He didn’t even know what they were, other than being laced with fentanyl. It didn’t matter, as long as they made him feel good. And they did just that, provided he never took more than two. Now here he was in an eerily quiet room, a pounding head and strange walls that smelled oddly like formaldehyde and dirt.
On the wall beyond the foot of the bed was a mounted television. He thought of turning it on, but he pulled the blanket off instead. He was dressed in a hospital gown.
Copyright © 2023 by Clifford Piel
