The Permutation

Breakthrough (Part 8) Vergil

Friday, November 4th, 9:00 a.m.

Vergil's rage mounted the longer he sat there.
The air reeked of stale coffee and a microwave that had cooked far too much ramen. An unforgiving plastic chair dug into his tailbone while he listened to a man whine at him and ten other people sitting in a circle. The man, Vergil thought he had introduced himself as Harold, was about to be responsible for homicide, because Vergil was on the brink of killing.

Everything about Harold infuriated him. Harold was drowning in a mustard colored shirt two or three sizes too large. A paisley tie with a brown stain that had probably withstood numerous rinse cycles hung around the man's neck like a noose. Harold sniffed in irregular intervals as tears traveled down his face. His pasty complexion and fiery red hair combined with his comically pathetic outfit made him look like the perpetual sad clown.

"It all circles back to my mother. She's always loved Ollie more than me and isn't afraid to admit it. When he got promoted, my mother threw him a party and bragged to all her friends, but when I get promoted, I don't even get so much as a congratulation Good job Harold. So what if I only work in a real estate office. I've worked there for twenty years, and she can't even be happy for me? It was all too much for me, so I..."

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Vergil interjected standing up. The motion was so sudden his chair squeaked against the pseudo-tile floor.

"Sit down Vergil, now is not the time for you to become unhinged," Albert said into his mind.

"Vergil, you haven't lived in Harold's shoes. All of our struggles are different. What you've felt doesn't demean what Harold is feeling now," said Tracey, the meeting's self-appointed arbitrator and leader.

"It doesn't huh? What if your mom is dead? You're telling me mommy not giving a shit about a dead end job ranks up there with dead mom? Something doesn't add up." Vergil said.

"You can't-" Harold stammered.

"Shut up, Harold. It's my turn. I'm in a sharing mood today."

"Divulging your inadequacies and shortcomings to this collection of derelicts will hardly solve anything," Albert huffed.

Harold sat down, his head cast downwards.

"If you would like to share Vergil, I'm sure we would all love to hear it after Harold is finished," Tracey said, her voice cool, calm, and collected. Soothing vibes radiated off her in waves.

Stop being reasonable, let me be pissed off.

"No offense Tracey, but I've waited long enough," Vergil replied, "And if I have to listen to one more whiny syllable, I'm going to lose my thirty days sober chip."

"Talking sense into a brick wall would be easier," Albert muttered.

"You all want to hear about problems? Buckle up. This is going to be a tough act to follow. You tell me if you'd have a drink after this one. It all started about twelve years ago when my friends and I made a pact that we would never leave Lancet Falls. We decided right then and there we were going to be best friends for life, and we sealed the deal with a good ol' fashioned loogy handshake. How stupid was I for thinking it actually meant something? The second those sons of bitches graduated it was like our pact meant nothing to them, and to top it off, the love of my life left that same year.

Thank god I have my family right? Not really. Not when you're a sperm donor baby. Grandpa was a movie star back in the day and disowned his sweet baby Karen when she refused to have a celebrity marriage with some up and coming hotshot. He tossed her his winter home as a parting gift with a couple hundred thousand dollars to keep her going. Don't despair, Karen was a resourceful one, and before she knew it, she was making good enough money she'd never have to worry about it again. Money didn't matter much to Karen though. She wanted something more, a family. Our not so young Karen wasn't gung ho about getting married. She was a free spirit, so why not have a sperm donor baby? How could she have possibly known that twenty-two years later she was going to die of fucking brain cancer and leave her baby all alone? How could she have known she would be the only person to ever love him fully and deeply, and her loss would leave him a broken, bitter alcoholic?