a dream i had

I quickly glance down to my cards, pocket aces, and that old familiar feeling comes back. I expect to have a headache soon, expect to lose my vision, expect to lose my hearing and end up in the bathroom, throwing up, stumbling around, dancing and flirting with losing my mind. I expect all of those things even though they are not going to happen, even though I am safe. I can’t put the feeling to rest though, and I strain for some kind of relief.

“Raise” he mutters from across the table. His hand shaking ever so slightly and his eyebrows raising almost covert to my scanning eyes.

Here’s my catharsis.

“Call.” I set the required amount in the pot with my right hand, unsteady for different reasons than his.

The flop comes. Ace, Queen, two.

“Check” I do my best ‘lets get this over with’ impression and he bites.

“Six-fifty”

I size him up for a minute. Do I raise now and give my hand away with a check-raise, or do i draw him in with a call? The others at the table stop their conversations and notice the intensity on my face.

“Call”

The next card is a King, I pray to God, Allah, Moses, Whatever that he has Ace-King. No more acting cute.

“I bet the pot. Seventeen.”

He looks me over for a second, his eyes glazed over from the whiskey. The stare he gives me tells me to back down, to fold. The slight shakiness of his hand tells me that he has something good. He makes a quick, almost unnoticeable glance down to the board. I peer at him from under my hat with uneasyness. He looks right at the ace and the king on the board.

“Call”

Something tells me that was his best acting. He has Ace-King. The next card comes.

It’s a King, giving me a bigger full house than his presumable Kings full of Aces. My heart takes off, and I can barely hear the rest of the table speak over the rhythmic thumping.

“Check”

I’m going to let him do all of the work.

“I’m all in” He emphatically states.

“Call” My voice shakes noticeably.

He flips over pocket King’s.

“Nice hand.” My cards go into the muck. I grab a Black and Mild out of my jacket pocket, take one last drink of my whiskey, and leave the friendly game of poker. It’s only fitting. It really hasn’t been my year. 

Walking in the chilled December air i know that’s not true. It has been more so my year than anyone else’s, and with each jab i take I learn a lttle bit more about myself, about my resilience, about my tendencies, about how I’m going to come back for more. I keep walking, although I have no idea where my destination is, and I let out a smile.

I shouldn’t even be walking yet.