"What do you do?" she asked.
"Well," began my lie, "I like photography, reading, writing. I like to cook. Right now I'm bar tending for work, but it's only temporary until I get back into something more professional. I was laid off a few months ago."
The depth of that lie becomes pretty staggering when you pan the camera back and examine the actual facts of my life at that moment. The facts were: I was a drunk living a drunk's life. My studio apartment frequently stank and resembled a crime scene complete with broken glass, bodily fluids and dozens of empty beer bottles. My kitchen sink was often full of moldy dishes and the trash never got taken out on any regular basis. Every day began with a headache and a frantic look at the clock to see if I'd overslept. I would scour the crime scene for clues about what I'd done the night before. Check the cell phone for incoming or outgoing calls or texts. Count the cash left in my pockets. Is there dope on the table? Once a story had been pieced together I'd prepare myself for the rest of the day, saunter off to work and hope I made enough money to pay for the buzz I needed that night and maybe sock twenty bucks away for rent. Bills never got paid (except for the phone- need to pay that one). I hadn't had a bank account for almost a year. BECU cut me off. I did all my banking at a sleazy check cashing place. I was caught in an awful payday loan cycle. I had taken out a payday loan about 18 months prior and every two weeks I had to pay them a few hundred dollars and then take out another payday loan to live off of. I can't begin to count the interest I paid. The employees there wore ties and were always really nice to me. I wonder if they understood what was happening to my life.
But, to address my lie more specifically, I had no interest in photography and didn't even own a fucking camera. I owned books but hadn't read anything in more than a year. I loved to write but never did. I rarely ate more than one meal a day, but I did cook sometimes. That much was true. I had also been laid off but the economy is only half of that story.
In reality, I had two hobbies: drinking and lying about my drinking. I had grown used to people, especially females I was hitting on, asking me about "what I did" and my response was well-rehearsed. After a few dates with a girl I would decide to scrub the crime scene and bring her over. I was a master at avoiding that day. I had a relationship that lasted about six months and she never spent the night at my apartment. It helped that I was good friends with some genuinely creative people. That made my story more believable.
Two years ago when I got sober, I was sitting in a jail cell looking at my green outfit. I remembered being a teenager and wanting to be a fireman, a paramedic or maybe an actor. I had pursued those things. Hundreds of hours had been spent at the local fire department and the community theater. But there I was in jail facing charges for another DUI. I don't remember ever saying "When I grow up I'm going to be an alcoholic." Looking closely at the green outfit I realized that I had become somebody I never knew I could become. There was no longer any part of my life that was not in shambles because of my drinking. Every aspect of Kevin had been macerating in alcohol for years. My former hobbies were like cherries soaked in liquor. You could see what they once were, but now they were different and they only belonged in a cocktail glass.
When I was struck sober I found myself with lots of time on my hands and a little extra cash too. I was in bad financial shape, but I needed to fill my time up and take my mind off drinking so I bought groceries, paint supplies and movies. I met sober friends. My friend Derek came to my house one day and I made us dinner and we took old landscape prints I bought at a thrift shop and painted monsters into them. He took a print of some people having a nice picnic and added robots to the horizon. I began to learn about what I enjoy doing. Very slowly, I built a life.
I discovered hobbies I love and passed on hobbies that I don't love. I realized I'm not a very good artist but I still like to paint sometimes. I make huge messes in the kitchen, but I enjoy every minute of it. I write for an audience of one (myself) and I hang on my every word.
When I think about drinking (and I still occasionally do), I remind myself about the gifts I have today. My house is small but tidy and organized. I eat often and I eat well. I have a wonderful job working for and with amazing people. I'm a student and I am passionate about what I study. I'm a single guy who goes on dates sometimes but mostly I live a very quiet life and I'm happy about that. I feel safe today and I get to have a relationship with my family and my friends. As they say, today I have a life worth defending.
Tonight at work, I had the pleasure of waiting on a woman I've known my whole life. I was in several plays at the community theater with her kids. I braced myself for the inevitable question I get from people I haven't seen in years. "What do you do?"
But the question never came. Instead, she surprised me with "Kevin Toth! What kind of art are you creating these days?"
I am glad to have an honest answer.
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