Disclaimer: Not mine. Song's not mine either. Don't sue, I have no money.
Author's Note: Third in my POV series. It's Leo again. This one takes place sometime after White Rabbit.
I am just a poor boy.
Though my story's seldom told,
I stand outside Jed's office, I can hear him talking with people inside. Mrs. Landingham is watching me warily. I don't blame her, the last time she saw me I was entering rehab. I stand, and try to gather up my courage for what I'm about to do, for what I'm about to say, and I briefly contemplate leaving, but I don't. As I wait, my thoughts wander to times in my life when I wasn't so strong as I am now.
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles,
Such are promises
All lies and jest
Still, a man hears what he wants to hear
And disregards the rest.
It's funny, when you consider the havoc Vietnam wrought in my life, I'm the one who made the decision to go. I wasn't drafted, I signed up. I remember Jed didn't want me to go. He thought I should go to school instead. But I wasn't smart like he was and I didn't have the money he had. Truth be told, I was afraid. He and I had been friends for years and I admired him. I was afraid I wouldn't be able to make it in college and I didn't want to disappoint him. So I decided to go Vietnam instead. He told me it would be horrible over there, but I didn't believe him, it was easier this way.
When I left my home
And my family,
I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station,
Running scared,
Laying low,
Seeking out the poorer quarters
Where the ragged people go,
Looking for the places
Only they would know.
Jed was wrong, it wasn't horrible, it was worse than that. I don't think the English language has come up with words that describe what I saw over there. The blood, and the men, and the bullets, and the jungle, and the craven, stark fear that would seep through my veins every time I carried out a mission. I was 19 years old when I went over there. When I returned, I'm sure my age rivaled Methusala's.
Asking only workman's wages
I come looking for a job,
But I get no offers.
Just a come-on from the whores
On Seventh Avenue
And then I came back, to a country that hated and despised me for fighting a war I never really understood. No one would hire me, no one would even look at me. Jed was already on his way to being the success he was expected to be. Me, I had nothing. And so, I drank.
I do declare,
There were times when I was so lonesome
I took some comfort there.
Years later, I met Jenny. She was beautiful and for some reason, she loved me. She was the only person who could stop me from drinking, at least for a while. We married and Mallory was born. I went to college and found work. Soon, I was becoming a success on my own. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough.
Then I'm laying out my winter clothes
And wishing I was gone
Going home
Where the New York City winters
Aren't bleeding me,
Leading me,
Going home.
The booze and drugs overran my life. To the outside world, I was a successful man. I had a beautiful wife and wonderful daughter, and I was in a powerful political position. But I couldn't keep it up. My fa�ade began to slip as my world slowly crumbled around me.
In the clearing stands a boxer,
And a fighter by his trade
And he carries the reminders
Of ev'ry glove that laid him down
Or cut him till he cried out
In his anger and his shame,
"I am leaving, I am leaving."
Finally, I hit rock bottom. I called Jed and told him I needed help. I had hurt Mallory and Jenny too many times, I need to change. Jed got me into rehab. I thought 'nam had been hell on earth, but rehab was a close second. There were times when it was so hard to breathe and the trembling shook me so hard and I wanted to just give it all up and go back to the blissfulness I had grown accustomed to.
But the fighter still remains
Mrs. Landingham says my name, breaking me out of my reverie. Gathering my courage and my wits, I head towards Jed's office to tell him he should run for President of the United States.
Finis
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