Social Monotony Part III the 2nd

As days turned into weeks, weeks into months and months into years, Wayne was earning a bit and losing more. He was at home most of the times. Selena was not interested in Wayne anymore. She was living just for Christopher. Wayne had lost all his savings. He was now eating into Selena's savings. Selena was working hard, but it was not sufficient. One morning, when Wayne was still asleep, Selena left all with Christopher, with a small note behind " Take care of your self" with some money left behind in the drawer. Being a writer himself, he thought that the note was more a taunt than any concern. He very well knew that he could not take care of himself, without earning some money. He had quit smoking for Selena. With Selena gone, he started again. This time heavier than ever. With all his addictions or rather dependencies, he had to earn something. He started searching for a job. First thing he realised that he had become really unfit. He used to always climb stairs two at a time. Now he crawled his way up and ended up panting at the end of the first floor. He was just 33. He felt a pain in the chest, almost hoping it to be an heart attack. He also started getting suicidal thoughts. Sometimes, acting on it in the wake of desperation. With no ounce of purpose and no one to live for, he had gone from being a bright jolly kid to a complete failed adult. He felt he didnt belong. He wondered who would have guessed it. The job scene was also bad, as anybody doing a background check knew that he had no concrete job for long. Whatever he had before was also not impressive. He failed in all aspects of his life. He had no desire, no motivation or will power to turn back things.

He was comfortable being low. It justified his impulsive behaviour. It justified his downfall, his inability to handle a relationship, to raise a child. He almost even blamed Selena for being so cruel and critical of him. He broke down. He stayed in his room for hours during the day. Walked on the streets in the night reminiscing the golden childhood and teenage life. He missed being happy all the time. The enthusiasm, the life without expectation, anxiousness. He thought with whatever damaged faculties he possessed. He thought he could get it back. But the question was how. His first step was to get back in good health. He could not get up early in the morning. So he hit the road in the night. He began running at eleven in the night. The roads were relatively empty. Even the patrol guards got familiar with him. He got in shape within a month. He was still living off the scraps he was left with.

He started writing again. He wrote in the nights after the jog. He felt that his creativity was best after 12 in the night. He sometimes wrote till three in the morning. He had no money left even for his ink and paper. His quitting alcohol and smoking helped him sustain a bit longer. He put up his personal things for sale. Whatever he kept for sale, was almost sold immediately. Even the most unnecessary articles. He wondered, whether the tides were turning. He had enough money for food and stationery. He felt he was onto something. He even stopped searching for jobs. He felt it made him feel negative.  He visited several libraries, researched for hours. In six months he was nearing the end of this book. He started visiting publishing companies with his draft. He managed to land with an interview with an upcoming publishing house. It was known for its repertoire of offbeat authors. The interview was scheduled at early morning. He could not sleep all night. As a result he was fatigued. But, he managed, with his increased stamina. He was expecting to fail initially. But, he had decided to endure and resolved not to give up in any case. He had given up on everything, including himself. He went to the interview, with all the courage and conviction he could mutter. he was still emotionally brittle. He knew he had to handle himself delicately. He therefore, went with no expectation.

As he entered the room, the person was reading something very carefully, not bothering to reply to the greetings of Wayne. After half an hour of waiting. Wayne interfered and asked if he could show his draft, He did not reply. After another fifteen minutes of shuffling through pages, he asked , "So you are Mr. Wayne". It sounded so odd to hear his name after more than eight months. Wayne said, impatiently "lets get to the point". He added, "I have the draft of the book, that I want to get published. I feel your publishing house would be the most suitable for the topic I have written on". " Every statistic, theory , statement, instance is a result of months of research. I have derived something of my own. I believe it will help professionals,amateurs, enthusiasts and even a common reader."

The publishing guy did not seem to buy the claims of Wayne. He read through the first few pages and was immediately interested. He did not show his interest facially though. He asked Wayne to leave the draft with him. He said he will get back to him in some days.Somehow, Wayne felt negative about the whole affair. He went back, thinking it was not as bad as he thought, yet he was disappointed for no particular reason.

The publishing house never got back.

He tried several others, but each time he knocked a door, he found dead ends. He was giving up all hopes of a redemption. He was down and out again. Controlling all impulses from letting him break down again. He started staying indoors again. Out of money and any will power to fight. He cursed his luck for not affording him one chance to get back to life. He was losing his weight and his mind. He seldom left his home. He sold all the things that were not very important. Except for Christophers cap. He thought he should get back to meet his son. But, he remembered the promise that he would not meet Christopher, until he was capable of standing on his own legs.

Three weeks of utter desperation and hopelessness.

He received a call one morning. One of the publishing houses was willing to publish his book. The terms were however heavily lopsided in favour of the publishing house. The royalty was almost non-existent. But he was going to be paid something upfront. An amount he had not seen in a long time. Sufficient for him to begin a new life. He signed up for it.