Member-only story
I’ve Worked My Way Up to Become An Average Guy, And I Am Ecstatic
Days after turning forty-eight, I bought my mother a new bed, one of those fancy Tempur-Pedic models that routinely appear on my television screen. It cost three thousand dollars to purchase, an admittedly exorbitant amount of money to part with for any mattress set.
Anyway, I did not think twice as I pulled the credit card from my wallet and passed it to Daniel, the store manager. Because Mom had been incessantly complaining about her previous mattress, a king-sized, unnecessarily firm monstrosity that, for years, had prevented her from achieving a rejuvenating sleep.
The purchase of the bed is a miracle, my life’s apotheosis. Because I was practically homeless twenty years ago, aimlessly traveling across the country on Greyhound buses, unsure of where I should rest my head after the sun dipped below the horizon. After subsisting on the road for three months in 2005, I’d had enough of this itinerant existence. So, after stopping at a bus station in Maryland, I found a public phone and dialed a familiar number.
Bring. Bring. Bring.
“Hello? Who is this?” said my father.
“Hi Daddy,” I said. “It’s me again. It’s Eze.”
Silence fell, like a guillotine blade on an exposed neck. Without warning, Dad abruptly…
