Alizabeth

14

The sun rose and everything fell. Alex woke up with a paralyzingly painful headache, seemingly induced by the bottles of open vodka strewn about his apartment. While the headache rushed and pounded at his brain, the memories didn’t seem to get the memo. They waltzed away from his conscious, as the alarm clock blazed from the bedside table. Alex had thrown away almost a year of sobriety for one night of drinking to forget. One thing he did remember, oddly enough, was Step 3 of the Alcoholics Anonymous recovery process: find a higher power. Alex’s sponsor’s voice corroded at his mind. “Your higher power could be anything. Even a doorknob.”
Alex had questioned this for many reasons, but a prominent and reasonable inquisition was the obvious—how could a doorknob be a higher power when it lacks a voice, or a mouth, or any animate features for that matter? If a doorknob couldn’t speak, how could Alex possibly look to it for guidance through his recovery process? As Alex thought about this, he sat up in bed, and reached for the glass of water on his bedside table. The water was unpredictably corrosive to his throat. It wasn’t water at all. Alex picked up the glass and threw it at the door.
“Watch it.”
No. This couldn’t be happening.
“Who’s there?”
“Your higher power, sir—er—um… Adam? Artie?”
“Alex. Why am I answering you? Did I take hallucinogens or something? I’m officially crazy.”
“Oh, Arthur, darling. You’re far less than crazy. Those bubbles needed a good fight put up against them!”
Alex, entirely baffled, couldn’t help but to answer. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I hear you talk on and on every day about your soap rioting. Quite an underrated cause, if you ask me.” For a higher power, Alex’s doorknob knew very little about him, other than the fact that it had been chosen for a higher power.
“Sobriety. My quest for sobriety.”
“You don’t need to lie about your cause just to make yourself seem edgy. I think that soap rioting is very important!”
“I’m not lying. Why would I need a higher power in my quest for soap rioting?”
“I could offer guidance as to where the majority of the soap lies. Mostly under sinks, in sinks, children’s baths… things like that. I have a feeling by looking at your face that soap-related guidance is not what you’re looking for.”
Alex couldn’t hold his anger back a single second longer. He snapped. “You dumb idiot! Were you sleeping when I brought home five bottles of cheap vodka?”
“Albert, I may be a doorknob, but I’m no monster. I have a schedule. If you shimmied down here between the hours of 7 p.m. and 8 a.m., then you better believe I was sleeping!”
“I was sober for an entire year an—“
“Woah. Let me stop you right there, mister. I think you meant ‘I was a soaper for a year’. Just a little correction.”
“I never knew a doorknob could be so frustrating. My life has absolutely nothing to do with soap!”
“Ick! You should really try and use some every once in a while. Particularly after wiping your—“
“No, I don’t mean—that’s beside the point. I was sober for a year, okay? A whole year. As in, did not consume alcohol for 365 days sober. Then my sponsor moved to Paris to pursue a better life. She was the only one I could talk to when I was in a bad place.”
“Well, sometimes you have to let loose a little bit when someone dreadful goes out of town.”
It became clear to Alex that the sassy doorknob was not listening to his tale of agony. Why was he even talking to the doorknob? It obviously knew nothing about the mess that was his current situation. Alex reached for the doorknob.
“Aaaaaagh! Hey! You’re—constricting—my—air!”
Alex let go.
“Ahh. Thank you. Gosh, were you trying to kill me?”
“Not originally, but now it doesn’t seem like such a bad plan.”
In the only way an expressionless object could, the doorknob looked hurt. “C’mon, Alfonzo. I just want to help. You know, I didn’t come out of such a super dandy life myself.
“It was the year 2011, when New York City was bustling with star potential. But, as you probably know, not everyone can make it in showbiz. I thought the world was at my fingertips. I was sure my name would be in lights: DANNY D’OORKNOB AS ROXIE IN A BRAND NEW RENDITION OF CHICAGO! My audition was a bust. Actually, it was cancelled halfway through. They told me that Roxie had never been played by a round, 3½ inch kind of guy, especially with such a flat chest. But I persevered! Even if Roxie wasn’t the role for me, there were more productions on the rise. So I auditioned for doorknob #3 in Book of Mormon. And guess what? I got the part, Austin! It was quite a saucy role for me. Those fine fellows touched me all over.
“After the last show with my cast, I decided Broadway wasn’t for me and fulfilled my true calling: serving people by opening doors on the lower east side. I guess you could say that when one door closes, another opens. What I’m saying, Alejandro, is even though you failed this time, you still have a full life ahead of you to do whatever you want. And I’ll be right by your side! From now on, you’ll always have me. Open a new door. This doesn’t have to be a downward spiral. Keep your head up. Come on. Open this door. Go out and enjoy yourself, without the drinks. Audition for a Broadway show! I don’t care. Just show yourself a good time. I know you can do it. Open this door, Alex.” Alex stared at the door handle, and slowly turned the knob.