The man known as Leeland was happy to celebrate the completion of his first year at college. It would be best to celebrate with friends, but not everyone has those, especially not him, what with his pompous attitude and aptitude for dishing out backhanded compliments to his peers. It was a part of himself that he could barely control; he needed his peers to know that he was better than them and what better way to assert that than by openly mocking them and in turn rejecting the very idea of their kinship?
No, Leeland had no one to share in his success and he decided that he could celebrate alone. It was his accomplishment alone after all, there was no one else who could take credit for it. After he finished his last exam for the spring semester, Leeland slowly wandered the brick pathways of his campus, taking it all in and reminiscing over the semester. He glanced at the steps leading to Low Library where he had laughed at a man who tripped on the uneven bricks and tumbled all the way down to the bottom. They had to call an ambulance for him, but it was like something out of a movie and Leeland was grateful to the man that he had tripped and fallen just in time for him to see it. He looked longingly at the building known as Hamilton where he had taken his Literature Humanities course and wished that he had one more day to berate the girl in his class who always raised her hand to respond to questions but never seemed to understand the point of the texts that the class was discussing. Leeland would smile as he denigrated her answer and watched her slink down in her chair. Yes, his first year of university had been wondrous and far exceeded his expectations. His grades were immaculate, he had landed a summer job that would keep him in the city for the summer. Leeland had a lot to celebrate.
He left the campus and headed onto Broadway to the bar known as the Heights. It was early enough that the lights would still be on and he could get a table for one. He climbed the steep stairs up and when he was seated, he ordered food and a pitcher of mimosas.
As he waited for his food and drink, he stared out the window at the avenue below him and the people moving by. It was a stark contrast to the place he remembered from his youth, the backyard of his mother’s house that was mostly red dirt and scraggly grass. In so many ways, Leeland had made it. He was the success that he had always wanted to be, that he was destined to be, that he was willing to kill to be.
When the food and drink arrived, Leeland ate and drank with a smile on his face. He cheered and toasted himself. He finished the entire pitcher of mimosas and asked very loudly for another. His waitress feigned a smile as he slurred the order at her, and as she walked a fresh pitcher to him, she spit on the top. She recognized Leeland, though when he had gotten drunk alone before at Heights he called himself Aldous, and she remembered that he did not tip.
Leeland was too drunk to notice the spit, if it was even noticeable, and he drank the second pitcher happily.
Life was very good for Leeland and when he had his fill, he stood from the table and started to stumble toward the door. As he stumbled, he ran into a man who was at the bar with his girlfriend. When Leeland hit the man, it caused him to spill his drink all over his girlfriend. He was mad and cursed at Leeland.
“What the hell bro?” The man yelled.
“Bro?” Leeland echoed as he swayed in place. “Do you feel obligated to call me that ‘cause I’m black? Why do white people do that? Why do black people do that? I’m not your brother you roided up frat boy.” Leeland swung his hand and knocked other drinks over that sat on the bar. Everyone there cursed and yelled at him. A mob formed and Leeland, who stood defiant and proud of his actions, was soon engulfed in a crowd that occasionally punched or kicked him. The mob moved him to the top of the steep stairs that led up to the restaurant and the man that Leeland had initially bumped into pushed him down the stairs.
It was a painful, bumpy ride down, but Leeland was plenty drunk so he wouldn’t fully feel it until the next day. He lay bleeding at the foot of the stairs, smiling to himself, still celebrating his many accomplishments and very ignorant of his many failures.
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