One For the Road Ch. 02

The last three thousand or so that remained in the savings account slowly disappeared over the years; spent on diapers, formula, new tires for her Sedona, boots, shoes, and just about any other emergency a young couple faces every month.

"No, mom. We're pretty much living check to check at this point."

My father pushed himself to a sitting position and then stood with lumbering slowness. "Well, now that you're not going to buy fucking beer anymore you'll have some extra money in the house."

"Shane, I said enough." My mom gave me a hug, patting my back. "You have to take care of yourself, Jimmy. Myra and the boys need you. We love you, son."

"Thanks, mom."

"Listen," my pop leaned in close, hand on my shoulder. "You do the right thing. Think for a fucking change, okay? Don't be like my pig of a brother." He squeezed tight, making his point before backing away with a follow up clap. "You do right by your wife and kids. They're the better part of you Jimmy."

I watched them leave from the front door until I was alone again with just my thoughts and the quiet, empty house. Every time I walked into the kitchen I was filled with shame and walked back out again, not even eating dinner because I just felt dirty being in there.

By eight that night I was pretty wiped out. I was tired, like a bone weary tired. It was an ache from the soles of my feet and up through my calves. I turned on the TV twice and shut it off again after only a few minutes.

"What is it, Jimmy?" I asked myself, reclining back on the side of the couch, feet up on the opposite end. What was going on in my head? Why was I so afraid? I'm not the kind of guy who gets afraid, but here I am, alone in my house and feeling my stomach clenching up and an itch in the back of my throat.

I think that's what was really spooking me. That itch. That pervasive itch that was tickling the end of my tongue. It was prickly and cottony and feeling scratchy and thick. And I knew it well because I had been squashing that itch every day for a long time.

"Fucking shit." I climbed up from the couch and opened the garage door, just looking at the pantry wall to make sure Tim took the cases of Bud Light away. He did. "Good," I said noncommittally. "Good it's gone." I clicked off the garage light and went back into the TV room.

Next to the hall closet was a small cabinet that we usually kept a couple bottles of wine and maybe some of the harder stuff. "Wonder if Tim took those away as well." I wasn't going to have any, I just was curious. So when I opened the cabinet door and saw nothing except for a half package of blue Solo cups, it was with jittery elation that I shut it back up. "Good thinking, Tim. Get that shit out of here."

By the time 10:30 rolled around I was a fucking mess. I took a shower as hot as the water heater could get it, and then I had to cool down it felt like I was dying from a fever. So I blasted the cold water on my skin, my chest and face and crotch taking the full blast. I just couldn't get comfortable, my body was having a bitch of a time regulating itself. Pissed off more than bothered, I killed the water and rubbed myself dry, padding naked to the bedroom where I flopped back on the bed; staring blankly at the ceiling.

Idly I reached over and grabbed Myra's pillow, tilting it towards my face where I breathed in the faint scent of her hair. Fucking shit, Myra. I am so fucking sorry. I am so sorry, babes. I hugged her pillow tighter to my face, the downy softness encasing my nose and mouth, my heart beating fast and erratically. My free hand reached down to check on Little Jimmy, giving my balls a brief squeeze and readjustment. I frowned. Nice, not even a twitch.

Feeling finished with the whole fucking day I rolled over and closed my eyes, allowing myself to finally fall asleep.

When I awoke the next day I had no idea what time it was. Sunlight was streaming through the window and I had to fumble behind the nightstand to find the alarm clock. 11:53.

Fucking crap, I slept away the fucking day.

I got up, expecting the feel rejuvenated after a long night in bed but instead it was just the opposite. I was so fucking bone weary tired. I took a piss and then went looking for something to eat, surprised at the different foods I would normally find in the fridge. "Whoa, thanks mom," I said pulling out a package of bacon. How long has it been since you had bacon in the house Jimmy?

Eventually the smell of the cooking meat filled the room at the same time my bread was finished in the toaster over. Some mayo, a tomato and lettuce, and I had a nice BLT as my first meal on the new (at least for us) plates. God damned, that was good. I washed everything up and then took some time out to clean the rest of the house. No reason for Myra to come home to a fucking mess.

Ok, laundry ain't my strong point. I folded the clothes for both the boys as well as Myra's and my own and it didn't look anything like when she did it. But it was clean and folded in half and put in the drawers so I know that had to count for something. Then I went outside and fucked around with the mower until it coughed to life.

I mowed the grass, weeds, and leaves in the front and the back. Everything on the ground got chewed up and mowed flat. If the pile of leaves was too tall, I marched that mower back and forth over the pile until there wasn't a whole leaf left; just a brown and orange confetti looking mixture that I hoped would blow away during the night.

Around 3 I hopped in my baby and took a drive to the local convenience store to grab myself a fountain soda. The Arabian looking guy behind the counter barely looked up as I walked in, his eyes fixated on some soccer match on the tiny 9" TV he had next to the register. I filled up a cup with ice and Pepsi and when to go ring myself out when I stopped in front of the Coors display. Gleaming silver, bold distinctive writing, and I knew it was filled with the Rocky Mountain amber liquid in 12 different distinctive cans. Sure it might be barely under room temperature now, but an hour in the fridge and it would be good to go.

I grabbed one of the 12-packs and had to look at the back of hand as if it personally betrayed me. Jimmy, what the fuck are you doing? Are you serious? What about Myra and the boys? Well shit, I've had a rough weekend and I deserve a beer or two. You've had a shit weekend because you drink too many fucking beers. Hey, I'm fucking sweating here after working outside. It's just a fucking beer.

I could feel the beads of moisture moving slowly down my forehead. If you're hot and thirsty, you have a god damned soda. Drink that you stupid drunk fuck. I'm not a fucking drunk. Really? Fucking prove it you shit. Walk away.

My hand remained just over the cardboard handle.

Hey, Jimmy. WALK...THE FUCK...AWAY!

"Alright!" I exclaimed, pulling my hand back as if it was burned, whirling towards the counter. From the looks of the few people in the store it was obvious I had made my affirmation not only out loud, but with some volume. "Sorry," I muttered, handing the clerk two crumpled ones from my wallet. "Rough day."

The guy nodded, giving me my change and probably hoping that I would just leave his fucking store and shut the fuck up. Well, I gave him what I assume he wanted and climbed back into my baby for the ride home.

Once at home I went outside to skip rope some more, this making it to 215 before letting it slow down and drape across my feet. I followed it up with some push-ups just to keep my mind sharp and my body honed...

Holy fuck, do I want a beer.

I dropped to the ground, my face in the dying dry grass, my toes splayed, my elbows pointing out. I never realized how much I wanted a beer until I was physically trying to NOT have a beer. This was harder than anything I had thought I ever had to do before, and I felt so terrible that I wouldn't be able to keep it up.

I pushed myself upright and staggered into the house where I sat on the love seat and stared out the front door, my mind blank and my thoughts incomplete. I remained like that until I dimly heard the sounds of slamming car doors and tell tale yells of my sons.

My sons.

I burst from the love seat at the same time the screen door flew open and John and Joel charged into the house. "Dad! Dad! We missed you!!"

They each hit me like a pair of shots to my heart and it suddenly crystallized for me. This was the reason I had to stop drinking. These were my focus to keep my hands off the beer. Two young boys who I loved dearly, grasping at me in their frenzied hugs and laughing uproariously at their much anticipated reunion.

"The yard looks good."

I looked up, my eyes irritated by something, maybe dust and cat hair, who knows, but I blinked away my tears and saw Myra standing there with her bag in her hand and sort of lost. My wife, looking like something was going to be wrong. Like I was a stranger, someone to be wary of. My Myra, uncomfortable to be home and with me.

Not a fucking chance.

I stood up, lifting my sons with me in each arm, and swept the three of us to the love of my life where I put the boys down and we all fell into each other's arms and cried our eyes out. "Oh, babes. I missed you. I missed you and the J's so much. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave, babes."

"Jimmy. James! We all missed you too. I love you."

"We love you Dad!" "We love you Mom!"

We stood there in the doorway just hugging and happy to be back together, the broken wounds in our hearts and family fixed and healed after a terrible weekend apart. When she looked up at me with tear streaked cheeks I wanted to punch the mother fucker who made her cry and knew I would have to punch the fuck out of myself. She quivered as she hugged me until we all grew weary and our tears turned to laughter and giggles, the emotions running rampant through us like wind across a field.

Finally we were spent, and for myself, somewhat energized. "Hey, babes. J's. Let me bring in your bags and I want to hear all about your weekend at Stephanie's. Leave nothing out, I want to hear it all, ok?"

"You got it, Dad!" "I'm gonna watch TV until we talk." "I'm gonna go watch it with John-Boy, Dad."

As the two of them flipped on the TV, I gave Myra a soul searching look and tilted my head down towards hers. "I wanted to let you know that I love you Myra Skelly." I leaned a bit further and kissed her on the forehead.

She glanced at me, searching plaintively. "James? Did you drink anything today? You are acting off. Very affectionate and I love you for it, but just off."

I glanced at the boys and they were engrossed in their show. I took Myra's hand and we walked out to her car where I was able to talk without disturbing our sons. "No, Myra. The last time I had something to drink was right after and the boys left Friday night."

"Really?" She grabbed a bag of dirty clothes and I grabbed the remaining bags, turning to return to the house.

"Yeah. I...I didn't do well when you left, Myra. Nothing I want to get into, but it was not my proudest moment. The next day I had mom and pop, Tim, Scott, Brian and Jerry all come by and give me a hand getting my life sort of back on track. There isn't a drop of booze in the house, a case of beer in the garage, or a cup of alcohol to be found."

"Wow! I'm impressed, James. Really, I am." She leaned into me, hugging me along the side as we reentered the house. "I noticed the cabinets don't quite match anymore but," she held up a hand to forestall my comments, "they do look nice and I have to say, they are hanging better than the old ones did."

"Thanks. It's not all me, in fact, not much of it is. I had some good help."

"I'm glad, James. You need it, and I don't know what to do to help you."

I held her hand in my own, "It's not up to you to help me, babes. This is something I have to do for myself. And for you and the boys. I know that, and damn it to hell, I'm going to do my best."

We hugged and I could feel my body wrapping around hers, my arms enveloping her, trying to make her a part of me. The front of my chest grew damp as she cried silently against me and I held her; held her close and tight as only a husband can do until it passed.

The rest of the night was completely opposite of how my life had been over the last two days. John and Joel told me everything they did with Grandma Stephanie and where they went and what they ate and how much fun they had even though they missed me. We played Go Fish at the table and ate fresh Entenman's cookies that Myra found in the cabinets. I had to thank her for not saying anything about all the replaced crockery and dishware, but I could tell she was disturbed. Then the night devolved to bath time and horsing around until the announcement came that it was bed time and John had to go back to kindergarten in the morning.

I took my time tucking them both in, reading an extra story along with goofy voices, before I shut their lights and bid them a goodnight. Myra was in the bedroom, wearing her sleeping shirt and sitting up in bed waiting for me. "Hey, Daddy."

I smiled. "Hey, Mommy."

"One hell of a weekend, huh James?"

I climbed in next to her, lying back on my pillow. "You have no idea."

She did the same, rolling over to cuddle against me. "I do, James. I lived it too. Just from the other side."

"I guess." I ran my hand across her back, up and down, up and down, slowly. "I'm sorry, babes."

"James. Stop apologizing, ok? I know you're sorry. I do. I got it, and you got it. It's ok. You don't have to keep apologizing."

"I wish things were better. You deserve better."

She placed her fingertips on my chest, reaching up to caress the hollow of my throat. "I have you and that's enough for me. I like this version of you, James. You're...honest. Earnest. I like that. And I think that together, we can make it a little bit better every day."

"I'll make you proud, babes. You'll see." I hugged her tighter and kissed the top of her head, my free hand trailing lower until it was cupping just on the inside the hollow of her back.

We stayed like that together, just touching each other lightly, comfortable and intimate without being sexual. This wasn't the time to indulge Little Jimmy, this wasn't the time to show or prove or make a stand. All we had to do was just love each other and nothing more. And we fell asleep like that, together and with nothing but mutual adoration for one another.

I tackled the next week like a linebacker, hitting it hard and plowing it down. Every morning I woke up feeling good about myself and my life. My boys were my focus, my wife was my inspiration, and taking care of my family was my purpose. Tim gave me a holler looking to shoot some pool on Wednesday but I bugged off, telling him I was going to spend it with Myra and the boys. He laughed and called me a fucking pussy but I had to give him props because he showed up at the house a little after 7:30 that night and brought a half dozen small pumpkins for John and Joel to carve.

He hung out till after the boys went to bed and even Myra thanked him for coming by; she gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek for his efforts. I caught him checking out her ass as she went down the hall to bed which merited a sharp punch to the arm. "Watch it, Timmy. That's mine."

"Relax, Jimmy. Just checking out the menu, not going to order anything. It's not my restaurant." He chuckled.

I mimed his laughter ending with, "Ha fucking ha, Dick. Just watch your shit."

We walked outside where he lit up a cigarette and offered me one. We smoked together, watching the night sky, the cool October breeze blowing across the front yard. He fumbled in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small bottle of Jack Daniels. "Dude, you mind?"

I smiled at him, feeling confident. "Knock yourself out, compadre."

He grinned and took a slug, screwing the cap back on. "How things been, man. Honestly?"

"Pretty good. Myra and I have been getting along better each day, the boys are doing great, and I'm focused and more alert than I've been in years."

"Glad to hear that, Jimmy. You were pretty fucked up when we came out. I don't like to think that Jimmy Skelly as anything other than a cinderblock or a brick wall. Solid, dependable, unbreaking. That's you, man."

I nodded. "It is, bud. Don't you worry. Everyone trips and falls. The winners get up though while the losers stay on the ground and bitch about it."

He finished his butt and ground it out under his heel. "I'm gonna cut out, Jimmy. This was nice. Thanks for letting me mooch out on your family time."

"Hey, that's what buds are for."

He checked his watch and smiled. "I'm out of here. I got someone I got to meet."

I leered, eyebrows waggling up and down. "Does this person have tits?"

He chuckled. "No."

"Ugh. Faggot."

"Dickhead. No, I got a job driving."

I cocked an eyebrow. "You? First off – job. That's fucking funny. Second off – driving. Dude, you can't drive for shit."

"Maybe, but I get $300 cash and all I gotta do is drive a dufflebag out to Coram and drive another one back out to Roosevelt Field."

"What the fuck? Timmy, you involved in drugs or some shit?"

He laughed. "I have no idea, I don't look in the bags. My buddy who I get weed from now and again needed someone to drive one night he was so fucking high so I did it. When we got to Roosevelt Field some spindly fucker in a Camaro ripped my buddy a new ass for being a fuck up and tossed me the cash. Ever since then, I make a little extra scratch about once a week or so moving bags around."

"Tim. You're a fuck up. Don't get busted."

"Nah, all's good." He held out his hand and we shook on it, clapping each other on the back in a manly show of affection before he stepped from the stoop and waved goodbye.

Over the weekend I had Jerry and Grace and their daughter Brittany to the house. Myra and Grace had a great time catching up while John and Joel got to play with the Zavers' baby girl. There was a purpose to my plan as Jerry and I spent almost the entire time working on the damned crappy water heater. There were two elements and we were able to get one working completely and the other well enough. We set the temperature to 140 and kept checking it during the rest of the day. And sure enough, we had hot water back at the house again.

Myra sang my praises and Jerry complimented me on my ability to "pass me the 10 mm socket" and "hold that light a little higher". We laughed and I barbequed hot dogs while the wives put together a salad for everyone. It was a little odd to not have a beer and I know that I was a bit distracted after dinner, but I made it through the day without succumbing and we called it a success.

My work was the same but I imagined that Doug noticed I was less sloppy and more on the ball since he hadn't bitched me out for anything as the weeks went on. The weather grew colder and the size of the orders shrunk as the building season wrapped up and most contractors switched over to inside projects.

It was the 2nd week of November when I had my first beer. It was cold this Tuesday, the temperature hitting barely 40, and it was raining. Not a pounding downpour, but a steady constant, you are going to get soaked no matter what you do rain. We were getting a delivery of sheetrock and the trailer driver had to back the truck up to the overhead in the yard in order to keep his load dry once the tarp came off. We were down to a bare 2 dozen boards already and there was no way Doug was going to let the load leave and return tomorrow so it fell to me to get it into the building.

What it meant was that each time I wanted to take a load of rock off the truck, I had to wait for the driver to roll the tarp back so I can get the forks situated and lift it free; which meant the job took three times as long as normal. So I was getting rained on, three times as long as normal. Then I had to get the rock into the building fast before the top boards became saturated. And I had to do this around the contractors and home owner trucks that kept coming in and out of the yard gate to load up.