One For the Road Ch. 05

Fuck you Mark, just fuck you.

My conversations with Myra were nice. That's the best I could say, nice. We were two broken things, inching around one another, both afraid of making a mistake and setting the other one off. I continued to throw away every piece of paperwork her nickel-plated lawyer sent my way if it had to do with the separation. Sometime I would rip the pages in half, other times I would just crumple them up one page at a time. Once I put them in my pop's barbeque and piled Kingsford coals around them before setting them alight.

My mom told me to grow up and not risk burning the house down.

It was third week September, I was five months sober, and the last day of the work week. Tom asked me to stick around after the job was over to talk to me. I won't lie, I was fucking nervous. I know that the season was coming to an end and I was the low man on the totem pole. Shit, I was the fucking gofer boy with the strong back. I don't know how much work Tom had in the hopper, but I assumed it was not going to be like this forever.

"So tell me Jimmy," Tom began after the last guy drove away. We were at the jobsite he had in Massapequa; north of the Sunrise and near the mall, it was a reroof and reside and we expected to be here another two days.

"Tell you what, Tom?" I asked, pretending to be cool and level but inside I was shitting bricks.

"What your plans are next?"

"Next? Next how?"

"I listen to you, man," he said. "I also pay attention to the things that aren't said. I received a garnishment request from Allside Medical Credit for you, looking for me to snag $95/week from your paycheck."

"Fuck," I sighed.

"Yeah, I agree, fuck. I know you're giving your wife and boys an assload of money. I also know you are shelling out some bucks to your mom and dad to help pay for your time there. I see you brown bagging it and picking up dropped pennies and nickels. I've watched you scavenge the trash piles and dumpsters for broken tools and bent nails and then a few days later see those same 'busted' tools on your toolbelt or in your bucket in working condition. I know your Charger runs great, but you haven't been able to fix the dents or even get a container of touch-up to fix the gouges and scrapes and scratches."

"Yeah, things are tight, Tom. I'm sorry I never mentioned the hospital bill to you man; I didn't think they were really going to garnish my check." I deflated slightly. "Shit on me, $95 I don't have to give."

Tom nodded, " I hear that. But I wanted to talk to you about it. You've been busting your ass for me for 4 months now and I have to say, you surprised me." He held up one hand, "No, no, I'm serious. I hired you because you're in recovery and I have a soft spot for that, being one myself. I also knew you a bit before, and truth be told, you're American and can speak English and lately, that's a lot harder to come by than it used to be in this business. But you've really put yourself out there and I'm impressed with what you've done to date."

I nodded and looked at him askance. "Is there a 'but' part to come now? If so, please don't make me wait too long, I couldn't hack it."

He chuckled. "No man. Not the case. Look, I've got enough outside work to carry us to November, and after that I have inside jobs that are coming up. I wanted to let you know that you are well past the probationary stage."

"Really? Shit, I thought you were going to give me the boot."

"I figured, you were sweating when I asked you to stick around." He pulled out my paycheck and looked at it, tapping it against his palm a few times. "I had to hit you for the garnishment, man."

"Crap."

"No choice. I don't do it, the government gets up my ass." He handed it towards me and placed it in my hands. "Open it up."

I ripped the top off and pulled it out, expecting it to be barely over $400 take home. I was shocked to see it was just over $500 instead, only a little bit less than I normally saw. "Whoa, Tom. I think you fucked up, boss. I think you forgot to take out the amount for the credit company."

"No, I didn't. And that's the other thing I wanted to talk to you about. I've given you a raise to $18.50/hour."

"Holy shit!"

"Yeah. You're worth it." He smiled at me. "Listen, Jimmy. You've got a lot of talent and with a little bit more knowledge under your belt, you could really make some better money at this. A good carpenter makes almost $25/hour out here. You're not there yet, not by a long shot, but I know that you can get there."

He pointed west. "You get a chance, enroll in a few trade courses at NCC over the winter. They have evening classes, they know everyone has to work. You do that plus the extra work I'm going to be giving you and teaching you and I think by this time next year we can talk about another raise."

"Damn it, Tom," I couldn't keep the emotion out of my voice. "I'm blown away, boss. This is...honestly, the nicest thing anyone's done for me in a long long long time."

"I didn't do anything for you, Jimmy that you haven't earned yourself." He shook my hand and turned back to his truck. "Now get the hell out of here and go see your wife and kids. Have a good weekend, Jimmy."

"You too, boss!" I climbed into my Charger, unbuckling my toolbelt and letting it fall to the floor of the passenger seat. I gunned the engine and drove as fast as I could to the bank where I cashed my check. I divied it up in the parking lot, making an envelope for Myra and another smaller one for mom and pop. Satisfied that I still had a few bucks in my own pocket I made my way back to the highway and drove to see Myra and the J's.

I pulled up to the house a bit after 6, later than usual but not too bad. I was surprised and dismayed to see Stephanie's car in the driveway; having not seen my mother-in-law for many many months now. Be cool, Jimmy. You know she hates you and you know you hate her; so the two of you can hate one another and then go on with your lives. I unclenched my hands from the steering wheel and climbed out of my baby. The front door opened and John and Joel did their typical race across the lawn and leap at me, always trusting that I was going to catch them.

"Hey, guys!" I cried out as we spun around the driveway together, both boys hanging on to me while I carried them slowly towards the house. "How'd you know it was me?"

"We heard your car, Daddy!" "Vrooom!" "We're still coming to see you tomorrow at Gramma and Grampa's, right?" "I don't want hot dogs tomorrow, Daddy. Let's have pizza!" "Yeah, pizza's the best!" "Nah uh, Mcdonald's is the best."

"I see that you found your sons."

We had just made it to the doorway by this time when Stephanie stepped out to meet us. She was dressed fairly nice which led me to believe she was here just from work. Her eyes had that flinty edge to them; something I had grown very used to over the years. "Hey, Stephanie. Nice to see you." I hope you wither away and die you pain in my ass.

She smirked like she could read my thoughts. "Thanks, Jimmy. You're looking well."

"I'm trying." I looked past her through the front door. "Where's Myra? I have something for her."

"Ah, yes. Your envelope." She shrugged. "Myra's not here."

I glanced back in the driveway, verifying I saw her car. "Oh. Damn. I thought I'd catch her before work. Let me put you boys down a second." I lowered John and Joel to the ground and dug into my back pocket for the envelope, handing it to my mother-in-law. "Here. Can you make sure she gets it?"

She folded it back in half and stuck it in her own pocket. "I will." She paused like she was thinking and then asked, "Would you like to stay and play with the boys for a few minutes before they have to eat?"

"Oh, wow! Can you, Dad?" "That'd be great!" "Is it ok if you come in and eat dinner with us too?"

I really wanted to, but Stephanie was not Myra and there was still that damned Order of Protection in place. Not that Stephanie would turn me in, I hoped, but there was no telling who in the neighborhood would make a phone call, or what if CPS came by here on a random visit? Then we'd be back to square one and have to start all over again. Trust - easy to spend, difficult to gather.

"I'd love to boys, but Daddy can't right now. Very soon though, I'll be able to come by anytime any of us want? And besides, this is Grandma Stephanie's time and I'll get to see you both tomorrow." Seeing their small faces begin to fall I figured I should lighten the mood swiftly, "And you said no to yucky pizza, right?"

"No, Dad! We said YES to pizza!" "Pizza is the best!" "Can we get peppermaroni on it?" "I'm gonna eat two whole pieces."

"Alright, boys," Stephanie said, shooing them in the house. "Go get washed up and ready for dinner. Give your dad a kiss goodbye."

"Bye, Dad," John said as I crouched down, giving me a hug around the neck and a kiss on my cheek. "I love you."

"Love you too, John-boy." I returned his hug and kiss and released him to make room for his brother.

"Bye, Daddy!" Joel tried to wrap his arms around my chest but couldn't come close to encircling my torso yet. "I'm going to dream about you tonight, ok?"

"Sounds great to me, Joel," I held him close to me before letting him go. "I'll meet you there tonight."

I watched them go into the house, getting one last wave from them and then they were off to the bathroom. "Thanks, Stephanie. Tell Myra I came by."

"I will, Jimmy." She looked me up and down. "I...I love my grandkids, Jimmy."

I cocked my head. "Ok. Thanks?"

"No, really. I love them. Very much. I don't want to see anything bad happen to them."

Oh Lord, here we go. "Ok, Stephanie. I hear you and totally agree. Did something happen?" I know you mean me you sanctimonious bitch.

"No, Jimmy. They've had a rough year and they need a full-time set of parents."

I gritted my teeth. "I know, Stephanie. Trust me, I know. I've been busting my ass and doing everything I can - above and beyond the call of duty. CPS is easing off and I am sure it's only a matter of weeks before they give me the green light to come home."

She lowered her gaze. "Jimmy, that's great for you. It is. But did you ever think if it is what Myra wants?"

"Steph, I know she loves me."

"I know it too, Jimmy. I've never said otherwise." Her eyes fastened onto mine. "But this entire mess...it's burned a lot of the love out of my daughter. And I don't see it coming back anytime soon."

I sighed. "Steph, it's no secret that we don't really like each other. I respect that and I respect you. But this is between Myra and I. Not you."

"Jimmy, she's trying to separate from you. She's filed and has a lawyer. The paperwork is working its way through the court systems. I don't know how much clearer I can make this for you."

"What? Is it that Mark, guy?" I sneered. "Has a nice title? Big checkbook? Think he'd make a great son-in-law?"

"Strangely enough, no. I don't like this Mark very much. At all."

Well, that was a surprise!

She continued, "I think he's taking advantage of my daughter's situation and it's easy for him to spend a few dollars here and there. If she was not so overwhelmed, she'd see right through his bull in a week; but right now she is so twisted up, she thinks that his help and presence is what she needs right now. She prostituting herself in a way, like many young single mothers do in their youth, ignorance, and naivete."

Shit, she sleeping with him. Fuck you, Mark. Just fuck you.

"Right now talking to her about this is like me stepping into a minefield." She mimed blowing something up with her left hand. "Boom. She's half the time ready to rip my head off, the other half she's an emotional wreck and crying on my shoulder." Her hand curled into a ball, single finger lancing in my direction. "You are not helping the situation, Jimmy. Just give her what she wants, let her go."

"What?!"

"Listen to me. Let her go and she'll realize this Mark is a vulture more interested in sleeping with her than any long term relationship. And who knows, maybe in time, if you stay on the wagon and don't pressure her, she'll remember why she fell in love with you and you two can start again."

I looked at her like she had three heads. "Then if that is the case, why the hell would I ever do that?"

"Because, Jimmy. If you love your wife, I mean really love her, you'll realize that she's pretty screwed up right now and you dragging your feet in this matter is only screwing up your chances." She reached out and patted me on the arm. "Let her go, Jimmy. And trust me, you'll have a much better chance of getting her back."

She turned to go back in the house and then stopped to add something else. "And one more thing, Jimmy. My daughter loves you and until your drinking was getting the better of you, I really didn't have any problems with you. My grandkids and my daughter's happiness is all I care about. My grandkids absolutely adore you. And that's half the battle for me right there." She opened the screen door. "Think about it, Jimmy. And have a good night. I'll tell Myra you stopped by."

And just like that, the conversation was over. I walked back to my baby pensive, deep in thought and going over Stephanie's words again and again. It just didn't make sense, it seemed just wrong to me. Wrong. No way it was right. Time was so against me.

I arrived at my parents' house and gave mom her envelope, getting a kiss on the cheek and a thanks. I ate dinner without really listening to the conversation around me, lost in thought as I mulled over Stephanie's words. When I was finished I wandered out to my baby and went through the box of broken tools in my trunk, deciding what I was going to work on fixing next.

The minutes ticked by and I had replaced two handles on a pair of broken lightweight ball peen hammers I had picked out of the dumpster recently when I noticed the time was getting late. I tossed everything into my backseat and poked my head through the side door to tell my mom and pop I was on my way to my meeting.

"Have a good time, Jimmy," my mom answered.

"Hey, Jim!" My pop shouted before I could close the door.

"Yeah?"

"Tim called earlier. Said he needed to talk to you. Give him a call back."

"Alright, Thanks pop. See you later!"

Why the hell didn't he call my cell? What? Did he lose the number again? I drove away at a slow pace, fumbling with my own phone and putting it on the cradle near the radio. I dialed Tim's number and put the phone on speaker, listening to the four rings before his voice sounded. "Hey! This is Tim. Leave a message."

"Tim, Jimmy here. Calling you back. I'm at my meeting, I'll be out after 9. What did you need? Give a call. Later!"

Before too long I pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. A few of the regulars gave me a wave and I returned it absently. I sat on the right side of the meeting hall and even though I was there physically, mentally I was elsewhere. When it broke up I made my way slowly outside and sat in my Charger, staring straight through the windshield, not really seeing anything. I was going to have to get off dead center regarding Myra and soon.

I started the car and glanced at my phone, noting I missed three messages, all from Tim. "What the hell, man? I said I'd be out after 9." I hit redial, pulled out of the parking lot, and placed the call on speaker listening to it ring once before he picked up.

"H'lo? Jimmy? H'lo?"

"Tim. Yeah, it's me. What's up, man?"

"Dude. I need you. I need some help, man."

He sounded stressed out, his voice was cracking. "Alright, man. Alright. What's up. Where are you? What do you need?"

"Jimmy, I need you man. Come to my mom's. I fucked up, man. I fucked up and I need some help. Can you help me, man?"

"Yeah, Tim. Relax, dude. I'm on my way. Are you ok? What happened?"

"I'll explain when you get here, bud. I can't...I can't thank you enough."

I hung up and stepped on the accelerator. NA and AA were pretty much the same so I had some idea that Tim was probably high. Dumb fucker. What the hell was wrong with you? Some backsliding was expected, there was no hard fast rule who was going to stumble along the way. I was pretty thankful that I had no major issues so far, but that was no guarantee I wouldn't have a rough patch in the future.

Turning down Tim's block I was dismayed to see his car in the street, the entire side of it crumpled and dented. He was standing there, hopping from foot to foot, wringing his hands together and was carrying a huge dufflebag. As I rolled to a stop next to him I was able to see the dark circles under his eyes and the bloodshot lines running through them. "Jimmy!" He yelped, stepping around to the driver's door to help me out. "Thank god. Thank god."

"Tim. What the fuck, man? What happened to your car?"

"I came home for dinner, right. Dinner? And some jerk hit my car. I mean, just hit it! And drove off! Did you ever? I mean, ever hear of that shit?"

I looked him over. "Tim, are you high?"

"No. Nah. Nope, just had a spliff, man. Just one."

"Fuck, man. Why?"

"Why? WHY?! Because I have a bag to deliver, man. A bag I took earlier and I'm supposed to deliver it, man. And I ain't got a car! No wheels! Because someone hit my car, now I've gone and not gonna be able to make the delivery! You know what happens when that happens? Fucked up! Fucked up indeed! My nerves are shot. Shot. So I rolled one, just one, only one...maybe two, I don't know. I'm not an accountant, man. I need you, man."

"Tim. Let me call Father Mike, or your counselor. You got a mentor? Someone I can call for you?"

He grabbed me by the shoulder, squeezing me through the jacket. "Aren't you hearing me? I HAVE to make this delivery. I have to. No choice. I have to get there. And I have no wheels. I need you, Jimmy."

"Tim, I'm not sure that taking you anywhere is a good idea."

"Jimmy, please. Please, bud. For everything I've ever done for you. I love you, man. I love you so much. I wanted to be you so bad growing up. And now, now that I need you, you aren't thinking about helping me."

"I'm not saying that, Tim."

"Tell you what," his eyes were so wide, pupils dilated, "you do this, you drive me to the 7-11 where I'm supposed to meet those guys and I'll go with you anywhere you think I should go. You tell me, I'll go. Talk to the counselor? Done! Hospital? You got it! Tie me to a bed and pour coffee down my throat? Whatever you suggest. Please, Jimmy. Please. Please, bud. Don't let me down."

His pleading and begging were now approaching pathetic. His gaze was dancing everywhere and he was almost sobbing and gasping for air. I had to calm him down and then get him someplace where he could come down. I had a feeling he had done something more that pot but knew that I wasn't going to get a real answer. Not until he was more relaxed.

"Ok, Tim. I'll go with you. I'll drive, ok?"

His eyes spilled over and he hugged me tight, his moaning sobs rumbling in my chest. "Thank you, Jimmy. Thank you so much. You've saved my life man. Saved it!"

"Ok, ok. Get in. Put the duffle in the back." I watched him carefully as he put bag back there, hearing the clanking of tools and other construction material I had back there clattering around. Once satisfied he climbed in the passenger seat, put on his seat belt, and looked over at me with a sick and sad smile.

I turned the Charger around and asked him, "Ok? Which 7-11?"

"Exit 64 on the LIE. Medford."

I gawked at him? "Seriously?! Dude, that's all the way in Suffolk! What? 40 minutes or so? Why so far?"

"That's where I have to go, man! That's where. I don't make it up, that's where I have to go. I pick up this bag from Roosevelt Field and drive out to Medford and give it to the guys there by 10. They give me a bag to bring back to the guy in Roosevelt and I get $300 for it."