One for the Road

I want to thank everyone for their votes, comments, and feedback. It really means a lot to me to have your words and to know you took the time out to write them.

This is chapter 4 and there is only 1 chapter left to go in this story. This chapter is a bit meaty at 15k words so keep that in mind if you have a problem with longer tales.

I also want to thank everyone who commented on their own personal aspects and stories, it's humbling to hear from you.

Like a great writer once said: Write what you know. So that's what this is, me writing what I know.

There will be no needles in your sleeping eyeballs or sudden Navy Seal assaults or deciding to suck your wife's bull's dick or sharing your girlfriend with your poker buddies. This is as close to reality as I could get it and still tell the story.

Enjoy! -V

*****

I drove away with no idea where I was going to go next. The dashboard clock was showing 5:13 and it was Christmas Day. My head felt foggy, like I was still trying to wake up; my thoughts unfocused and fragmented. All I could honestly say was that I punched my pop. Hard. And with malice.

Fuck.

I drove aimlessly for a while until I ended up by the High School. It was quiet here, even the security and rent-a-cops were nowhere to be found. I pulled around back near the football field and parked as close to the bleachers as I could. Then I reached into the back seat and struggled into my navy blue parka and flipped the hood up. Digging around under the seat I pulled up the bottle of whiskey I had there and took a swig.

For the first time in a while, the drink didn't give me an immediate rush. Sure I felt better taking a swallow, but it didn't make me feel better deep inside where it counted. So I took another one. Nope, same thing.

By the time I took the third drink I was growing frantic in my inability to get anything out of the alcohol I was guzzling. Why wasn't it working? What was wrong? I could feel hot tears boiling in my eyes, falling down my face like twin streams of acid scoring my flesh.

And then I cried. I cried like I can't remember ever crying before. Here I was sitting in my Charger behind the high school, Christmas day, bitterly cold out, removed from my wife and kids, no one I could go to, and just chased out of my parents' house after hitting my pop. I had no job and no one else I could call. And it pulled at me, tearing at me, bringing me so far down I couldn't see sky above.

I hugged the bottle to my chest as I rocked in my seat, great sobs tearing free. It hurt, it hurt so much. I could feel my legs curling up underneath as I rolled to the side, trying to keep warm and sane in the silence of my despondency. I couldn't imagine ever being this sad before and couldn't fathom ever wanting to feel this terrible again.

It was in this state of sorrow and misery that I slipped from consciousness and fell asleep; the sound of the cold winter wind whipping through the metal struts of the bleachers playing harmony against the melody of moaning sobs that tiredly fell from my lips.

I awoke slowly, something irritating my eyes. A tapping, continuous tapping like pebbles in a tin can. One a time. Falling, falling. Tap tap tap...tap tap tap. And against a brightness to the world beyond my eyes. I twisted my neck a tiny bit and it felt like a thousand volts tear through my spine; the cold had seeped into my bones and froze me in rictus place. I groaned and tried to stretch out the mounting agony in my back and shoulders; making some effort to return myself to the land of the living.

I was so cold. My hands and face and ankles had a chilly numbness to them, too long exposed to the stillness of the cold air of late December. I cracked my lids and tried to look around, the blinding light from the side window piercing my skull like a throbbing spike. "Hey! Buddy! You ok?"

Groaning, I tried to pull myself upright and instead had my gut flipflop under my belt. My gorge rose but luckily I hadn't eaten anything recently so I was able to keep myself from letting go. Looking to my left I was able to see the outline of someone in a coat and a cop's hat shining a flashlight through my window, a concerned expression on his face. I leaned forward and started my baby, the engine thrumming to life and the sound of the vents blowing air (currently cold). I then slowly hit the button for the window and let the auto-slide finish the job for me. A blast of cool yet fresh air filled the interior of the Charger and helped me to centralize my focus.

"Yeah," I croaked, coughing to clear my throat. "Yeah, I'm ok."

"You know this is not a parking lot. You can't stay here."

I took a closer and more awake look at my night time visitor. It was a Nassau cop and he had to be in his late 50's. He was bundled up in his cop's coat but still managed to look every part the police officer. "I'm sorry, officer," I said with a stronger voice. "I wasn't planning on stopping here."

He studied my face, shining the flashlight over it and across the interior of my car. He noted my hastily packed bags tossed haphazardly on my back seat, my somewhat slovenly appearance, and lastly the empty (empty??) bottle of Jameson Whiskey lying on the passenger seat. In a spate of sudden compassion I wasn't expecting he asked, "Are you ok? Do you have nowhere else you can go?"

I wasn't going to break down in front of this cop, no chance. So I took a moment to compose myself before answering. "Yes officer, I'm fine. And no, not at this time I don't have anywhere I can go."

He stared at me, lips pursed as he thought deep and hard. I was hoping he would just give me a break. Please, just leave me be. "Well," he said slowly, "It's almost 11: 30 and you really shouldn't be out here. I would really need to ask you to move on,"

Ah, shit. Fuck me. God damn it.

He continued after a long pause. "But, it is Christmas and no one would be out here if they didn't need to be. I'll tell you what. I'll come by here again at 6 and get you to move then. That should give you some time to get some sleep and get that," he pointed to the whiskey bottle, "out of your system."

"Oh, gods. Thanks officer. Really. Thanks."

"It's ok, son." He turned the flashlight away. "Just do yourself a favor and run the car once in a while to keep the heat up. It's going to get cold." He paused. "Are you sure I can't drive you somewhere?"

I shook my head. "No. Honestly thanks so much. But this will be fine. Really."

"Alright." He turned to go. "For what it's worth, Merry Christmas."

I swallowed the sudden lump in my throat. "You too, officer."

I watched him turn slowly in the parking lot and drive away, leaving me in the lonely darkness. I sat in my car and let the heater warm up the interior before killing the engine once more. Rummaging around the back I pulled over a pair of sweatshirts and draped them along my lower half. Then I lay back once again and stared out the window at the sky above, just watching the darkness and letting myself fall asleep.

When I awoke next it was still dark, but this time I wasn't as startled to see the cop knocking on my window. I started the car and cracked the window. "Hello, officer."

"Hello, son. You feeling any better?"

I nodded. "Much. Thanks."

"I hate to do this, but I'm going to half to ask you to move on."

"It's not a problem, officer. I'm on my way."

"Good luck to you."

I buckled up and drove slowly out of the high school parking lot and made my way back to Main Street. Once there I drove slowly up the road until I spotted a Dunkin Donuts. Not much else was open the morning after Christmas at 6:30, so I was happy to get what I was able to. I went in, had a coffee and two egg sandwiches. Once fortified I had the lady bag me up 6 donuts, paid my bill, and drove away, heading toward Jerry and Grace's.

I pulled up in front of their house and sat there for a few minutes, debating on whether I was going to go to the door or not. Finally I screwed up my courage and strode up the walk, knocking on the door with two sets of three sharp raps. I heard some movement inside and then Jerry opened the door in a bathrobe and a set of shorts. "Jimmy? Holy crap, Jimmy!" He stepped forward, embracing me hard and giving me a few claps on the back. I returned the greeting and just felt so good to have someone happy to see me. "Man, are you a sight for sore eye. Come in, come in." He escorted me inside and called out, "Grace! Jimmy's here!"

"Thanks, Jerry." I offered him the donuts. "Merry Christmas. I hate to come by this early, man."

"Think nothing of it. Come in." I followed him to the kitchen where he turned on the coffee maker and placed the Dunkin bag on the table. "I heard from Myra about a week or so ago."

My skin ran cold. "Oh."

"Yeah, I was looking for you. Grace and I were having a Pre-Christmas party and wanted to invite the 4 of you. She told me that you were having some problems and were living with your parents."

I swallowed, my mouth dry. "Yeah. It's been...rough."

"I can imagine." He shook his head. "Damn, buddy. I can't even imagine what you're going through."

"Listen, Jerry. I need a favor from you."

"What is it?"

I hesitated and then squared my shoulders. "I need a place to crash for a little bit." I saw his eye unfocus and his mouth grow slack, which had me press on. "Just a couch, and only a few days. Two, three tops."

Jerry thought about it and then nodded. "Not a problem, pal. I'm mostly off for the week so it should be ok. Let me just clear it with Grace and you can stay here."

"Clear what with me?" His wife walked in, wearing a sweat shirt and pants, leaning over to give me a kiss on the cheek. "Hey, Jimmy. I heard what's going on. I'm so sorry."

"Thanks, Grace."

"Honey," Jerry said, "Jimmy needs a place to stay for a few days and I told him he can stay with us as long as it's ok with you."

Grace gave her husband a hundred-watt smile and replied, "Sure, dear. I'll get out some sheets for you Jimmy." She gave me a once over, noting my state of 'disrepair'. "Say, you want to use the bathroom and maybe freshen up? Take a shower?"

"Oh gods, Grace. That'd be wonderful. Do you mind?"

She giggled. "Not at all. Let me get you some towels."

The shower felt really nice, the water was hotter than I had been used to and the shampoo wasn't that $.99 Suave stuff we had been using for the last few years. Once I was finished I hated to bother my friends but needed to get my clothes clean so asked if I could use the washer and dryer. They agreed with good natured hospitality and I put a load up.

Throughout the day whenever they weren't busy with Brittany, their daughter, or anything that needed to get done, I had to opportunity to fill Jerry in on what was going with me; but from my perspective. He listened quietly and I appreciated that he kept his counsel to himself for the most part. It was obvious to me though that he had already been prejudiced from hearing Myra first from some of his leading questions and comments.

"Wow, but don't you think that maybe she had a point?"

"I can see that. But I guess when the kids are involved she had to do what was right by them first."

"I couldn't imagine the therapy not working at all since they've had such a success rate."

"I'm sure your parents were only hoping to help and they are hurting too."

On the 27

th

Jerry had to go to work for a few hours since his company was on half days during the Christmas break and I had a couple hours to kill before having to ride out to Phoenix House. Grace was taking care of Brittany when the dishwasher buzzed and she asked me if I could "be a dear and empty it for me?"

So I rolled off the couch and emptied the dishes and glasses, putting them in the cabinet for her. I did the same for the silverware, dumping it in the drawer before finishing the job and then returning to the couch. A little while later I could hear her clattering around in the kitchen as if she was looking for something and then the same sort of noises came from the dishwasher as well. I kept my attention focused on Maury for a while and tried to ignore the banging. At 11 I thanked Grace for her time and mentioned I'd be home after 4:30 when the therapy ended. She waved goodbye but I don't think I heard her actually say anything. Weird.

Sally tried to pump me for information but I wasn't going to go into a diatribe about the bullshit I had over the holidays with my parents, instead only saying that we had a rough time but were past it now. The end of the day couldn't come fast enough for me and I took my time drive back to Jerry and Grace's. stopping near the park to drink two beers I had in my trunk; trying to stay on my plan of weaning myself off the alcohol. By the time I got back to the Zavers' I was feeling much better about my situation and was more of my normal happy self.

Jerry was a bit cooler tonight and Grace seemed like she was less happy than the other day. I tried to stay out of their way and had a good night's sleep on their couch. It was on the morning of the 29

th

and Jerry stopped to chat with me while I was eating some Frosted Flakes in the kitchen for breakfast.

"Hey, bud. How was your night?"

I swallowed my cereal and nodded my head. "Pretty good, man. Thanks for asking."

"Good. Good." He checked his watch. "Say, listen. Grace's mom is coming out to stay with us for a week or so for New Years and it's kind of a pain in the ass, you know?"

I chuckled. "Yeah. Stephanie and I didn't quite get along as well."

"Tell me about it. So listen, I have to keep the peace and when she comes out it's a complete domination of my time and the house. I hate to do this, but, do you think you'd go back to your parents' while she's here? It's just that with her here, I can't get anything done and you'd be real uncomfortable."

I shrugged. "I ain't going back to mom and pop's right now. My pop keeps his mad on for a little bit and this hasn't been nearly enough time." Taking another spoonful I thought about my situation. "I can give Brian a call and see if he'll let me crash there for a bit."

Jerry smiled and I felt better I was able to help my buddy out like this. So before I had to go to Phoenix House, I bagged up all my stuff, thanked Jerry and Grace so much for their hospitality, gave Jerry a $20 with my thanks for feeding me and letting me use their shower and wash and stuff, and drove off to therapy. After my time there I went to Brian's and got him and his wife Laura to let me stay there "till just after New Year's. Promise."

Laura was not a nice person. She was judgmental to Brian, didn't drink or smoke and looked down at people who did, was one of those broads that you felt needed to really get laid hard just to crack a smile and even then it was only because she was contemplating on spending your paycheck. I stayed there for two days and I had to admit, it was a real strain on my friendship with Brian not to call his wife a "stuck up bible-thumping closet lesbian cunt".

So there it was, New Year's Eve, December 31

st

and I was out of my next buddy's house and contemplating going to Tim's or driving out to Patchogue to stay with Scott. I was still in touch with mom every day and even though pop wasn't talking to me at all, we still managed to talk about everything. Plus, all my mail still came to my parent's house until I could find a new place to stay; unemployment statements as well as any paperwork from the courts.

Mom had just told me about a formal demand for child support from Myra and that it needed to be fulfilled by January 4

th

to the tune of 25% of all my income - including unemployment. "Mom," I said exasperated, "That's bullshit. I barely get $300 from the government as it is each week and I have to give her $75 of it? Can they do that?"

"I don't know, Jimmy. But Myra's pretty desperate. You father and I have helped out where we could and I understand that her supervisor took pity on her and gave her more hours. But the extra hours only go so far and when she works, either her mom or I have to babysit."

I sighed. "This would all go away if the social workers would just let me come home."

"Jimmy. They'll do that when they are good and ready, not a minute earlier."

"I don't see how I'm supposed to afford to give her this money. I'm practically living in my car as it is."

"I don't know, son. But this is a pretty official looking letter and I wouldn't ignore it if I were you."

"Alright mom. I'll give my lawyer guy a call and make sure that I have to do this. If he says yes, then yes it is. Even if it's bullshit."

"Keep me posted, Jimmy. I love you and happy New Year. Let's hope next year is a better one."

"Me too, mom. Happy New Year to you and pop too." I chuckled. "Are you going to make it to midnight this time?"

She laughed. "I have to. We're babysitting J&J tonight and they are going to want to bang the pots and pans."

"All night?"

"Yes. Myra's having a much needed night out with some friends. The poor dear has been burning the candle at both ends for a while now. So your father and I agreed to watch the boys for her."

I was bothered. "So she can go out with her girlfriends for a night on the town but I try to arrange a dinner at Bracco's three months ago and she blows me off? That's crap, mom. Plain and simple."

"James," my mother's voice grew firmer. "Myra's been the sole parent and guardian for a while now. She has Child Services coming in, the lawyer's issues, the stress of the house, not enough money coming, and the extra time at work - besides all her normal daily activities. In this case, we're happy she's going out to let her hair down."

"Maybe," I grumbled. "It still sucks."

"I don't know what you want me to say, Jimmy." My mom sighed into the phone. "Listen, just have a good night and call me tomorrow to tell me where you are, ok?"

"Will do. Good night, mom."

"Good night, Jimmy."

I drove to Phoenix House, the anger once again slowly roiling about my midsection. What the fuck was all that happy horseshit? I'm scrambling for a place to live and Myra's out doing whatever for New Year's? And for that matter, with who? My blood ran cold and the viper in my veins suddenly grew wings. What if it's a guy she's going out with? Bullshit. That's all this entire mess is. Bullshit.

My time with Sally could not have been any less productive if my nuts were on fire. She prattled on and on and finally at the end of it fixed me with a solid glare and asked, "So, James, you have not been focused this entire time. Is there something wrong? Anything? You can tell me."

"Nah, Sally. It's fine. Everything is fine. I guess it's just almost a new year, new beginnings, we only have a week or two of this left and then the courts can let me see my kids and wife."

She frowned, her brows creasing. "Oh, my. Oh, my. No, no, James. It doesn't work quite like that."

The anger I had been barely containing suddenly slipped a few links off the chain, changing into a mixture of cold and hot fury. I could feel the fire in the back of my eyes as I looked at the older woman with ill restrained feelings. "What do you mean it 'doesn't work quite like that'? I've been coming here every day I have to for a month plus, there's a week or two left, and the 6 week requirement is complete. That's what I was told. That's what was supposed to happen."

"James, we are here to make sure that you have a hold and handle on your alcoholism." She pointed at me. "See that? Every time I say 'alcoholic' or a word like it in reference to you, you cringe and your eyes narrow. Indicating that you don't like the term, and that you don't see yourself as one."