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One For the Road Ch. 05

By: Vanadorn



This is the final chapter of this story and it should bring the tale of James, Myra, John and Joel to an end. It might have felt wordy to some but I didn't rush it and let it tell its tale at its own speed. It is not for everyone, and that's ok. Some people like Vanilla, others Chocolate, and still others prefer New York Super Fudge Chunk. 

The resolution of this tale is based on the real world that we live in, not the fantasy world of "man, if I had money to burn, the feelings of a snake, and there were no consequences for anything I do I could get away with whatever I want!" 

My tale does not fit comfortably into any sub-genre, and that's not a problem. 

Thanks to everyone for reading. Please vote and comment. J 

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

Again, no...actually this time, for this last chapter, there are no restrictions. ;). However, this is still as close to reality as I can get it and tell the story. 

Enjoy! -V 

***** 

Eventually John, Joel, and I all calmed down enough from our reunion to take a look around us. My parents were openly sobbing, mom hunched into pop's chest. Father Michael was wiping his eyes on the back of his sleeves. Even the CPS bitch was crying, rooting around her purse for a tissue and trying to dry her nose and face. 

"How?" I began choking, trying again. "Was this planned? How'd you boys know to come here? Is this ok? Where's..."I swallowed, looking towards the gate, "Where's mom?" 

John wiped his cheeks on the side of my shirt, not letting go of my neck to do so. "Mom's not here. She set up the visit for us with Gramma and Granpa and Father Mikey. Said we had to be on our bestest behavior no matter what. Were you surprised, Dad? Were you? You didn't know? Did you?" 

"No, John-boy. You got me good." I ruffled his hair, just amazed to even look at him. He and his brother had changed and grown so much in the six months ; letting me know just how much I missed out. "And you, Joel," I cupped him under his chin and tilted his head up to me. "Have you been a good boy for mommy?" 

"I..." my youngest made to speak but the words seemed to get caught in his throat. He stammered a bit and then shook his head. "No, Daddy. I wasn't good. Not at all." 

I felt sad, lost in my younger son's words. "Why Joel? Why?" 

He sniffled. "Because Mommy didn't want you home anymore. It's her fault. And she knows I miss you." He pulled himself tight against me, holding on like I was going to disappear on him. 

Fuck me. My kids were fucked up over this. For the millionth time I hated myself and my drinking. "Joel, look at me," I said, holding his chin until he met my gaze. "Don't blame Mommy, ok? It's not her fault. Daddy was...sick. And I couldn't come home." 

"Can you come home now, Daddy? Are you better?" 

I smiled, lying to my son. "I'd love to come home, champ. Both of you," bringing John into my refreshed embrace. "But Daddy is still a little sick and needs to stay with Grandma and Grandpa for a bit." I looked over at the CPS worker and asked, "But maybe it would be ok if I could call and talk you both soon? What do you think?" 

She once again wiped her tears away and said, "I can certainly see if that would be a problem. I'll let you know soon." 

I spent the next two hours with my sons, never letting them out of my sight for a minute, touching them constantly, holding their hands, and eventually, rough housing with them on the lawn after we ate lunch. But this was not to be a long visit as evidenced by the CPS rep and Father Michael checking their watches and then indicating to my boys that it was "just about time to go." 

"But!" They complained loudly. "But we don't WANT to go! Can't we stay longer? Daddy, don't make us go! We want to stay with you!" 

Each cry was a fresh dagger to my heart. I could only look at the two of them with pleading eyes and offer them my arms to hold. Nothing came out when I opened my mouth, only squeaks and moans instead of words. What the hell could I possibly say to my sons? Anything? Nothing? 

I stood up, lifting both of them with me, turning to Father Mike. "It's ok. Where do you want me to bring them? Is...is Myra coming here to pick them up?" He nodded and I swallowed the rock in my throat. "Ok, then. I guess she's here?" 

"Yes, Jimmy. She texted Rebecca and me a minute ago." 

Rebecca. Ok, the CPS bitch had a name. Good to know. "Alright." I gave John and Joel a fresh squeeze. "Ok boys. Mom's here. Let's get you out there." 

As I was walking around to the gate John asked, "When can we see you again, Daddy?" 

"I don't know. But I promise you it will be soon. You have my word." 

We wandered out front and there was Myra's Sedona at the bottom of my parents' driveway. She had the sliding door open and was wearing a pretty pink short-sleeve shirt and a pair of cut off blue jeans. Her hair was swept up in a ponytail and she had on a thin layer of makeup. In short, she was heartbreakingly beautiful. 

However, even though she was standing there next to the open sliding door, one hand on the handle waiting to load up our kids, what captured my attention was the guy seen through the window in the driver's seat. Some guy, driving my wife's mini-van, coming with her to pick up my kids from a supervised visit. 

I stood there, staring at my wife with a stunned expression. She was just as surprised to see me come around the front of the house. Her surprise changed to embarrassment as she realized the very awkward and explosive situation she had placed us both in. There was some terrible anger in my chest swelling up like a windblown storm, bringing a flush to my neck and a river of sweat down my spine. 

With reserved care I lowered my sons to the ground, not trusting myself to walk any closer to Myra. "Ok boys," I said with a friendly smile that failed to reach my eyes, "Give your DAD one last hug and remember how much I love you and missed you." They each latched on to me one more time, holding me far longer than expected, venturing into embarrassing as I had to pry their hands away and remind them that their mother was waiting. "I'll see you both soon. Scout's honor." 

"Bye Dad! We love you Dad! You're the best Dad!" 

They finally made it to the Kia where they immediately bombarded Myra and Mark...fuck you Mark, just fuck you...with how great it was to see me and how much they wanted me to come home. Myra was absently listening, her entire being troubled as she buckled them in. Once done she shut the door and turned back to me, almost 20' away. "Happy Memorial Day, James," she said, giving me a small wave. 

"Thanks, Myra," I replied, barely holding my combined rage and pride in check. Ok, this was a flash point, a trigger moment for me. I could feel the rising tidal wave of the want that was my desire for a drink suddenly swamp over my internal shores. But I was not going to cave in to it. No fucking way, Myra. Not a chance. You are NOT going to drive me to drink. 

Fuck no. 

"I wanted to thank you for your note." She looked into her car at Mark and then back at me. "Listen, I'd like to call you. Can I call you later this week?" I nodded, not trusting myself to talk. "Terrific. Thanks again." She waved to everyone else standing behind me, wishing them all a happy holiday, and then climbed into the vehicle while Mark...fuck you Mark, just fuck you...drove my wife and waving kids away. 

When it was obvious that they were out of sight, I felt the last of my energy burn out and my legs collapsed underneath me. I hit the blacktop like a sack of wet shit and lay crumpled over my own midsection, tears silently falling down my cheeks. On one side I could feel my mom hugging me and on my other Father Mike was slinging one arm over his shoulder. My pop was standing between my splayed out legs, hoisting me up from under my armpits and saying, "It's alright there, Jimmy. We've got you. Come on, boy. Up and at'em." 

They got me upright and walked me like an old man back behind the fence. Even that bitch Rebecca steadied my chair and then gave me a glass of water once I was seated. 

"How do you feel, Jimmy," Father Michael asked, staring at me deeply. I could tell by the reflection in his piercing eyes that he knew exactly how I was feeling...and more importantly, what it was I wanted. 

"I feel like crap, Father. I feel like crap because I miss my kids terribly, I have no one to blame for that except myself. I feel like crap because I miss my wife, but Myra showed up with that...fucker Mark. Fuck you Mark, just fuck you." I bowed my head. "But more importantly Father, I feel like crap because after what I just experienced - I would really like a drink." 

No one said anything, just watching me. "Ok, Jimmy," Father Mike said supportively. "I can hear that. This has been the most terrible of days for you." He paused. "Would you like me to get you a drink?" 

I wrestled with my tongue, my heart, my brain, my guts, my wants, my needs, my desires. I combated with all the parts that were Jimmy Skelly, doing battle in the burning field of my mind until I had an answer for that dangerous question. "Father Mike, I would like you to get me a drink. But, I do not NEED you to get me a drink. I'm here now...because of my drinking. And I don't want to be here anymore. So no, I'm good." I could feel my lips twist into a smirk as I said it. "I've got it. I'm good." 

Rebecca hung out for only a few more minutes before excusing herself and telling me that she was going to give her superiors a complete report of the day and how positive it was for the children. Ok, thanks, maybe you aren't a complete slack-jawed bitch. Maybe. 

After she left Father Mike dug out a small package for me. "Here you go, Jimmy. A little something from me to you; assuming that this visit and your conduct afterwards was going to go well." 

"I assume since I'm opening it, you're not unhappy." 

"Well, not terribly," he said with a grin. I unwrapped the brown paper and was looking at a small stack of CD's. "I understand from talking to your parents that your original collection, although not extensive, did not survive your time off the ranch. So I figured a few from me to get you back on track couldn't hurt." 

"Metallica? AC/DC? Meatloaf? Again I ask you, what kind of priest are you?" We all shared an easy laugh. I held up the 4th disk, a plain writable CD. "What's this one?" 

"That one is from me. It's a small smattering of inspirational stories I had collected over the years as my time as a counselor along with some positive things to help out people going through the same stuff you are now. Think of it as a personal gift from me to you." 

I shook his hand. "Thanks, Father Mike. For this and just about everything." 

"My pleasure, Jimmy." 

I sighed. "It's a shame though. The radio in my Charger has been missing for some time. I'm getting it replaced maybe in a few months when I can save up for it. My bills are climbing pretty damned high lately." 

"Well, Jimmy," my pop volunteered, "I guess that's where your mom and I come in next." He motioned to Father Mike. "We sort of knew what was coming your way, especially since we told him what you like to listen to." He was smiling. 

My mom reached behind her chair and handed me a gift bag. "So in honor of you getting through today and making us proud, your father and I got you this." 

"What is it?" I took it from her and looked inside past the tissue paper. I pulled out the compact box, turning it around to reveal a Dual XDMA car radio/CD player with Bluetooth. "Holy crap!" I exclaimed, flipping it over. "Wow! Guys, I'm really touched! Hot damn!" I reached over and gave my parents each a warm hug, coming back around to Father Mike and offering him one as well. "Shit. This is god damned sweet. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to install it now." They wished me well, laughing as I worked my way to my baby and began working under her dashboard. It took the better part of the remaining afternoon but I got the radio in. It sounded great, the CDs worked fine, and if I had a phone once again, I'm sure the Bluetooth would be a boon. One thing at a time, Jimmy. One at a time. 

The rest of the shorter week was fairly uninteresting, which didn't bother me in the slightest. I could use some boring. Tom continued to be a terrific boss and I worked my ass off for him. I never bitched about the heat, never tried to slack off, and watched everything his workers did, trying to learn by observation. 

It was Thursday night, the sky was filled with heat lightning from the scorcher of the day, I had come back from an AA meeting just a little while ago. My mother knocked on my door and asked, "Jimmy? You decent?" 

"Yeah, mom. What's up?" 

She stuck her hand in and gave me the cordless phone. "It's for you." She paused, eyes hooded. "It's Myra." 

I took it from her and whispered, "thanks," and then sat down on my bed, phone held in my hands. Steeling myself I lifted it to my ear and said, "Hello?" softly. 

There was a moment of silence and then my wife's voice came on. "Hey, James. Thanks for taking my call." 

"No problem, babes...er...Myra." I wanted to punch myself. 

"James, I wanted to call and talk to you about the separation." 

I held the phone away, staring at it like it was full of shit. "Sure, Myra. But I want to remind you, I'll never sign any paper. Ever. We're married, till death do us part." 

"James," she said slowly, the voice filled with the same drawn out lilt that she often adopted when I was pissing her off slowly. Tough shit. "I don't want to fight with you." 

I counted to three very slowly and then let my breath out. "Ok. You're right. Let's talk. Tell me why you can't wait to divorce me and get it on with Mark the Moneybags." 

"I thought you didn't want to fight?" 

I sighed. "Maybe a little bit. Myra, how could you do this? How could you do this to me?" 

"James!" Her voice grew sharp and filled with emotional tacks. "Don't you see?! It's all stemmed from you! You! You're the start and middle of this entire mess! You! All we're trying to do, any and all of us, is pick up the pieces YOU shattered in your wake!" She lowered her voice slightly. "You were NOT here. You have NO idea the sacrifices I've had to make, the stress I've been under, and the weight I've been knuckling down to. All you KNEW was where your next god damned drink was coming from and then that horrible day before Thanksgiving. When you...you put your hands on me. Oh god, James." 

All I heard was weeping on the phone. Gut wrenching weeping. The old me would have fired back with happy horseshit but two months of diligent sobriety had given me a clearer view of my part in this. And my part was tremendously huge. Time to man up a bit, Jimmy. 

"Myra. Myra, babes. Calm down," I muttered into the receiver. "Come on babes, it's ok. It's ok. Calm down. You're right, Myra. You're right." 

"What?" she croaked. 

"You're right, honey," I said the words, hearing them rattle around my bedroom. And for a nice change, I sort of believed them "I'm...I'm a dick." 

"Yes," she replied, which had us both laughing. 

"I really fucked us up, huh?" 

"For a while, Jimmy." 

"Do you...do you think there's any hope for us Myra?" Fuck, Jimmy, why the fuck did you ask that? You sound pathetic man. Fucking pussy. Wimp shit asshole. 

"I...I can't answer that, James. I can't." Her voice sounded like piled crystal, fragile and ready to crumble. 

I sighed, "Alright. I wish you had more faith in me, babes." 

"Jimmy, you broke me. I tried to believe you, I tried to look past, but after this last year or two, I don't have it anymore. And now, I have to do what's best for John and Joel." 

"I'm what's best for them, Myra. Not Mark." 

"James, that's not what I meant." 

I lay back in the bed, head propped up on the pillow. "What did you mean, Myra? Tell me." 

"The lawyers and Child Services have been so terrible. And they can come in whenever they want, James." I could tell she was crying on her end, so I gave her a few moments of silence to pull herself together and continue. "They would come by three, four times a week. And it was always when John was acting out, or Joel was mad at me. And the things they would say and write and report were just so...skewed terribly!" 

"So it was after Valentine's Day and I was feeling very lonely without you, stressed out, and without any hope. There was almost no oil and I couldn't get a delivery which meant the boys and I had the heat down to 55 in the house and were boiling pots of water on the stove to keep warm. I was getting asked out almost constantly at work; everyone there knew our situation since I had to tell my manager Linda why I needed the extra hours and she can't keep her mouth shut for anything." 

"Go on," I offered, getting into her tale besides myself; realizing that my family's issues during this time were again, my fault. 

"So it was a pretty bad visit and I got the J's to sleep when Ms. Desano, that was the typical visitor from CPS, wanted to know how much longer I was going to risk my children since it was obvious I didn't want them. I was flabbergasted; didn't want them? How could she say that? Why would she say that? She then went on to say that since I was not filing for a separation from you at this time when it would be very easy to get one, I was therefore hoping to have you come back and be around the boys. And since the boys were already barely acceptable in my presence, she indicated that if you were coming home it was only going to have to force CPS to step in and 'make a drastic living change for the children and their welfare'." 

I sat there, mouth open, stunned. "They said that?" 

"I swear, Jimmy. Pretty much word for word. We can't afford a lawyer, I don't know any and neither do you, and they were already interviewing other people who would be 'better suited as interim guardians' for the boys." 

"Fuck me," I swore. 

"It was after that visit that I had a long talk with mom and your parents. I explained the situation and went over it again and again." She paused, I could tell she was wrung out. "Jimmy, the boys come first. More than me. More than you. The boys are first. You had months...years to get your drinking under control, and you didn't. So I had and have to make decisions that don't include you in them." 

What was I supposed to say to that? Really, was there anything I could say? "I...Fuck, Myra. Just, fuck." 

"I know, Jimmy." 

"Now what?" 

I heard her take a deep breath. "Can we talk about the separation?" 

"I can't, Myra. I just can't. It's not in me to talk about it." I sat up. "Look, I'm not putting my head in the sand here. I just am not prepared to give you a divorce. Not now, not ever." 

"Jimmy, please." 

"No, Myra. In this I can't let you go. I can't. I'm fighting, babes. Every day I'm fighting an uphill battle against ice and rocks and god knows what rolling down at me. And yes, I might have gotten buried a bit, but I'm not going to just give up. Stubborn prick that I am; this time it's going to work for me. And the truth is: you're my wife. Those are our kids. And we're married no matter what." 

She was crying on her end, and it tore me up. But I wasn't going to let it go. Not this. Not the last thing. Myra was mine - and fuck off Mark. Just fuck you. Don't get comfortable there you prick. Don't you dare. I'm coming for you in my own way. "Listen, Myra. Listen." 

I heard her sniffle. "What, James. What?" 

"I've got a job. It's been paying ok, and I'm learning a lot. Well, anyway. I know there's the order of protection and stuff, but could I come by once a week, say on Friday's after I get paid, and bring you some of the money?" 


One For the Road Ch. 05



"Oh. Oh! Really?" She seemed very surprised. "That'd be terrific, Jimmy. Really it would. Whatever you can give would be great. But why don't you go through New York Child Support? You can mail it to them and they'll send me that check." 

"A few reasons. I'd like to give whatever I could afford which will be more than they said I have to give. I don't trust the government at this time, not with everything we've been dealing with. I want...I want to see you, even if it's just for five minutes." 

"Jimmy," she said slowly and sadly. 

I pretended not to notice and continued, "And I want to see my boys. I'm not trying to make a visit out of it, it's just...after seeing them I've come to realize how much I need then in my life. They show me what I've done wrong, and give me hope on what I can reclaim in the future." 

"I don't know. I'd have to check with Ms. Desano if it's ok." 

"I...I understand, Myra. Thanks for considering it." I smiled. "Even if she says no or you don't find out in advance, I'm going to stop by tomorrow after work anyway." 

"Oh, you," she giggled. "Still bucking the trend, huh?" 

"You know me." 

"Yeah, I do," her voice had a sad and wistful sound to it and I felt it was time to end this conversation. 

"Ok, Myra. I'll talk to you tomorrow. Give my love to the J's." 

"I will, James. Good night." She hung up. 

"Good night, babes," I said to the dial tone. "I love you." I put the phone down on the side of my bed and lay back down to stare at the ceiling. Time to grow up, Jimmy. Your wife loves you, man. But even though she loves you, it might not be enough. And whose fault is that? 

I made the thumbs up sign and poked myself in the chest with it. "This guy," I whispered to the night. Yeah, maybe. But I'm still not going to let that weasel Mark sneak on in and take my family. Fuck you, Mark. Just fuck you. Jimmy Skelly is far from out you prick. 

True to my word, Friday after bidding Tom a great weekend and cashing my over $500 check, I drove to my old home and parked on the driveway, secretly thrilled to see that only Myra's Kia was there. I revved the engine and killed the ignition letting the throaty roar of my Charger announce my arrival. The screen door burst open and my two sons came bounding out of the house like red and blond balls of fire. 

I caught them both and spun crazily around the driveway while holding them, the three of us talking a mile a minute and only barely hearing what the other two were saying. I found myself laughing in terrible joy just holding my boys and seeing their frantically happy faces. Joel lunged closer and hugged me so tight around the neck I thought he was going to crush my throat. "I've missed you so so so much, Daddy!" 

"I've missed you too, Joel." I gave him an extra squeeze and then did the same for his brother. "You too, John-boy." 

"Are you going to stay, Dad?" 

"I can't. I'm just here to drop something off for Mommy." 

"Oh." John's face fell. "Well, are you going to stay to see Mark?" 

The vein in the middle of my forehead pulsed wildly as I struggled to keep control. "Nooo, I'm not." Fuck you, Mark. Just fuck you. "Why? Is he coming to visit?" 

My son shrugged. "Sometimes. Fridays he comes over a lot and stays late. Sometime he brings popcorn and we watch movies." 

"Oh, That sounds nice." Eat maggot infested shit and choke on it you tampon chewing assfaggot. "No, I'm not going to be here that long." I was walking up to the front door, a boy in each arm. "But, I plan on stopping by every Friday until the doctors say I can come by ALL the time!" 

"Alright!" they cheered, slithering out of my arms and dashing to the door where Myra was already standing. "Hey, Mom! Guess what? Dad's going to visit EVERY Friday!" 

"Wow!" Myra said, sparing me a single raised eyebrow. "I hope he can! Say, give your dad a last hug and go inside to wash up for dinner." 

They each complied, whispering how much they loved me in my ears, and then went into the house with a final pair of 'goodbyes'. 

"Well," Myra said, "I hope that Ms. Desano is willing to let this happen." 

"She will. I'm not here to cause trouble." I looked around and pulled out a bank envelope from my pants pocket. "Here, Myra. Like I promised." 

"Thanks, James." She went through it and then looked at it again slower. "James, there's over $300 in here!" 

"I know." 

"You don't have to give that much. The courts said $75." 

I shook my head. "Myra, I really fucked things up. The $75 was for when I was making $300. I'm making more than that and I've giving you more than half my take home." 

"Why?" 

"Because the boys deserve it. Because you deserve it. You're my wife..." 

"James," she began, her face falling. 

I interrupted her and went on, "No, it's true even if you don't think so. This is my home and my responsibility. And if I do my job, then you don't need anyone else to come in." My gaze narrowed but I forced my voice to stay calm. "No need to feel beholden to anyone for any reason." 

Myra said nothing, just held the envelope full of $20's. Her eyes were haunted and her shoulders hunched. I wanted so much to lean forward and embrace her in my arms, but that was very much outside the 'good idea' realm. "Listen, I'm going to go. Just think about what I said, Myra. I know things are fucked up, but, well, just think about it." Damn it Jimmy, get off the stick and say goodbye. Time to go. "Later, Myra." 

I got in my baby and drove back to my parents feeling conflicted. There was no doubt I hated to drive away. That was my home. Mine. Yes it was a piece of shit and needed tons of work, but it was my home. Why should I leave? 

I knew the answer to that. I had to leave because I had no choice. Through a long line of stupid assed decisions I had made over time that involved and revolved around my drinking, I had pretty much ruined my chance of just going back home in the near future. And it was really fucking wrong of me to keep pressuring Myra. If I keep asking, then she isn't going to want me there. If I stop asking, she'll seek me out on her own. 

That was my hopes, but we would see how the reality of it all would play out. 

The weeks passed easily and I found myself knee deep in Tom's company as well as my time at AA. I was coming up to my 3 month chip when CPS came through, announcing that I could have supervised visits with my sons every week for 2 hours. We could go to a neutral location the Child Services ran or we could use my parents' house if they were willing to be there during that time. For us it was a no brainer. 

We opted on Saturdays at noon this way I could eat lunch with my boys. Rebecca, my CPS watchdog, came by about fifteen minutes before each scheduled meeting to talk with my parents and me in order to get a status report so to speak. I sat near the front door watching the street like an anxious dog, head twisting around every time I heard a car in the distance. 

Finally at 11:56 I saw Myra's dirty Kia come rolling up to the front of the house, John and Joel bouncing wildly in the back seat. Myra stepped out of the passenger side and opened the back sliding door, letting the two of them out where they burst across the lawn waving their hands and screaming, "Dad!" We fell into each others' arms as we reconnected on the front lawn. I looked up to see Myra talking with my pop briefly before getting back into the minivan and having Mark drive her away. 

Damn it. 

I dropped my wife and that...weaselly opportunistic scumbag from my thoughts and devoted the rest of my time and attention on John and Joel. We ate tuna fish sandwiches (tuna, that I bought and paid for on bread, that I bought and paid for) before going out back to run around the sprinklers for a while. I made believe that Rebecca wasn't here. I pretended that we were at our house and not my parents. I chose to ignore that this was for only 2 hours and not whenever I wanted at will. 

If I didn't do those things it was going to break my heart when the time was up. 

After drying off we just played catch on the lawn and talked about which ice cream flavor we would be willing to try no matter how weird it sounded. Two o'clock came way too fast and I heard the horn honk from out front. With exaggerated slowness John and Joel came over to me for a hug and kiss before having my mom lead them back around front for Myra and...fuckface to take them home. I pretended to be strong for my boys until they disappeared around the corner of the house and then collapsed to the lawn chair and let the tears fall freely. 

Rebecca had the good graces to wait until I pulled myself together to schedule another visit next week and to congratulate me on my successes so far. Thanks, give me a band-aid to cover the rented hole in my guts. 

It was the end of July when Tom got pissed at me for something stupid. I had been laboring at a job we were doing in Woodbury and he needed me to take the trip to the site in East Meadow. So he called the only number he had on file for me and it was my parents'. It wasn't until after 2:30 that he came roaring up to the site in his truck and proceeded to tear me a new ass on not giving him my cell number. 

I was proud of myself for not launching into his red and veiny face, waiting for a moment when he was taking a breath to finally interrupt him. "Tom! I don't have a cell phone." 

"Bullshit, Jimmy." 

"Nope. Not since January I would guess." 

He stared at me with a blank expression before grumbling and getting back into his truck to drive away. I shrugged at Saul who was nailing in the sheathing and went back to restacking the plywood sheets against the side of the house. When we heard screeching tires again fifteen minutes later we were surprised to see Tom Maldeves drive up once more and stalk towards me. 

"Jimmy!" he roared. 

"What?!" I answered, wondering what was up his ass. 

He tossed a bag at me and I reached up, catching it. I opened the top and spilled out a Trac-phone. "Two hundred minutes are on it. You pay for anything else from this point out. I need you, you answer it, capice?" 

"No problem, boss." 

"Good." He cleared his throat. "Now, get your ass to the East Meadow job and clean the site up." 

I gave him a grin, hoisted my phone up to my ear like I had just spoken to him and replied, "Will do, boss. Gotta hang up, I'm getting behind the wheel." 

As for phone calls, the Orders had been modified even more allowing phone calls between Myra the boys and I to take place which allowed me to speak with my sons at any time during the week. So I would read to them over the phone at my parents, making sure John and Joel had the same book I was reading on their lap so they could follow along. I heard about their days in detail and cherished every minute I had with them. 

Myra and I would talk for a few minutes either after or before my time with the J's. Only twice did she bring up the separation and each time I reminded her that there wasn't going to be one. I was proud of the fact that I didn't harp on her about 'us' and instead let my actions speak for me. Each Friday I drove to her house and handed her an envelope full of cash, every Saturday I saw my boys for two hours. And every night like clockwork I went to my AA meetings. 

Father Michael was working with another person at Nassau Community Hospital so I didn't see him nearly as much anymore. We were still friends though and I never failed to give him a call if I was having a rough patch or a tough day. 

It was the end of August when our AA meeting was having a joint gathering with the local Narcotics Anonymous group. It was a potluck gathering and I made a platter of my mom's potato salad to bring. I felt pretty good as I rolled up to the church parking lot that Saturday. My baby still had the scratches and dents but she was well cared for and polished everywhere else. I climbed out of the Charger and shut the door with my hip, feeling my polo shirt swish around my waist. 

That was another change. By not drinking and working for Tom I had slowly shed much of the weight I had packed on during my dark time. I wasn't down to 265 again but I was under 280 and it showed by the definition in my arms, legs, and back. My gut no longer had that 'dunlop' look to it and I was filled with more energy than I had felt in a long time. 

After loading up on a plate of chili and chips, I found myself in a heated conversation with a few guys about the merits of various muscle cars when a familiar voice sounded from behind. "Well shit. As I live and breathe, Jimmy Fucking Skelly." 

I turned around and saw my friend Tim for the first time in almost half a year. "Holy crap! Tim, you son of a bitch!" We both embraced each other, clapping one another on the back repeatedly and with some resounding slaps. "Wow! Tim! Damn man, how are you?!" 

"I'm good!" He replied, the group around us wandering away to let the two of us catch up on our friendship. "I'm in NA. Two months so far." 

"You?" I asked agog. "Wow! That's GREAT! Really! Wow, Tim. Narcotics Anonymous. I had no idea!" 

He shrugged. "My mom was pretty pissed after you almost died in the shower..." 

I held up my hand, "Man, I cannot thank you enough for that." 

He waved it off and continued, "It's alright. Anyway, she was really up my case about it and it took a few weeks for me to get my head around it. I mean my best buddy almost died. In my bathroom. I couldn't believe it. I mean, you're my fucking idol! When everyone else wrote me off, you kept having my back." 

"Tim, dude. It's alright, man. Really." 

"No, you don't get it. I would have done anything for you, man. Whatever you wanted, even if it seemed fucked up, I'd have done it for you. It's pretty screwed up." 

I looked him over with a more critical eye. He was still Tim but he didn't have that whitish pallor he used to have. Also there were no circles under his eyes and he seemed just more comfortable in his own skin. His clothes were less ragged and he just looked more put together. Still Tim, but a faintly better version I guess. "Well, you can't take the blame for it, man. I drank and I was a drunk." 

"I know, man, I know. I've gotten that part of it right. But I was not a good friend to you because I didn't once say, 'whoa man, chill out,' or anything like that." He pulled out a pack of Camels and tapped the box before drawing one free and lighting it. "Anyway, after I sat with the priest a bit and my mom tore me a new one, I came to realize that I didn't want to see my best bud Jimmy ever like that again. Ever. You scared the crap out of me. I won't say you scared me straight but definitely less crooked." 

We both grinned at that. "Well, I'm glad you're doing better, bud." 

"Thanks." He looked around. "Where's Myra? Al-Anon?" 

The good feeling I had faded a bit. "She's not here with any of it, Tim. She filed for a separation." 

"Oh." He had the good grace to look embarrassed. "Shit, buddy. I never would have guessed. Not in a million years." 

"Yeah. It's pretty fucked up." 

"Well," I heard Father Michael speak up from my right, "I suspected you two would run into each other here." 

"Father!" I exclaimed, "Great to see you." I shook his hand and motioned towards Tim with my right shoulder. "I know you said that I had to get myself under control and stuff, but I ran into Tim here purely by accident. I didn't know he was a 'friend'." 

The priest smiled. "It's ok, Jimmy. And thanks for telling me up front." He looked over at Tim and shook his hand as well. "I hear positive things about you Mr. Mallox. Your counselor has let me know of your earnestness - and that counts more than anything else sometimes." 

"Thanks, Father Baldwin," Tim said. "I'm comfortable being a fuck up, as long as I'm an improving fuck up." 

The three of us laughed and then Father Mike resumed his thoughts, fingers digging at his bearded chin. "As for your friendship with Tim, well, for that Jimmy I'll have to ask you: do you think you can still stay on the path and pick up the pieces of you two's former companionship?" 

I had to really think about it. Yes it was true that I was the most fucked up with Tim, but it was during the slippery slope that I had been living on and now; well now, I didn't want to be that person anymore. Ever again. The curse of realizing you're an alcoholic is that you're an alcoholic all the time - even when you're not drinking. I was going to have to be aware of this for the rest of my life. But I wasn't going to live my life in fear. "You know what, Father? I think I can. What I was before, that was the old me. The new me isn't anything like that bastard was. So unless you have a problem, I think some phone calls and a few short visits with my long lost buddy are in acceptable order after today." 

"Ok, Jimmy. I guess you've proven you could walk a bit. Remember though, don't break into a run - just ramp up to a jog. That means no temptation. None. No bars, no pool, no 6-packs. You start, and you know where it'll lead. Only this time'll be harder and will take longer to get yourself back to this place." He turned to Tim. "And that goes the same for you. Just because you are hanging out with James here don't think that it's ok to roll yourself a fatty or pop something to 'make the night even better'." 

Tim looked at Father Mike with a cocked eyebrow. "Roll a fatty?" 

"What? You want me to show my age and say 'smoke a doobie'?" After a friendly smile he put his hand on my shoulder and said, "And on that note, I'll leave you two to yourselves. Talk to you soon, gentlemen." 

Tim and I spent the rest of the picnic bullshitting with one another. At the end of the day we exchanged phone numbers and a promise to give each other a call before the end of the next week. As I drove home, my Charger purring as I made my way down Sunrise Highway, I listened to Father Mike's CD, supposedly it was filled with dozens and dozens of tracks. I used to listen to it in order, but lately I had it on random and would get a few tidbits of wisdom before turning it off to digest what I heard. 

Shortly after Labor Day I had received notification from some billing company the hospital had assigned my account to that I was in debt for $34,824.16. Yeah, can't forget the change, that would just suck. I had informed them by phone as well as by letter that I had no way of paying this debt at this time. Could I send them $1,000/week? Um, no dumb ass, I can't. How about $500? Still no. Well, I'm going to have to settle this debt with them or it is going to negatively affect my credit rating and they might garnishee my wages. 

All I could say to the dumb fuck who called me up for the 23rd time in a row was, "Get in line." 

Who the fuck has $34k just sitting around? Am I supposed to just pull it from my ass? Fucking bullshit, and I'm sure the bill was padded somehow. Like the radiologist used $2,475 worth of x-ray beams on me or whatever he did. The bill might as well been $34 million for all it meant to me. 

My parents were very cool about this whole thing. I was giving Myra and the boys around $300 a week, and was passing my mom another $75, leaving me with just enough for gas, insurance, and to pump minutes on my phone and bologna and cheese into my lunch bag. It wasn't much of an existence, but it was mine and I was getting better and more hopeful every day. Even Rebecca, that CPS twat, was filling me full of hope that this entire mess would be behind me soon. 

I was having almost nightly phone calls with John and Joel now, and even though I wasn't explicitly pumping them for information, I was subtly asking about mom when I could and what she was doing. And it seemed that Mark the weasel fuckface was still around and hung out some nights "after bed time but we know that adults don't have the same bed times as kids do so it's ok for him and mom to be up late." 




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 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. "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?" 

"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."