Unlikely Pathway

Jake couldn’t get the afternoon’s findings out of his head. Sabrina said there was no way those boys getting back together could happen. After a couple of glasses of wine, she was adamant. He didn’t recognize Eddie. All that blond hair and the beard dulled with gray. A neighborhood filled with renewed buddies. And the spectacular conclusion. It seemed unbelievable, and Jake hadn’t been able to sleep since the instant the revelations started to play back.

     He rolled over to listen to Sabrina’s peaceful breathing. Maybe it would help lull him into sleep. She was a beauty, he thought, and they got along, but they hadn’t known each other that long. Her reaction when he told her he’d found the perfect piece of property near the coast of California was she didn’t want to leave Yuma. “I grew up here!” she had screeched.

     The flustered look faded before long, and she said, “Come on honey, you manage a crew of ninety on Kimble’s celery farm. You do all the old dude’s paperwork and drive a company truck. He just gave you a fat raise too… Why leave a great job for something new to start over at almost fifty?”

       They’d talked about Jake’s dream of his own place. How the day’s hours in the heat as he scurried around making sure the work was on track got harder each year. And that Kimble was tiring to talk to once he started drinking in the afternoon. She’d been sympathetic, even supportive, but earlier exchanges had always ended up with him buying something near Yuma.

       “Where in California?” she had asked this time.

      “Middle of the state, near the coast,” he said. “Water restrictions are going to come,” he’d added. “Celery is thirsty, and Kimble doesn’t want to hear about it. It could take a decade, even two, but things will change. When push comes to shove, all that Colorado River water is going to disappear. It just doesn’t make good sense to use precious water to grow celery in the desert.” He knew the time was right. He could use the money he’d saved for the down and put his house on the market to pay off the new loan when it sold.

      She asked for more about the California place, then been unhappy for a while after they talked. Past ‘being in lust’, Jake hoped this might be more than a brief romance. After a while she said, “If you really want to do this Jake, I’m in, but I’ve got to like it too. There’s got to be something for me out there.” He’d promised to get her back to Yuma, if it came to that. It had been two months now since they moved. She was still here.

    Jake still couldn’t sleep after that long-ago night when he first met Ed and Jim filled in his mind. It was one black night in the desert outside Tucson. Still hotter than shit, he and his buddy Hank were crus in’ in Hank’s 57 Chevy – the windows down for air. The girls liked it. Maybe they’d meet some. They only found the usual dreary crowds at all the spots.

      After that, Hank had raced a cowboy with a stock Firebird 400. But that was a downer too. Hank was always fast out-a-the-hole but missed third and the Firebird blew past. They then drove around for a while before Hank remembered a party in the high desert east of town. “Sure,” Jake said before he popped the caps on a couple of brews once they cleared streetlights.

       Hank pulled off the highway north on an old dirt road where people were building. A few dusty miles behind them they spotted a decked-out black Studebaker parked outside a dark house with four guys standing around talk in’.  Hank stopped. Jake had seen some of them around school.  There’d been more brews, so Jake didn’t remember much more about that night, but he connected with Ed and Jim. He got to know Ed better the next spring at a pickup ball game on a dirt lot by his house.

      University High was a big school, he thought. After his last year, everyone went their own way while Jake was accepted to UA to study biology. After graduation he’d checked in with most guys he knew because of Nam. Ed had a job in a lumber yard and said Jim had gone off to school in Iowa. He later heard Ed was drafted and then lost track of both… until this afternoon.

      That was long ago, Jake thought, as he tried to get more comfortable. Buying this orange farm had been a good move, even though his back complained like this many nights. They moved, and Sabrina kinda liked the place, particularly the stream that ran through the property. Lots of evening walks. The old house needed plenty of work, something they both enjoyed. They had already remodeled the huge kitchen. Mercury Mine Road went into Rio Grande. The road needed work, but there were good restaurants and a social club where Sabrina could exercise her bridge addiction.

      Sabrina wasn’t much of a farmer but made up for it with some super meals when motivated. The first month, she found a farm stand down the road. Then asked him to put in a little garden. Soon, she was out with the vegies virtually every day keeping the gophers out of her babies and them weed free. He was getting hopeful she would stay.

      On her bicycle a few times a week she met a guy, Eddie. He also liked to ride and owned the property just down the road. She and Jake enjoyed food but she didn’t get the farm exercise he did. Many a morning he heard, “Off on my fat-free machine for a ride.”

       She’d tried to get Jake to join her. He stayed glued to the farm those early weeks pruning, mowing, planting, irrigating, and the like until this afternoon when Eddie invited them over for some wine. Sabrina said Eddie wanted to get to know his new neighbors. She liked avocados and that was his thing. Jake thought it seemed like a good idea … and it was fun.

      He was enjoying himself and just started in on a second glass when Eddie asked him where he’d gone to school. He mentioned the University of Arizona, and Eddie seemed interested. “Hey man, I grew up in Tucson. What about high school.”

     “Really,” Jake said with a start thinking Eddie looked his age. “University High.”

      “No way, dude. Don’t tell me you were there in ’64.”

     “Yeah, graduated in ’64.”

     “Holy shit, dude. So did I… wait a second,” Eddie had hesitated. “Whoa, man. You’re the Jake who couldn’t hit my curveball, aren’t you.”

      A huge smile soon covered Jake’s face. “Yeah, then you tried to get your fastball by me.”

      Both had sat there, kind of stunned and unsure how to react. This guy Jake got to know three decades ago was a stranger making conversation over some wine, he remembered thinking. For some unknown reason Jake had stood up and Eddie got up too. Jake put his arms out and pulled him into a bear-hug.

      Jake remembered Eddie saying after a few seconds, “This is unreal. I guess that hug makes us buds, again, and I have news for you.” He’d stopped and took a big breath. “You probably remember my best friend, Jim Scully.”

      “About all I remember now is his red hair.” Jake had said.

       “We kept in touch after high school. He and his wife came here for my wedding fifteen years ago. They liked it here so much they sold their gas station in Iowa to move here. You’ve probably seen Scully’s Mobile in town.”

       “I can see why they liked it,” Sabrina had said. Jake remembered she hadn’t then yet caught on with what was coming.

       “Come on, dude, you’re shit in’ me,” Jake had said.

       “Well, it’s more than you and me, man. The Furgeson property across the road from you came up for sale after Jim moved here, and they brought it. Jim’s wife, Maggie, wanted to try a farm stand. Thought people from town would be willing to drive this far for fresh produce. And, maybe some fresh-baked bread. It’s turned into a big deal.”

      “Really!” Sabrina said, her face getting pale. “I’ve stopped at that stand and bought tomatoes and bread… That friendly gal is Maggie, huh.”

       “Wait a second then, Ed,” Jake barged in. “Okay … your property is next to Sabrina and me. And you say Jim lives across from you… so, that would also be across from us. Yeah, it’s a half mile or so, but, Dude, does that mean we all share that fuck in’ corner post just a few hundred yards back toward our place?”

      “That would be correct!” Ed raised his glass. “Now – three decades later – three off-beat weirdos who went to high school in Yuma share a corner post on Mercury Mine Road in California.

      Sabrina stood up looking flustered. Almost dropped her glass. “There’s no way that three dudes who grew up a thousand miles away could accidently end up living next to one another after thirty years. You two made this fuck in’ fairytale up.

      “And, Jake, you’ve probably known all along and are have in’ fun with me.”

     She had that fierce look she could get. Eddie was a little intimidated.

     Jake chuckled. “Don’t you remember, babe,” he had started, “that I was going to plant those lettuce starts you bought yesterday afternoon. Since I hadn’t met Eddie until you got me to come along instead of that, it seems unlikely that we concocted this.” He put his arm around her and gave her a peck on the cheek.

      “Okay,” she said, her face still long. “But how do I get my sister to believe this shit when she calls tonight.”

      “Tell her the truth.”

      It’d been quiet for a moment before Jake took another sip of wine and with a big smile, asked. “So, buddy, if Jim moved here after your wedding, why don’t I see a wife?”

      “Well, that didn’t work out,” was all Jake’s awkward question got for a moment. Then, Eddie added, “The whole story is Lena and the boys live in town. We’re still married, but she didn’t like living out here. Didn’t like me enough, either. I wouldn’t leave the ranch.”

      “Does she still use your name, Wilson?” Sabrina asked.

      “Yeah,” Eddie said.

      “Oh shit! My partner and I play bridge with her on Wednesdays. She’s a good player,” Sabrina said. “Nice looking lady, too. This hocus pocus is get in’ pretty thick, you know.”

     Seconds passed before Eddie asked, “Sabrina, are you going to tell me you’re from Tucson too.”

     “I met Jake in Yuma.”

      “What school? When did you graduate.”

      She paused, then smiled and said, “I’m younger than you are…”

      Jake couldn’t help himself and cracked up. Laughter and bad jokes started to flow.

      They finished a second bottle through constant giggling and a little food before Sabrina and Jake had made their way home. That walk home might have just contained the most memorable moment of his life, he thought. It put the other haunting events in the background as his hand gently reached over to touch Sabrina next to him.

      At the farm gate, Sabrina had said, “It’s just too weird – three dudes end up sharing a corner post after thirty years … Years you were get in’ to be the grower everyone came to for info about soil and water in Yuma. Eddie delivering mail to make ends meet while he planted avos, and let em grow. And Jim pump in’ gas and fix in’ cars in in Des Moines. There’s got ta be some golden vortex over this place.”

     Jake smiled, “A vortex, huh! Some crazy eddy sucking us into this place, at this time.”  He shook his head.

     They walked another couple hundred yards up the farm road before, out of the blue she had turned, kissed him and said, “Yah know, Jake, I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

      On his back Jake tugged his pillow under his head and stared into the dimness of the ceiling. The happiness in her smile warmed him while those words came back. He wondered what Sabrina might have told her sister and his eyes closed.

        Sabrina’s hair swirled wildly. A whirlwind carried them away – up and up into the infinite vastness of a new universe.

 

 

Seventy Sumthin

The two from table six reeled across the parking lot to their truck. Then shared a belly laugh, before they got in and drove off. Two more nameless guys Hank would never see again. He hoped that trophy truck wasn’t going far. He’d served them four rounds. Would have had to say no if they wanted another.

     Only Sal was left at the bar in front of Hank’s purple heart and distinguished service cross. Sal stared lifelessly at his full shot glass. A man that allowed himself just one a week as full of problems as the yet to be sipped glass. Past Sal, Hank’s old Chevy Baja was the only vehicle in the lot under the light where he always parked. With its scratches, dents and a non-working passenger door, it didn’t look like much, but the engine he rebuilt hummed, and he’d probably be able to add another hundred thousand to the clock. It’s looks didn’t matter. No one rode with him, anymore.

     The strapping bartender of forty-five opened the bar’s door to play with the hinge. It called out to him that the table six boys were on their way. He quickly closed the door to shut out the cold Denver night. His empty house would be frosty. Once home, he might build a fire or just throw more covers on the cold bed and climb in.

      He put the cash from six on his tray and went back to picking the place up. It’s not as cold as those fuckin’ Afghanistan mountains, Hank thought. Jimmy next to him in sleeping bags. Two kids, America’s best, doing what they could to keep their country and the world safe. In the brutal cold, one hand on their weapons, they talked night after night about girls back home. Then, dumb shit they’d done in school, or whatever for quiet chuckles, until sleep came.

      Hank glanced at the purple heart above the bar over Sal’s head. New people came into Reggie’s every day. Many service men passing through the airport. Most just wanted to drink and hang for a while. A few had heard about the firefight.

      A look confirmed Sal hadn’t moved. He was anything but common – like Jimmy! Hank’s heart stopped beating. He saw Jimmy running out of the Sarg’s tent for the thousandth time, trying to take hard breaths and laugh at the same time. Hank took a lungful. God, I loved him, he thought. Tried to walk it off and wiped his eyes. Then sat in a chair near the doork, Sal still lifeless.

      That night. Taliban in the camp. Jimmy woke him. The firefight automatic. Just the two, back-to-back, contending with eight, maybe more. No time for fear. Afterwards they said it was less than a minute before more guys showed. Ammunition was almost gone. They counted Taliban bodies. Looked like they got them all. The new men went out to reestablish a perimeter. They’d turned to stare at the marked armored car – their protection. Bullets littered the ground. Only then did Hank feel the pain. Blood was dripping from his left hand.

      Jimmy unsheathed his knife. Opened up Hank’s uniform above the elbow to reveal the bleed in his bicep. With a perimeter reestablished, he and Jimmy cautiously stood then turned to walk back to the CSH to get his wound treated. The shots rang out. That loud pop-pop of an AK-47. From where, Hank couldn’t tell. Jimmy’s knees buckled and his soul mate slumped into the gravel. A fatal wound. Hank couldn’t see for seconds, Jimmy’s blood splattered over his face. If Jimmy hadn’t been there, a round might have found him. Metals, family, friends and psychologists, even time, made no difference – the cruel lesion would never go away. 

     He turned his head and wiped his eyes on a sleeve, filled his lungs, then took a second to clear his head and picked up the tray to buss tables. Why did he have to go through this every night? he wondered. Sal hadn’t moved or seemed to notice. Hank’s steps were slow as he walked back to the bar. Leaded boots, heavy with grief, that he couldn’t take off. He wished Jill stayed home. Someone to talk to.

     Sal was looking at him. “People!” he howled, out of the blue. “Every one of ‘em sumthin’ else.”

     Hank turned his head away thinking, the last thing I need now is a bunch of whining, Sal.

     Sal’s twisted mouth, almost a snarl, demanded attention, and repulsed Hank. He had predictably strolled in less than half an hour before closing to take his usual spot. Every Thursday night was the same!

       His slow, rolling gait in neatly pressed slacks two-sizes too large littered the tranquil night-time bar. Hank looked up at the ceiling fans noiselessly moving air in the tall room. Sal’s close-cropped grey stubble and pallid complexion made his head a lousy fit on a body trying to wear shiny blue polyester trousers with a too large, muted shirt out of the 90’s. With this display, their Thursday nights started pretty much the same each week. Yet, somehow, sitting and talking with this man his father’s age had become a steady part of his week. Conversations about things he’d seen or read sometimes turned interesting.

     Hank set the tray on the bar. The bourbon he poured when Sal sat down still looked untouched. Yeah, their chats could be a distraction. Anyway, Hank was rarely in a hurry to get back to an empty house. “How long have you been coming in here,” he asked.

     Half-conscious Sal’s sour countenance slowly broke. “How many years?... I don’ know. Long afore I was an old fart with bad habits…. I must a first come in after I lost that job at Hudson’s.”

     Hank reached to pick up the tray. First, he said, “Come on Sal, you can tell me how old you are.”

     Sal’s eyes narrowed. “Well… seventy-sumthin.”

     Hank thought he might be looking at the ornery Sal. He hadn’t seen that one for a while. After a sip and a few seconds, Sal said, “The downturn in ’09, yah know; would’ve just turned sixty. So, a dozen years, or so. Tough time. Liv ‘in lean.”

     “Thanks,” Hank said, and he grabbed a screwdriver from under the bar.

     Two years ago, when Hank started, it was hard not to notice Sal. He usually opened like this, weird, then calmed down, and they could have a conversation. Hank still felt funny that they’d connected. Coming in just before closing bugged him for a while. Hank would ask him to finish up and leave after closing time at first. Then, Jill left. There was nothing to go home to except staggers. At least my dog doesn’t mind me talking about this torment, he thought.

     “The first word I heard out of you last week was people, too. What’s that all about?” Hank asked from across the room as he screwed on the new hinge.

     Sal stopped staring at his drink to look over, “Little things… A neighbor tonight. Probably got ten years on me, Ol’ Bat.”

     “What did she do to bug you?” Hank asked.

     “Nut in’…. just a harrumph and scowled. As soon as I opened mine, she shuffled back in her unit and slammed the door.”    

     After Sal took another sip, Hank heard, “Can’t get her out of my head, Ol’ Bat… I’ll admit be ‘in a creature of habit. She’s used to me go ‘in and cum ‘in.” Sal looked up at the medals hanging over the bar. His head rocked back and forth, before the punchline. “When you boil it down, everythin’s pretty much about people, and I’m one.”

     “I see.” Hank thought Sal might have said more. He let it go, not really understanding. Many times, he had felt there was a lot more going on in Sal’s head. Substance hidden under that drawl and habits.

     “But last week’s story was about your one drink limit. You lost your job, because you drank, I thought. You said it took years to quit the drinking.”

     “Shit, Hank! Mom, Dad … brother, Wayne. They’re all dead because of the drink. What do you want from me? I’m still here.” 

    “Hey, Sal. I’m not after anything. It was your story.”

     Sal cradled his head in his arms on the bar, then looked up again. The glare’s intensity was penetrating. He was after something.

     “I was o, okay in school,” he started, again. The glare subsided. A candid dignity then flourished. “So much for a kid to thi, think on. Busy, busy. Beer, beers with the boys was all. Not much o’ that… a nerd, he said, with a halting voice … most kids didn’ take to me.”

     Then, he proclaimed, “A loneliness filled those school years. It was like being lost in my search for something real. Something that made sense.” Intensity had returned to his look.

    Humm… he was a smart kid. I’ll bet he was in that awkward kid crowd. Smart kids like Jimmy who didn’t care about fitting into some social standard. 

       Hank’s mind went back to how he got to know Jimmy. He’d paid attention in school. Not a jock, they hooked up after that lowlife, whatever his name, punched Jimmy. Then Hank watched as Jimmy got up and defiantly stood there. The big kid punched him again.

      I straightened him out, Hank thought, but he never much cared for the handle of tough guy. Some kids thought being tough was cool.

    “Then, there was, Maggie.” Sal’s voice flared, his narrow eyes brought Hank back.

    The memorial from school and Jimmy gone, Hank asked, “Tell me about her.”

     “Lights out. People talk about fall ‘in in love. I had no clue. Every time I saw her, a gaping hole opened in my stomach. No questions. Seeing her induced catatonia. I mean most guys were just tryin’ to get some … lust, you know. I was way, way past want ‘in some. The whole package – I suddenly felt like a man. Even fought with some asshole who made fun of what I was wear in to impress her.”

     Sal’s voice was strong. This was pretty much how Hank would depict the spell Jill put on him. “And you weren’t drinking then.”

     “Not much.” Sal picked up his glass. “Never touched nut ‘in like this.” He took a good sip, then held his glass up. Hank saw Sal’s eyes light up as the whiskey warmed his throat. “The color is mesmerizing,” he said. “The flavor like the sweetest kiss I evea had, and it lights up your insides as it goes down.”

      A break ended in a short-lived smile.

      “We were happy. Joked around. Then have some fast food. Go see a movie, and just walk, for hours in the dark talkin’ about nut in’. A couple of years we was just crusin’.

      “Then, the kids.”

       A resounding sadness in his stooped body accompanied Sal’s words.

       “Things changed. Time vanished, Sal went on. That was when I started cookin’ dinner once I got home most nights. Maggie did ‘in mind. I watched it happen – Jess and Erin grew to be her life. I did ‘in mind. No one keepin’ track of the booze. Not so much at first. Just some wine.”

     Sal shuffled around on the bar stool, no longer looking at Hank, then fiddled, pushing a few things around the bar. Hank could see where this was going. What might happen next made him anxious.

     “They liked me at work. From the start. Promoted an, promoted. Jobs harder an, harder. The routine broke when Jess was goin’ on ten. The firm asked me to go to a plant that was in a bad way down south. Maggie wouldn’t go. I begged. The plant manager didn’t want me there. Employees steered clear. Bags of twelve-hour days doin’ everythin’ myself for the bet ‘a part of a year. The drink put me to bed every night. Lost 20 lbs. and started in on whiskey. Each mornin’ I blamed it on loneliness.”

     Sal was quiet for a second, then looked Hank’s way. “Back in LA, kids got older. Maggie and me argued. About the booze. About everythin’ else too. I was miz ‘able all the time. Serious gloom. Slept on the couch a lota nights but kept days dry.”

     “Woah, Sal! You didn’t tell me any of this last week.”

     “Sumthin about tonight. Wouldn’t come afore.”

     “So, did you finally drink yourself out of that job too?”

     “Nah. Business got bought. I had choices, but Maggie didn’t wanna leave family, an friends, an the kids school. The booze was get in’ way over the top. Tried to quit. Each time cheated the first night.  Go ‘in through a night without those calming drinks that made everythin go away for a while proved impossible. Then, I started grabin’ a half pint at a drive through on the way home. Finished it on the road. Knew Maggie would be pissed when I got there. She always was.”

     Sal put his head down again. Words came out muffled. “One night, both kids off in college, Maggie locked me out of the bedroom. Not a peep. Changed locks the next day. I took an apartment. Judge took mosta my pay.

      “It took years – years wondering why the flurry and passion of our youth corrupted into a stale dark obscenity – before the new firm finally closed the LA site. Mov ‘in everythin to Atlanta. Years that I fought the pain…. in LA to work for Hudson’s.”  

     Sal was staring at what was left of the drink. He might be done, Hank thought. The language Sal used was no longer that good-ol-boy stuff. Was pretense lost in the story’s hardship?

     So many hard questions, Hank thought. But Sal was running this show. That hint of grit on Sal’s face was the same thing said by Jimmy’s so many times when the going got tough. Hank never interrupted when Jimmy got going.

     Sal hardly mentioned his kids. Sounded like he was an absentee dad? He’d detailed so little.

     Finally, Hank got a safe question out. “What happened here in Denver at Hudson’s?”

     Eyes locked, Sal’s now red and sad. “Not much of a job, for sure. Christ! A dozen years ago. Sit ‘in on my ass all day in this wordless room full of people, mostly former employees like me, fillin’ in spreadsheet boxes. No gossip. Not even a sniffle. Just that soft tap-tap-tap all day. And despair!

      No one talked because yah got paid for the number completed.” Sal’s eyes, still locked on his, were now glassy. Then a single tear trickled down one cheek. He didn’t hide it. “But that’s just more shit,’ he said. “The overriding thing is, he took a huge breath, I lost Maggie owin’ to the drink!”

     This last sentence roared. He sucked in another big breath and picked up his whiskey. “Yeah, I complained. Still do. It was years afore I got honest with myself. She was a damn fine woman! I was a better man with her. But I was a shit and drove her away. Losing her … a massive screwup. Unforgivable.”

     Sal stood. “Who fuckin’ believes in angels?” he barked.

     His cheeks a deep red, he trembled. Hank didn’t really get the angels bit and Sal looked like he might pass out. He was so mad.

      “Excuses!” his rage continued. “The battles. The drink was the only important thin in my life.” Sal slammed a fist into the bar.

    “Careful, man!” Hank said through a thin smile. “That’s genuine mahogany.”

     Hank’s attempt to calm him fell flat as Sal looked at him through wells of tears and rubbed his hand.

     Then, only then, did Hank fully understand. Sal was talking to himself. He was just a vehicle to get an avoided conversation out.

    ‘Sal turned away to stare into the blackness of a front window. He was still trembling.

     After a while Sal said peacefully, “Long ago, it was.” He wiped tears on a napkin and stuffed it in a pocket before swiveling the stool back to face Hank. “Years without Maggie added up.

      “It was a winter day. Rain had turned to snow. Cold poured in through the only window of the one room dump I live in. I watched cars go by below for a while, put on a jacket, then pulled the curtain closed,” More is coming, Hank thought. “I turned on the TV for some noise. Sat in the dark. All I could think about was how hopeless everything was and if I should go on. I considered how to end things for hours, paralyzing canned laughter and commercials in the background. I turned off the fuckin noise for some peace.

      “My eyes adjusted to piddling light from u around the curtain as misery went on. Remaining beams made spider webs twinkled. Eventually my view shifted to the picture next to my bed. Kids on each side of her were lost as shards of beams glistened off Maggie’s features. Flickering light played games with her image. Different attributes luminous, she moved and stared. The picture’s smile was soon a grotesque leer. She mocked me. Again, I wondered why I should go on. The image darkened. Then she whispered. “I was unselfish and self-sacrificing while dealing with hurt, frustration, and fear. I begged you. Gave up my friends. Put up with you – for years! So your children would have a father. Watched you pass out in your chair every night…. I even lied for you.

      “When I started wishing you would die, I quit.”

      “Alone in the dark I waited for more. A long time. Anything to dull the agony,” Sal said. “There was no option. I walked into the kitchen and pulled a knife out of a drawer, put it to my wrist and tugged.”

     “Oh shit, Sal. What happened…. You’re still here.”

     Sal looked away before calmly and quietly saying, “It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters till you find someone to talk to.”

     Hank didn’t say a thing. 

     “I think about her every day!” Sal said, his voice growing loud. His mug was bright red again. “You want evidence! The result of driving her away. Look at me!” his voice flared, and he held out his arms. “Wasted away. Needed the last dozen years be in’ sober to see things for what they are.” There was the scar on his left wrist.

      Sal turned his barstool away again.

     More seconds passed after his tortured words before Hank glumly said, “I think I understand.”

     Only the scrawny man’s back visible, he’d thought Sal’s drained look resulted from no exercise and lousy food with no one looking after him. Assumptions…. With more time a glance at the clock over the bar said 2:09. Hank picked up the tray to finish bussing tables. Tonight, he might stay a while.

      Tables cleared, he opened the door and adjusted the upper hinge – cold mattered little – until the door closed smoothly. Screwdriver back on the tray, he turned the open sign over.

    Across the room, Sal rustled then smiled. “I’ve been look in’ at these decorations of yours for months now,” he said. “Since you started. That distinguished service cross is sumthin, yah know.”

     Hank nodded, happy that Sal might have got past his funk.

     “Never felt I should ask. Sumthin happened though, if you ever wanna talk about it.”

     Hank glanced at the awards. Felt a twinge above his left elbow. Remembered the tears flowed as he tried to stand tall thinking Jimmy should be there when they pinned on the Medal of Valor. They were brothers. Jimmy spotted the Taliban. He probably wouldn’t be here if not for him.

      Sal’s eyes glued to him, just like the General’s at the award ceremony. Kindness in Sal’s voice and the question were a big step up on anything so far. It took a while before Hank swallowed and said, “Don’t think I want to go there right now, Sal, thank you.”

     Sal nodded. Soon he again was a corpse staring at his drink.

     Hank added a few things from the bar to his tray.

     Wiping down tables, Hank caught Sal rotate his barstool. “Thursday nights…” Hank heard, “they’re important. I have someone I can talk to.”         

     A simple statement. Nothing more. “Well, you’re the only one left. I can yak while I clean up,” Hank said and wished he hadn’t. Tonight was a big step up. Those words thoughtless, he wondered what he would say to Jimmy?

.      In a mode though, he walked over and picked up the tray of glasses. “Besides, you’re still here,” Hank heard as the tray pushed open the kitchen door. He felt Sal’s eyes follow him as he walked through the door.

**

     Everything put away in the kitchen and the dishwasher going, Hank walked back to find Sal. The impact of Sal’s words minutes before were never left him. “I didn’t drive you away.”

     Sal raised his glass and emptied it. “Time to walk home, I reckon,” he said.

     A scowl came over Hank. “Sorry, Sal. I’ve been a wise ass. I’m carrying around a load since Afghanistan. I lost a good friend. It still hurts.”

      “Do you want to talk about it?”

      “I don’t think I’m there yet,” Hank said, not wanting to get shaky again. “Maybe we can find something else and yak on for a while. Can you buy a second drink?”

     Sal stared past him for a second before his face brightened. “Okay. I’ll nurse it.”

     Hank’s muscular arm reached up to the top shelf for the Mitchner’s Bourbon. He grabbed a clean glass, but Sal pushed over his empty one.

     “Why do you come to Reggie’s, every week? You said it’s a walk. There’s lots of bars in town,” Hank asked and poured a nice drink.

     “When I got real, this was the only place that served Mitchner’s. I figure that if I’m gonna have one drink a week, it should be a good one.” Sal said. Staring at a full glass, he licked his lips.

     Sal’s use of the word real got Hank thinking again about one drink. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. “You can do Knob Creek anywhere.”

     “Pap didn’t drink Knob Creek.”

     He needed to think through what was in his head. Hank walked around the bar, made sure the front door was locked, and turned-out lights except the one over the bar they left on at night.  Needing a respite, he asked, “So, what’s on your mind tonight?”

     “Oh, I don’ know,” Sal said. He stared at Hank for a minute before saying, “Somethin else personal is bugin me. You’ll think I’m wacko.”

    “How’s that?”

     After reticent seconds, he shouted, “Dreams!” His face looked humiliated.

     His pitch alerted Hank there was more than just dreams. “Well, everyone dreams, Sal. What’s special about yours?”

     “I don’ even know how to talk about it. I know a lot. I can find Togo on a map or tell you how atoms fit together to make DNA. But I don’ know where to start on dreams.”

     “DNA? Now you’re talking chemistry?”

     “You bet. I’ve never let on, but I once was a damn good chemist. That plant with problems. That one I spent so much time at… I was trying to adjust the process chemistry to avoid explosions.”

     “Don’t know If there’s time to learn chemistry tonight,” Hank smiled. “But let’s try. How about starting at the beginning.”

     ”It’s my momma. The same dream over and over again. It’s always so real.”

     “Okay … now, I’m interested. Tell me what you remember about your mom.”

      Sal looked down at that new drink and took a sip, “Beautiful…. my momma. An eye-catcher. I don’ remember that, just pictures. Pap talked about men starin’ at her all the time.”

      “Maybe I am wacko. Maybe we should talk about somethin else,” Sal said with a dry smile.

     Hank gave him a funny look. “Let’s stick with this one.

     “Do the best you can, buddy.”

     Sal hesitated and took a sip.

     Then Sal spit it out, “Mom died,” he uttered. Whiskey momentarily forgotten, his eyes drooped. “I don’ member a funeral or anythin’ really. Mostly what Pa told me later. Cancer!

     “It comes back the same each time.. I wake up…. She’s crawlin in my bed and hugging me tight. Her body’s on fire. Bein’ so close makes me feel funny….  Not a baby, anymore. She doesn’t let me go. Cuddles me. So tight I can’t move. Then, like she goes to sleep. But she isn’t there when I wake up in the mornin.”

       Sal’s gaze raised to meet Hanks eyes. The distance between them shortened…. “Did you recall it after your mother died, or just in dreams?” Hank asked.

      “I blanked out for a long time, I think … after she died. Dreams were all over the place.”

       “What happened after that, then?”

       “I don’ remember nutthin, really until the day I started the 3rd grade. It musta been months after mom died. That day was scary. A new school. New kids. This big kid told me to kiss his ass, then punched my stomach.”

      Hank’s eyes closed, and he shook his head slowly.

     “But I fixed him. Lunch came up all over him.”

      After a fragile smile Sal said, “Maggie… Truth told, I still dream mostly about Maggie. The walks we took, yacking away. Her smiles covering that beautiful face. She is a beauty like momma. When I wake up by myself in the morning the first thin’ I think is, you blew it! You drove her away, idiot. You’ll never see her again. I don’ even know where she or the kids are.” Sal buried his face in his hands and sobbed. After a while he looked up. Tears streamed down his face.

      Unanticipated emotional consequences of Sal’s account from the past hit Hank hard. The honesty! Jimmy’s face was now across the bar smiling at him. It took seconds before Hank said, “I’m sorry Sal. You must have loved her very much.”  He took a hard breath in a battle not to break down.

      “I did. The hurt never stops,” Sal said.

      Years had gone by. Torment remained. Everything Sal said reminded Hank. Jimmy should have walked away. The area had been cleared. Except for that Taliban with a death oath. Instead, someone he loved died. The same thoughts raced through Hank’s mind for the millionth time. Jimmy’s essence just dismissed. Because of that war, a war that they became brothers in, and Jimmy gave his all for. Now most people don’t remember it. Just another notch in history’s body count.

      Sal’s eyes were steady on him. Hank said. “I guess there is something I want to talk about.”

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