One For the Road Ch. 01

As I drove down the block I could see a number of kids from the neighborhood were playing on our driveway, scooters and big wheels all over the place, looking for all the world like a child's car show and swap meet. I pulled up along the curb instead and parked myself there. As I got out of my baby I heard, "Hey, Dad!" and turned to see my two boys racing up to me.

"Johnny-boy!" I cried as I caught my first son, his red haired form jumping at the last moment to my outstretched hands. I slung him over my shoulder and held him in place with one steadying hand while I reached down to grab my other son who was right behind. "Joel!" I cheered as I wrapped one arm around his midsection and twirled him gently through the air, still holding his older brother on my back.

I stomped across the lawn, scattering leaves and weeds in my wake, while the other neighborhood kids were calling out greetings as well. John and Joel were laughing as I swayed back and forth, pretending to stumble and fall, until I was surrounded by their friends. "Alright, alright," I let them down amidst giggling laughter, ruffling both of their heads. "Let me go in and say hi to mom." I shook a finger at the pack of them. "Be good!"

"We will Mr. Skelly!"

I walked into the house and dropped my keys on the counter, "Myra?" I called out.

"Out here!" she replied from the back of the house.

I went through the back door and she was pulling down a load of laundry from the clothes line. "Hey, babes," I said, sidling up and giving her a hug and a peck on her lips. She returned it swiftly and then went back to taking the towels and shirts down. "Nice fall day for doing this?" I asked innocently.

"Yeah, James." She said, pushing a stray hair back behind her ear. "Just what I wanted to do. Take five times as long to do a load of wash."

Ah fuck, not this shit. Not now. "I said I'll get to the dryer. It needs a belt and I can't fix it until this weekend."

"I know, James. I know. Never enough time." She pulled the socks off the line next. "Three months, honey. I could have called a guy to come and fix it."

"Not a chance. I can fix it myself."

"I know, James. But just cause you can, doesn't mean it happens."

Fuck me, she's not giving me a chance tonight. I counted slowly to five, letting my ire fade. "Listen, I called your mom up. We've been having a rough patch and I want to take you out for dinner tonight. Stephanie'll watch the boys and you and I can have a nice night. Sound good?"

"Tonight?" She looked at me with a less than pleasant expression. "Damn it, James. I can't tonight. Remember I'm on the Mon day/Thursday/Friday schedule at work."

I scratched my head. "Really? When did that change."

"Jesus, James!" she flung the blouse she was folding down into the basket and looked up at me. "Since July! Are you kidding me?"

"Fuck, Myra. I'm trying to make an effort here. Every day, what the fuck is with you?"

"James, please. Not now." She hastily raced across the rest of the line, no longer folding the laundry, just throwing it into the basket. "Look, I've got to work. We need what money I have coming in too."

"Don't you want to go to Bracco's?"

"Another time, James. We really can't afford it and I'd rather spend the money on fixing some of the broken stuff around here." She lifted the basket to bring it into the house and I reached over, taking it from her. For a moment she resisted and then let it go with an exasperated sigh. "I have to get ready for work," she said, striding past me and entering the back door.

I followed. "Can't you bang in for today? I mean, let's face it, it's Stop and Shop. It's not like you're piloting a damned plane. They can get another cashier."

"James, it doesn't work that way. I had to fight to get the shift I have. 6 to 10:30 is all we can swing since we have two boys not in school yet. My mom works, your parents work, we sure as hell can't afford daycare. And the supermarket isn't happy at my limited availability so they don't give me a lot of hours." She rooted through her drawers and dug out one of her yellow polo shirts for work, stripping her existing one off and over her head. I was still holding the laundry basket while staring at my wife standing in front of her dresser in a pair of jeans and her bra. Her tits looked great, even clad in the fraying bra she was wearing; her cleavage pressed outward and calling to me.

As I was finding myself beginning to move forward, the siren's call of her almost bare breasts beckoning to me, she slipped her shirt on and pulled it down, continuing her comments. "So until something changes here, I can't risk getting them pissed off at me by calling in sick to go to dinner. Any evening I miss work takes $50 from our budget. A night at Bracco's is going to cost at least that much. That's why we're not going."

"Damn, Myra. I don't know what to do anymore."

"Did you talk to Doug about getting into the selling floor? Maybe getting a little commission that way?"

I looked at her. "No. I'm not a salesman, you know that. I actually want to get on someone's crew, a decent carpenter's helper can make over $20 and hour."

"Honey, you aren't a carpenter."

"No, but I'm around all this shit all day. Been in that building supply yard for four years now."

She pursed her lips. "Did you ask anyone? Did anyone offer you an opportunity?"

"Not yet..."

She threw her hands up, "Then why are you pining your hopes on that then?" She took a deep calming breath and let it out. "James, I love you very much. But we have some real problems around here, and we have to take care of them here. Let's do something easy. The door to the boys' room still isn't hanging right on the bottom hinge. You bought one five weeks ago, it's still on top of the fridge. Can you replace the hinge tonight while I'm at work? I'd do it myself, but I'm just strong enough to work the screwdriver."

I nodded. "Ok, babes. I can do that." I leaned in to give her a kiss but she turned her head at the last moment and I caught the corner of her mouth. Feeling hurt I pulled back and stuffed my hands into my pockets. "I can do it. You'll see. Things'll be great."

She looked at me, eyes softening but her lips set in a firm line. "I hope so, James. I need you here helping out. It's kind of falling apart." She did relent and give me a short hug and then stepped out of the room, hair flailing behind her and she wiped her eyes. She came to the front door and called out, "John! Joel! Mommy's going to work! Give me a kiss goodbye."

"Mommy!!" my boys cheered, and I was able to glimpse them as they grabbed her tight around the neck, hugging her and planting kisses on each of her cheeks. She smiled and laughed, pushing her way slowly to her feet while the two of them fell away to either side. "We love you!" they shouted as she climbed in her mini-van and pulled away, waving goodbye merrily.

"Alright, boys!" I called out as she drove out of sight. "Let's clean this mess up and get inside for dinner." I waved to the other kids who were filing away, collecting their scooters and other ride on toys. As John and Joel filed past me I gave them each a playful smack on the butt and good naturedly told them to wash their hands and faces, "and use soap this time!"

"Yes, Dad!" was their answering call as I went into the kitchen and pulled out a couple cans of soup. I opened them up and filled the pot, running the cans under water until they were filled and then adding it to the concentrated mix. I dropped some bread into the toaster and pulled out a Bud Light, drinking it absently as I stirred the soup heating up. From the amount of laughing I was hearing it was obvious they were playing more than washing. "Hey," I called out, "do I need to come in there?"

"No!" "We're almost done!" "John splashed me!" "No I didn't, and besides, you splashed me first!"

I chuckled, tossing my empty into the return can and turned the stove off as soon as dinner started to boil. I ladled three bowlfuls and placed them on the table. "Let's go! Eat!" I called out, flipped the toast onto a plate and laying it out as well. I took out two juice boxes and a Bud Light from the fridge and sat down with my boys to eat dinner. We ate well, and they actually helped a bit by plopping their dishes in the sink before heading out to the backyard to play.

I left the back door open so I could hear them in case there was a problem and then took out a screwdriver from my toolbox, making my way to the boys' bedroom door. The bottom hinge had been knocked free from the door itself when Joel had tried to slam the door closed with a Fisher Price people jammed between the hinge plates. It had bent the brass badly and popped two of the four screws free, making it almost impossible to shut the door completely anymore.

I tackled the screws on the door first, the remaining two coming out without a problem. The ones on the door frame were another issue. The heads were choked with five or so layers of paint and I couldn't get enough of a grip with the screwdriver to get them to turn. One of them came free and I couldn't make heads or tails of the other three. "Fucking shit," I cursed as I got to my feet and went back to my toolbox to find something I could pick the paint free with.

Knock. Knock.

"Who the hell?" I muttered, making my way to the front door. "Yes?" I called out until I noticed my mother in law standing there. "Stephanie! What are you doing here?"

She was in her early 50's and was in pretty good shape for a lady her age. Myra's dad had died from cancer in his late 40's, leaving her mom alone. She wore her hair shorter than Myra did, and from the evenness of its tone, it was obvious to me she colored it. Normally she was pretty open and happy, especially around the boys, but right now she looked uncannily like Myra with her scowling face and narrowed eyes. "You don't look like you're going to dinner. And where's my daughter?"

"Shit," I cursed, opening the door and letting her in. "Sorry, Steph. We had to cancel. Myra's working."

"Oh, Jimmy," she sighed, putting her handbag on the counter and taking her coat off. "I'm here, I'll play with my grandkids for a bit. Is that ok?"

"Sure, Steph. That'll be fine." I walked to the fridge, taking out another beer. "You want one?" I asked, holding it towards her.

"No. I'll take a glass of coke, if you've got it."

"Coming right up." I got her her soda and put a few ice cubes in it from the tray. "Here you go, Steph." I took a long slug of my beer and smiled at her.

"You ok, Jimmy? You look like someone hit you?"

"Me? Nah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." I finished my beer as she took another sip of her soda and then tossed it to the pail. "Swish," I said as it went it. "Listen, the boys are out back playing, I'm working on the door," I said proudly, puffing my chest out and twirling the screwdriver.

She put her soda down and gave a thin smile my direction. "Hey, Jimmy. You should slow down on the beers."

"I'm good, Steph. Promised Myra I'd watch it."

She gave me a deep look that bothered me as I withered under it. Eventually she nodded and went out back to the calls of, "Grandma!" leaving me in the kitchen alone.

"You should slow down on the beers, Jimmy," I mimed, lilting my voice and affecting a sour lemon sucking face. "Fuck me, Steph. I guess Myra's been dumping in your ear too." I went back to the door with a thin pick and proceeded to chisel out the paint filled screw holes. It wasn't easy work and I ended up stripping the heads off two of the three screws drilled into the frame. It was another twenty minutes of grunting, sweating, and swearing before the last of the brass screws finally came free and the door was hanging on only the other two.

"That's the way, Jimmy," I muttered, opening the plastic bag with the new hinge and sliding it in place. "Oh, fuck no." The old hinge was a bit smaller than the new one, so it didn't sit perfectly in the former space. "Now what the fuck?"

I went to grab another beer to help me think but changed my mind when I glanced in the pail. "Shit, Jimmy, five?" Did I drink five beers already today? Were any from this morning. I wasn't sure and I know that five down and it wasn't even seven at night yet was not what Myra meant by keeping my drinking under wraps. "Fuck, I don't need it," I said with finality, shutting the door and turning back to the bedroom door.

Picking up my phone I scanned down until I found Jerry's number and called him. T-Mobile was letting me know the call was connecting and eventually I heard my buddy answer. "Hey, Jimmy Skelly! How are you, bud?"

"Jerry Zavers! I am fucking terrific, thanks for asking!"

Jerry was a long time friend of mine and we had been through a lot of crazy shit in our youth. He got married to a nice girl named Grace a few years back and now had a little girl, Lisa that was filling his free time. We shot the shit for a minute or two until I was able to get around why I gave him a call. "Yo, Jerry, I'm trying to hang a new hinge on my kid's door and the mortis isn't lining up. You got a router I can borrow?"

"Sure, man. Not a problem. Want to run over and grab it?"

I looked at the clock and saw it was approaching 7:30. "Nah, I'll come by tomorrow and grab it. This'll hold for now."

"Terrific! If I'm not home, just have Grace open the garage for you."

"Thanks bud, you're the best!"

"No, Jimmy, you're the man."

We hung up laughing and I felt pretty good about myself. I wandered out to the back yard and watched Steph as she tossed the ball back and forth between John and Joel. "Alright, boys," I called out. "Bath time and then bed time!"

"Aww, Dad! Do we have to?"

"You heard him," my mother in law volunteered, herding the two of them into the house. "Chop, chop. Get to the tub but give Grandma a kiss before I leave." The two of them gave Steph the same treatment they had given their mother a few hours earlier before letting go and racing to the bathroom.

"I'm sorry I didn't call to cancel, I hope you're not pissed."

She shook her head, picking up her pocketbook. "No, this was fun. I'm sorry the two of you didn't get a chance to go out, but maybe it was for the best." She looked past me down the hall. "Did you finish the door?"

"Mostly. I've got to get a tool from a buddy tomorrow."

"That's nice, Jimmy." She let me walk her to the door and then turned to face me. "I love my grandkids, Jimmy. There's nothing more important to me."

"I know, Steph," I replied puzzled.

"They need a stable home, Jimmy. If you and Myra are having a problem, you have to listen to what it is and fix it. Kids can tell when things aren't well."

"Sheesh, Steph. We're fine. It's fine. Really, it's fine. I'm taking care of it."

She made a womanly grunt. "We'll see, Jimmy." She traced her fingers on my forearm and clasped my wrist briefly. "Take care, and tell Myra I'll call her tomorrow."

I watched her get into her car and drive away. I could hear the bathtub running and the boys splashing inside, the hollow thuds sounding as their knees and heels resounded off the walls and floor of the tub. I grabbed my keys and brought my car onto the driveway, out of the street. Locking it I went inside and was deep in thought as I watched my sons getting themselves clean - or at least wet.

We horsed around for a bit and then I made them each get out and dry off. From there it was time for bed and I read them a bit of Goldilocks and the Three Bears. We all laughed at the silly voices I gave the bears and then it was a fast kiss goodnight and I left them to fall asleep.

I walked the house, feeling a bit lonely. Each room seemed empty to me, quiet and alone. The kitchen had one bulb out on the lamp fixture and the two remaining ones were a cool white and a daylight white light, giving the room a strange headache inducing glare. I looked in the cabinet and found a cool white 40 watt bulb which I screwed in place. The room looked marginally better. The TV room was dark. The bathroom was silent. The bedroom was lonely.

This wasn't how I wanted to reconnect with Myra. Maybe she was more right than I liked to admit. We have been having a real rough go of it lately and it didn't seem to be getting better. Between my dead end job as a forklift driver and her cashiering at the supermarket, we barely had a pot to piss in. And things were always piling up, new bills took the place of old ones and old bills kept going up.

I wandered back into the kitchen and looked around the cabinets, taking out a pack of the kids' fig newtons. I cracked it open and ate one, washing it down with a swallow of my beer.

My beer.

I frowned, when did I get another beer? Was it when Stephanie left? Nah, I don't think so. How about before I went to help my boys in the tub? No...Not too sure. Maybe? I took another sip, my eyes lifting to settle on the wall clock.

9:43.

When the fuck did it become that late? I looked down at the table, noticing that more than half the pack of cookies was gone and I really had to concentrate to remember that I ate that many. Even then, I didn't really remember actually eating them, only the evidence that they were gone lent credence to the fact that I did actually eat them.

Shit, Jimmy. What the fuck is going on? This wasn't the only time I seemed to have been spacing out lately. Not going comatose, but just not really noticing what was going on around my life. I felt chills run down my spine, like a specter wandered past my house or something.

I cleaned up the kitchen and added my empty to the growing pile in the trash. Frowning I went to the fridge and counted the box, surprised to see only 2 left in the 12 pack case. Ten, Jimmy? What the fuck is wrong with you man? Didn't you promise Myra you were going to watch it? Shit, she's going to be pissed at me.

I went out to the garage and opened one of the stacks of 12 packs out there, bringing 6 of them into the house where I refilled the existing box. I then took all but four of the empties from the pail and went out to my Charger where I placed them in a plastic bag and hid them in my trunk. Real smooth, Jimmy. Hiding your drinking from Myra. Real fucking mature.

I needed to clear my head and it was too late to break out the weights from under the bed. I scratched around the hall closet and took the jump rope I had hanging there down, stepping out to the backyard where I did some light stretching and then began jumping; trying to get my heart rate up. I didn't wrestle anymore, high school was long over, but my coach at that time had impressed upon me the need to constantly exercise. "Jim," he had said, "a big man like you will one day turn into a fat man. And a fat man is a slow man. You need to do things to keep yourself light on your feet so that your opponents will only see a big fat slow man - and not the dynamo you can be."

I counted off as I jumped, the whizzing whirling noise the rope made as it passed over my head and under my dancing feet lulling me into a calmer mindset as I felt my heart pump faster. I could feel my calf muscles tense and loosen on each thrust of the balls of my feet. My wrists spun the twirling rope relentlessly around and around, the wooden handles growing warmer in my grasp as I skipped my way up and down. The rope sizzled as I worked it round and round, crossing my wrists in front of me to give myself a bit of a challenge only to cross it back when the rope passed behind my head.

When I topped two hundred I slowed down and let the rope wind itself out, eventually falling slack at my feet. I could feel my carotid pulsing near my throat and my breath deep and even. I rolled the rope up and wandered inside, uncomfortable with the sweat on my brow. My teeth felt skuzzy so I brushed them, washing up in the sink afterwards. I didn't like the way I looked, something was wrong and it bothered me to see it in my face. "What the fuck, Jimmy," I addressed my reflection. "You a wimp? Some pussy? Man the fuck up and fix your head."