I'm Okay, You're Not Okay Pt. 02

Two minutes into the new "All In the Family" episode, President Gerald Ford preempted the Saturday night broadcast with a speech about his plan to fight inflation.

Margaret groaned. "Ugh, I don't want to watch this horseshit."

"Me neither -- I hate that bald-headed asshole." Nicole snapped her fingers at her husband. "See what else is on."

Jimmy clambered from his spot on the floor and flipped the TV to Channel 5, which also carried the President's address. Ditto for Channel 2, while Channel 9 aired "Jacques Cousteau." Jimmy tried the UHF options; Channel 44 was halfway through a rerun of "The Untouchables," while an Oral Roberts sermon played on Channel 32.

"Just leave on 'The Untouchables,' I guess," Marlene said. Jimmy turned the channel back to 44 but the picture wouldn't stop rolling. Marlene told her son-in-law to go to the kitchen to get a fork to wedge onto the antenna but that didn't help. Jimmy touched the antenna and the picture stabilized.

"Ooh, right there," Marlene said. "Don't move."

Jimmy held the antenna for a few minutes before letting go. The picture rolled again.

Nicole smacked her lips. "Damn it, Jimmy hold it."

"You ... you want me to stand here for the whole show?"

"Just hold the damn thing and shut up."

Jimmy felt like an oaf standing next to the TV holding the antenna, but as usual, he obeyed his wife and mother-in-law with no backtalk. He eventually forgot about his plight and got lost in the storyline about Elliot Ness and his team of booze-busters, although after a few minutes Jimmy's arm started to ache. During a commercial break, he took a chance and let go of the antenna to rub his sore shoulder, hoping he wouldn't get yelled at. Nobody said anything and he made sure to regrip the metal rod before the show came back on. When the episode was over, the ladies had Jimmy flip to "The Mary Tyler Moore Show" on Channel 2. Since the picture came in okay, he was able to retake his seat on the carpet beside his wife's easy chair. "Bob Newhart" followed MTM, and when the sitcom ended, Marlene announced she was headed to bed.

"Ugh, I drank too much wine at the barbecue earlier -- I'm still sloshy." The older woman rose from the couch and squinted at Jimmy. "Make sure that kitchen is clean, hear me? I don't want to wake up and see a sink full of dishes."

"Um okay, I'll get it done tonight for sure."

Marlene didn't answer as she kissed her daughter goodnight and shuffled toward her bedroom.

Once his mother-in-law was out of earshot, Jimmy licked his lips. "Um, Nikki ... uh, can we talk?"

"About what?"

"Uh ... well ... earlier tonight."

Nicole scrunched up her face. "Earlier tonight what?"

"Did ... well, did you have to tell my personal business to that Mike guy? About ... you know ... about how small I am?"

"That 'Mike guy' is an old friend of mine, and I was kidding around with him. Lighten up, it was a goddamn joke." Nicole scowled. "Don't start with me tonight, Jimmy."

"I ... I don't want to argue, honey, I really don't--"

"Then quit while you're ahead."

Jimmy held out his hands. "But honey -- that really wasn't cool telling him my personal business like that. It's embarrassing. And now, I ... I've got to work for the guy? Everyone I work with is gonna know how ... how small I am?"

"Oh, jeez." Nicole rolled her eyes. "I doubt Mike's gonna remember anything that was said tonight; we were all pretty drunk. And besides, he's not gonna say anything at the damn bar, anyway. Why would he? You think he's gonna go around telling all his employees that the new porter has a little dick?"

Jimmy winced but didn't reply.

Nicole's lips tightened. "Mom says Mike runs a tight ship down there and wants things done just so. You'd better not embarrass me, Jimmy."

"Um, well, see ... uh, that's the other thing I was wanting to talk about. I ... I don't know ... you know, about this job, honey. Um ... I mean ... washing dishes? Cleaning bathrooms? I just--"

"Oh, so you're too good to wash dishes and clean bathrooms?"

"Well, no, I'm not saying that, but--"

"But nothing. You've been looking for work for two months. There's a recession going on, dumbass, in case you didn't notice, and jobs are hard to come by. You might as well wipe your ass with your Mickey Mouse college degree for all the good it's done you. Besides, you already accepted the job, and Mike's counting on you to start tomorrow -- there's no way you're backing out now. He's a good friend of mine and I won't do that to him."

Jimmy drew a breath. "Um ... so, how do you know him again?"

Nicole chuckled. "Are you asking if I fucked him?"

Jimmy lowered his gaze. "No."

"Bullshit, that's exactly what you're asking. Okay, then, let's get it out in the open. Yeah, Jimmy -- Mike was my boyfriend in high school. He was my first, and we were together until he got drafted. He told me he didn't want me waiting for him, so after he went to Vietnam I tried to move on. I took that receptionist's job in Centerville and met you. The rest is history -- unfortunately."

"What do you mean 'unfortunately?' Is our marriage really that bad?"

Nicole scoffed. "Do you really have to ask?"

"Why? Because I lost my job?"

"No -- because you're spineless. You got no balls, Jimmy. You wouldn't have been fired if you weren't so scared of that idiot. I told you to tell your boss he was stealing. Did you listen to me? No. Why? Because you're spineless."

"But--"

"No balls."

"But, honey--"

"Noooooo ballllllls." Nicole sniffed. "You got no balls, Jimmy."

"You won't listen to me -- Joe's a fucking gangster. His cousin's in the Mafia."

"Oh, bullshit. You're scared of your own shadow and you always have been. Now, we're done. I don't want to talk about this anymore. You start at the bar tomorrow, and maybe after a while we can save up enough money to get our own place -- because I'm not living in Mom's basement forever, Jimmy. With or without you, I'm moving out ... and soon."

"Why do you always say stuff like that, honey? I'm trying the best I can."

"Well, then do whatever Mike says and don't fuck up this job."

"Okay, I won't." Jimmy played with his sleeve. "Um ... he acts like he still wants you, Nikki."

"Maybe he does. Maybe I want him."

Jimmy winced. "Come on, honey. Why you gotta talk like that?"

"Talk like what? You mean telling the truth?"

Jimmy balled his fists. "So, you're saying you want him?"

Nicole snorted. "Well, gee, what do you think, genius? Did you get a look at him? What woman WOULDN'T want him? He's a fucking beefcake."

"Come on, Nikki--"

"Come on what? Don't ask a question if you don't like the answer."

Jimmy huffed. "I hate it when you get like this. I'm going to bed."

"Not before you do those dishes you're not."

Cursing under his breath, Jimmy plodded to the kitchen and started cleaning. By the time he finished, Nicole had gone to the basement. Jimmy trudged downstairs, lay on the mattress next to his slumbering wife and touched her leg. She brushed his hand away. Rolling over, he worried himself to sleep.

During Sunday breakfast, much to Jimmy's chagrin, Mike was a popular topic.

"Tina tried to take the bar in the divorce, but Dottie was smart and kept the business in her name," Marlene said. "She told me right before the wedding that she would never officially sign it over to him as long as he stayed married to her."

"That WAS smart; I don't blame her for not trusting that conniving little bitch." Nicole sipped her coffee. "Is the bar in his name now?"

"Yeah, she signed it over as soon as the divorce was final." Marlene took a bite of eggs and spit it out. "Ggggg, what the fuck! There's shells in this, Jimmy."

"Um ... sorry. Y-you want me to make more?"

"Well, what do you think, Numb-Nuts?" She shoved her plate away. "Am I supposed to eat eggshells?"

"S-sorry."

"You really aren't the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"

"S-sorry," Jimmy repeated a third time. He ducked into the kitchen and recooked his mother-in-law's eggs the way she liked them, scrambled with cheese. As he worked at the stove, he gritted his teeth and listened to the ladies gush about Mike.

"Dottie says he's really worked wonders with the bar," Marlene said. "She tried to run it after Big Mike died, but she doesn't really have a head for business. Mike took over when he got out of the Army and they've already expanded twice."

"Wow, really?" Nicole nibbled a slice of bacon. "That's funny because he was always so terrible in school."

"Yeah, you did all his homework for him or he'd have never graduated." Marlene picked up her cup and frowned. "Hey, I could use a refill in here," she called into the kitchen.

Jimmy turned down the flame on the stove and rushed into the dining room with the coffee pot. After topping off both ladies' cups, he returned to the kitchen, where Marlene's eggs were about done. He pulled a clean plate from the cupboard and set the fresh serving on the table in front of his mother-in-law.

Marlene picked up her fork. "Are there gonna be a bunch of shells again?"

"Um ... no, I don't think so."

"Well, praise be, that's one giant step for humanity." Marlene smirked. "So ... you ready for your first big day at the Sitting Bull?"

"Um, yeah."

"What time you start?"

"Mike says he needs to get there at 6," Nicole answered for her husband. "It'll be 6 to 3am, seven days a week."

Jimmy's jaw dropped. "S-seven days a week? I didn't ... nobody told me that. I ... I don't get a day off?"

"What do you need a day off for?" Nicole dipped her forefinger in her orange juice and sucked it clean. "You got something better to do?"

"Well, no, but ... I mean, I'd like one day to rest."

"Oh, quit your whining already." Nicole scoffed. "It's not like you're working in a goddamn coal mine. You'll be cleaning toilets and wiping down tables, for chrissakes. It's not gonna kill ya."

"But--"

"But nothing, Jimmy. You need to decide if you want to earn money for this family so we can move out of here and get our own place -- or if you want, I can start making other arrangements." Nicole eyeballed her wimp of a husband and thrust the dagger: "I'll get the Yellow Pages right now and find a divorce lawyer."

Tears filled Jimmy's eyes. "No, Nikki, please ... no, seven days isn't such a big deal. I really do want to earn money for ... for this family. I understand you want us to get a place of our own, and I'll work hard to do that, I promise." He turned to his mother-in-law. "I'll get us out of your hair, okay?"

Margaret grunted. "Promises, promises."

Nicole lit a Virginia Slim and blew smoke through her nose. "So, you figure at $2 an hour under-the-table, at nine hours a day, seven days a week, that comes to more than $100 a week. Between that and the unemployment, we should be able to get our own place pretty soon."

Marlene, chuckled. "Well, YOU can stay as long as you want to, baby. I don't know about Shit-Head, though. You get on my damn nerves, you know that, Jimmy?"

The henpecked hubby gulped. "Um, I'm sorry, Marlene, I don't mean to. I really do appreciate you letting us stay here, and I don't want to be a burden."

"Well, you DO have SOME uses." Marlene jerked her thumb toward the back door. "Since you don't start till 6, that should give you plenty of time to get that garage cleaned out today, huh?"

"Uh, sure, I was gonna get to that a little later," Jimmy said.

"No, you'll get to it now." Nicole held out her cup. "Here, fill that up again first."

It took several hours to clean Marlene's garage although Jimmy was grateful for the distraction. He dreaded starting his first shift at the Sitting Bull Bar & Grill, where he knew he'd be low man on the totem pole at an establishment owned by his wife's rich, handsome, muscular ex -- the man who'd taken her virginity and clearly wanted another round, something Nicole seemed interested in pursuing as well.

As it got closer to 6pm, Jimmy's asthma flared up as it often did when he was stressed, and he had a difficult time catching his breath. A feeling of impending doom washed over the poor milksop, although as the Witching Hour approached, he jutted out his sunken chin, squared his bony shoulders and vowed to push through his fears for the sake of his wobbly marriage.

"Do it for Nikki," he whispered to himself in the mirror as he combed his hair. "Don't fuck this up."