The Training of Jeff Stintum Ch. 04

An hour later, a phone call from his mother put a temporary stop to his binge. His parents had received an email as well about his condition, since Jeff always put down their contact information (sometimes in addition to his own, sometimes not) on any forms he was filling out, since they paid for everything and also since he didn't have time to deal with a lot of nonsense.

His parents were grave over dinner that night, and Jeff noticed with annoyance that something dramatic had apparently happened. His parents, usually kind to a fault, were all business tonight.

"Jeff," his mom began, "First thing's first. You're going to have this surgery."

He looked at her in frustration and then simply huffed over his pasta and meatballs without saying anything.

"This explains why you've been in pain for so long," his mother continued deliberately, "and probably why you've frankly been wasting away." She gestured to his seated form, which sat cross-legged at the table.

Jeff rolled his eyes. "Mom, I'm not...wasting away at all, I just haven't —"

"You are Jeff," interrupted his mother firmly, "and what's more, your lifestyle is what's caused this condition. It says alcoholism is a risk factor, and you definitely drink too much, Jeff. You drink too much, you smoke too much, you don't get good sleep, you're not actively engaged in anything, and it's made you start to crumble, on the inside and the outside." Her voice quivered with emotion as she spoke, but her resolution never faltered.

Jeff looked around at anything but his parents, and decided to laugh. "Oh come on," he said casually, trying to lighten the mood, "Can't I be allowed some time to think and decide what I need to do? The world is a pretty messed up place, and I really need the — "

"It's been years, Jeff," his mother interrupted again. "Years. You had a job a while back. You got fired from that job, for drinking, as I recall. And since then you've done nothing except drink and smoke weed and hang out with that pitiful John person. You don't even play drums anymore. What has your life become?"

Jeff sat there with a silly grin on his face, unable to comprehend why his parents were being so serious all of the sudden. His mother turned to his father.

"Do you have anything to add, Carl?" Carl shook his head, staring at Jeff with his arms folded and a darkened expression furrowing his brow.

"Well, that's pretty much it, then," his mother continued. "This "avascular necrosis" condition has really hit home some important realities for us, Jeff. Your father and I have decided that you will move in with us. This surgery will be hard, and you will need time to recover. We want to provide a safe place for that, a place where you won't be drinking and smoking. We're going to help you start a rehab program for your drinking. And we'll continue to provide you with love and support, with a roof over your head and good food to eat, through this whole process. The only condition is that you live here with us."

Jeff was angry now. "Rehab?!? Are you fucking kidding me?" he burst out in a whine. "There's nothing wrong with my drinking! Do you understand the thoughts I have under the influence of alcohol?? They're deep thoughts, and they're real, and they help me become a...a deeper person who appreciates...beauty more! And as for rehab — "

"Jeff," his father's voice calmly cut in. "This is not up for discussion. Jen and I both love you very much, and we hate to see you angry like this, but as of tonight we're cutting off your money. We can't keep allowing you to live this self-destructive lifestyle that messes up your brain and makes your bones decay."

Jeff got up from the table and slowly backed away. "This can't be happening," he said shakily as he backed up. "You guys can't be...be serious about this. I'm a...I'm a man! A man needs his own space!" He noticed with sudden horror the arms of his mother folded in her lap, and how her legs filled the chair in which she sat. His mother wasn't tall or robust by any means! And yet he noticed her stable wrists and sturdy arms, and strong hips that filled out her pants. An image of Sarah's swaggering ass flashed in his mind, along with her long fingers tearing off a piece of paper as she looked down kindly at him. He shook his head desperately, unable to get rid of these thoughts, as he felt blood trickle decisively into his cock.

"You all are crazy!" Jeff managed as he backed his way to the front door. "You're...you're out of your minds!" He closed the door shut and got into his car and drove to the nearest liquor store as fast as he could, hoping that his parents hadn't already cut off his money. He was relieved to buy a pint of cheap whiskey, and on his way home, he checked his account balance for good measure. $3.85. Enough for a coffee. He sighed. He knew that he was going to move in with his parents. What else was he supposed to do, get a job? In this messed up system? Also (he realized as he walked into his room with the whiskey) it's free food. And his mom was a great cook. Not a bad gig, when you really thought about it. Jeff had pushed his mother's words about his body and his lifestyle out of his mind. But he had bought this whiskey because Sarah Helleger existed in the world, and somehow she had cast a spell over his mind. He hated it; it made him feel crazy, helpless, controlled. And he was not going to be controlled. He opened the bottle and got drinking.

A few hours later, sloppy drunk, he finally did what he had been thinking about for weeks. He fumbled over to his nightstand, picked up the piece of paper with Sarah's number, and called it. It was 1:22 am, on an early Tuesday morning. The ringtone rang one, two, three, four times, and then...Sarah's chipper voice, but somehow deeper. Was that her real voice? As drunk as he was, Jeff could still see her talking:

"Hello, you've reached Sarah Helleger. I'm not able to come to the phone right now, but leave your name and number and I'll call you back as soon as I can. Thank you!"

"Uh...hi..S-ssSarah...Sarah it's me!! Jeff...uhuh..Jefffff Stintum. Ahhhha wwwellll, I was just umm, just ummmm...calling you to say — uh, what's going on Sarah?? Huh?! I mean, uh...uh how've ya been?!? Do you likkke, uh...do you like, uhhh, like go on DATES with other people?!?! Hahahahaha!! Right?!? I mean like dudezz who go withh you, out with you...Do they have like BIG dicksss?? Hahahaha!! Cause I do!! Hahahahahaha!! I really, really doooo!! I thinkkk you'd be pretttyyyy impre — pretty impresssssed by it. Oh my goddddd too funny! Ahaha!! Do you date, like black dudes, Sarah??!? Sarah!! I mean like maybeee you date girlssss toooo, no one's judging not me I mean oh woooowww that would be hot!! Ho Ho man!! But black...black guys...um...uh...I'm trying to bite off this fingernail...thumbnail...uh, Sarah??!? Sarah!! I think you did something to me Sarah!! What did you do to me!!?!? Oh fuck, I fell down...Hahahahahaha!! Well, that's...that's all I have, Sarah!! Do you want to hang out let's hang out. Be the adult you want to see...to see in the world!! That's the advice from me, and keep it easy, man...eeeasssyyyy...plus, Sarah — "

And it was here that Jeff's message was cut off, due to time length. Jeff laughed and put his phone down and promptly passed out on his floor.

The next morning, at 11 am, Jeff woke up with a carpet design imprinted into his face, and a splitting pain in his head. He lay awake with his eyes closed for a few moments, and then a sudden blaze tore through his brain: he had called Sarah last night!! He had left her a message!! What had he said???? Had she replied??? He caught up his phone in a flash and opened it and looked at his messages. One from Sarah Helleger. It read:

"Hi Jeff. Sure I'd like to hang out. How does this afternoon work for you?"