He walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. No beer left. He knew better than to check the cupboard. The whiskey was long gone. No hair of the dog this morning. He took two aspirins with a full glass of water. He had to re-hydrate. He set up the coffee pot and turned it on. Then he climbed into a hot shower. Hot was the operative word. The water stung a bit at first. His bathroom soon resembled a sauna. He took a deep breath through his nose, hoping the steam would clear his sinuses. Re-hydrate, sweat out the poison, and clear the sinuses; those were the first steps. He was not much of a drinker before his wife died. Now he was a self-proclaimed expert on hangovers.
He had to pass the spare room on the way to his bedroom. The door of the spare room was always closed because he did not want to look inside. It did not contain anything out of the ordinary. In fact, it was almost stark from its lack of adornment. It was furnished with a single bed, a dresser and two night stands. That was his doing, or overdoing according to his wife.
“It’s supposed to be a nursery,” she objected.
“There’s still room for a crib and such, and the rest is ready whenever he is.”
“Or she.”
They both laughed, but it was not to be. They underwent a battery of tests. The tests revealed that she could not have children. It was selfish, but he was glad it was not a problem with him. At least that was one thing he did not have to feel guilty about. His wife was very religious. She pronounced it God’s will, and she would not defy God’s will be going to a fertility clinic or anything like that. He suggested adopting. She did not like the idea at first, but her desire to have a baby finally made her agree to do it. Who would have believed that adopting would be so difficult. He had reached a mid-management position with an Aerospace company, and she was a secretary. They were not wealthy, but they made more than enough to provide for a child. They were also good, church going people. The problem was that she did not want a child. She wanted a baby, the younger the better. It also had to be a white baby whose mother was not addicted to drugs or alcohol.
“It’s not that I’m prejudice,” she said. “I just want a baby that looks like ours, and one that’s not starting out with a lot of problems.”
She settled for an ungrateful cat that died of old age and over-eating.
He finished dressing and walked into the kitchen. There he drank another glass of water. He then buttered a slice of bread and forced himself to eat it. If he could hold it down, he would be on his way to recovery. He poured a cup of coffee and took it into the living room. Wind driven drops of rain were pelting the windows. He turned on the television, thinking that the modulated voices of the news anchors would provide enough background noise to make the thunder seem less jarring. There was a flash and a bang as he plopped down on the sofa. The warmth of the coffee cup he held in his shaking hand was soothing. He took a few sips before setting the cup on the end table. He closed his eyes seeking sleep. Precious, healing sleep. God, how he wanted to heal!
That was when the nightmare started. The worst part was that the dream was too true. It was like a videotape of the tragedy. He had survived the layoffs that had reduced his company to a mere shell of its former self. He only had two years to go before he qualified for an early retirement and could start drawing money from his 401K without incurring a penalty. The company was kind enough to try to hang on to him for that long. Then there was the merger. The new company was cutting costs by outsourcing jobs. He had heard the speech before. It was the same speech used during the initial round of layoffs. “You have valuable skills that will transfer well to other industries, but don’t let prospective employers know you worked in Aerospace.” What the hell was he supposed to tell them? “Hi, I’m Jim. I’ve just spent the last eighteen years twiddling my dick, but I can do wonderful things for your company.”
Jim tried to put on the happy face. He went to an employment agency. He read the want ads and the financial page. He even tried pounding the pavement. He went to companies unannounced and delivered his resume in the futile hope that someone would be impressed. No one was. He either did not have the experience prospective employers wanted or he was over-qualified. “Over qualified” was a phrase he learned to hate. It reached the point where he wanted to throttle anyone who used it. His wife accused him of not trying hard enough to find a job, and that made him want to throttle her.
“What am I supposed to do?” he asked her.
“Find something, anything. Anything’s better than nothing!”
The anything he found was Walmart. It was minimum wage and only part time work, which is how they got away with not providing even the most basic benefits. The fact that it was part time allowed him to continue his frustrating search.
He and his wife were going over the bills. There was always a heated discussion about which bills to put off and which ones had to be paid immediately. She started gasping for air. She had suffered from shortness of breath before, but nothing like this. She could not seem to get enough air into her lungs. He raced her to the emergency room. He thought it was an asthma attack caused by the stress, and so did the doctors. They were wrong. It was a heart attack, and it killed her. In spite of all their recent bickering, she was the love of his life. Now she was gone. Why did she have to leave him at a time when their relationship was so strained? Did she know he still loved her? He felt guilty about the fact that he did not have the chance to tell her he did.
He thought about taking another mortgage out on the house. Fortunately, her life insurance paid enough for the funeral. It also provided enough for the last car payment and the next mortgage payment. With his car now paid for the rest of his expenses might be manageable. He quit Walmart and went to work at a convenience market. They did not pay any more than Walmart did, but it was full time. He worked as much over time as he could get. It was more than the need for money that made him work so many hours; it was also the void. His house was lifeless, and his life was empty. He worked himself to the point of exhaustion and then he slept. He applied for social security early. He stopped working for the convenience market as soon as the first check arrived. He was also going to start drawing money from his 401K, but he was too late. The stock market crashed and his retirement account was wiped out. The only saving grace was that he had not refinanced the house or borrowed against it. This was a good thing because his present mortgage had a very low fixed rate. Banks were now failing and the ones still in business were hiking the variable rates through the roof.
This was when Jim started drinking. Why not? He had nothing else to do. There were no good jobs. There was no one who depended on him. There was no one to share his joy, or encourage him, or be disappointed with him. He woke up with tears in his eyes. He thought he heard something scratching at his front door. He got up from the sofa. That was when he heard a faint whimper. He opened the door to find a little black dog. This mutt was just a little larger than a cocker spaniel. It was soaking wet and shivering. It was also very thin.
“Did you get abandoned by someone who had his house repossessed?” Jim asked.
The dog looked up at him with big, sorrowful eyes. “Oh, what the hell.” Jim moved out of the dog’s way. “Well, come on.”
The dog entered cautiously. Jim went to get a towel. He was moving slowly because of the hangover. The slowness of his movements seemed to put the dog at ease. He even let Jim dry him off. “You’re nothing but skin and bones,” Jim said.
He scrambled four eggs. Two were for him and two were for the dog. Jim was feeling much better after breakfast. So was the dog. The dog curled up in front of a heater vent. Wet dog was not a pleasant smell, but it was no worse than the smell of the stale beer. The news was over and the networks were now in full babble mode. Jim switched to CNN. The dog was now at his feet sniffing his legs. Whatever the dog detected must have been all right because he jumped up on the sofa. He did this warily. He stood as far from Jim as possible. It was as if he was waiting for Jim to yell at him. When it became apparent that Jim was not going to yell the dog approached him. He gave Jim a rather thorough sniffing before sprawling across his lap. This dog was the first living thing that wanted to be close to Jim in a long time. It was only a dog, but Jim already felt a strong affection for him. He decided to call him stormy.
Jackson was hiding in a gym locker. He waited for the custodian to finish the floor and lock up the place before coming out. The mats were rolled up against the wall. The rolls were loose enough to let him get between the folds. It made a warm bed and kept him concealed. The problem was that it meant he could not scrounge around for anything to eat. It also left Rufus alone to fend for himself. But this was a cold night, and it looked like it was going to rain.
Jim made breakfast for himself and Stormy. After the news he and Stormy chased each other around the room. In the afternoon, Jim decided to buy Stormy some dog food. There was no need to go to the market. The liquor store charged more, but it was still cheaper than driving to the store. He cut off a rope to use as a leash and tied it to Stormy’s collar. It was a leisurely trip with many stops for tree sniffing and marking. A half a can of dog food was all that a dog Stormy’s size needed. Jim picked up two cans, and a large can of refried beans for himself. This would not leave him enough money to buy beer. He tried to do the calculations in his mind. What would he have to put back in order to afford the beer? He finally decided he did not need the beer. He had already gone one night without drinking himself to sleep. He would now try for two.
School was out, and Jackson was looking for Rufus. Sometimes Rufus would beg in front of convenience stores and fast food places. Jackson knew about a pizza place in a neighborhood that was mostly white. This meant a lot of uneaten crust. There was also a liquor store there, and its roof hung out far enough to shield Rufus from the worst of the rain.
Jim and Stormy were on their way back from the liquor store. They had just reached Jim’s front yard. Jim turned at the walkway to his front door, but Stormy turned the opposite direction. He was tugging on the rope. There was a black boy running down the sidewalk toward them. He was wearing what Jim called doofus drawers, meaning those baggy shorts that came down to the calves. The kid also had a large tote bag strapped to his back. Judging by the way he was running, the bag must have been pretty heavy. The kid stopped on the sidewalk in front of Jim’s house.
“Rufus!”
Jim let go of the rope. The dog ran over to Jackson and danced. It was obviously a joyful reunion.
“Is he your dog?”
“Yeah, he still is. Momma’s boyfriend kicked him out of the house and won’t buy food for him, but I feeds him when I can.”
The kid was as thin as the dog was. His clothes were filthy. Jim thought he probably had lice.
“What about you? Does he buy you food?”
“The mother fucker don’t like me, but I do okay. Guess Rufus and me be outcasts.”
The boy could not have been more than twelve years old. Hearing that profanity from such a young mouth was jarring. It was harsh language for a harsh world. Jim tried not to judge him.
“I guess I’m sort of an outcast too,” he said.
“Yeah, right.”
“I was going to feed the dog and have dinner. Are you hungry?”
Jackson had already revealed more than he wanted to tell. This could have consequences. He also knew enough to be leery of strange men.
“You ain’t some kind of molester, are you?”
“No, and you have Rufus to protect you.”
The boy looked like he was going to laugh, but he held it in. “I guess dinner wouldn’t hurt none,” he said.
Jim fed Rufus. He then made scrambled eggs, which he covered with refried beans and cheese. He would have added salsa, but he could not afford it this time. The boy was actually cleaner than Jim realized. He even washed his hands without Jim telling him. Cleanliness was not much of a problem. Jackson showered every day at the school after Gym class. Finding a place to wash his clothes was more difficult. His mamma would wash them for him sometimes. She also gave him small amounts of money when she had more than she needed for her next fix. That was not often. She had gotten pretty bad lately. Jackson would stay at the apartment with her when her pimp was not around. That was not often, either.
“You eat like a Mexican,” he said. “Pretty good with the eggs and cheese though.”
“The Mexicans know what they’re doing. The beans are filling and provide a lot of energy.”
“But they make you fart.”
“That’s not so bad. I save mine up. If someone tries to mug me, I use them like an afterburner and choke the mugger on my exhaust.”
This had done it. He had finally made the boy laugh.
“Why’d you name your dog Rufus?”
“Cause he’s black like me. Was gonna name him Rastus, but momma said that was going too far.”
“I agree. If I named a black dog Rastus, people would think I was a racist.”
“Just because white folks deny it don’t mean they ain’t.”
“You’re not calling me a racist, are you?”
“You is good enough to invite me for dinner. I thanks you for that.”
Jim suddenly realized that this kid was a lot more sophisticated than he wanted people to know. It was amazing for someone his age. It was also sad.
“What’s in the tote?”
“School books mostly.”
The kid was still going to school. Jim’s initial thought was that the boy probably did it because of the free lunch, but there had to be more to it. He must like learning. Why else would he bother to lug around those heavy books.
“If you had spare clothes with you, you could put the ones you’re wearing in my washing machine.”
Jackson was thinking it over. He had a pair of jeans, one pair of boxer shorts and a pair of socks in the bag. They were not any cleaner than what he was wearing. Maybe he could wash what he had in his tote plus the sweat shirt he was wearing over his tee shirt and his jacket. It would be good to have clean clothes. He finally said “okay.”
Jim watched him empty the bag to get to the clothes. One of the books was surprising. It was The Red Pony by John Steinbeck. It was difficult for Jim to remember what he was capable of reading and understanding at that age, but Steinbeck seemed pretty advanced for a twelve year old.
“Want me to show you how to use the washer?”
“I can figure it out.”
Jim picked up The Red Pony on his way to the sofa. “Jackson Douglas” was written on the inside of the cover, and there was an address under the name. Rufus jumped up on the sofa and curled up next to him. Jim had just set the book on the coffee table and turned on the television when Jackson entered the room.
“It seems strange to use a washer that doesn’t take your money.”
“I guess it would. By the way, I’m Jim.”
Jackson glanced over at the book on the coffee table. “You probably already know I’m Jackson. The library was getting rid of old books so taking it was no big thing.”
“I wasn’t going to ask about that. It’s just that it’s been a long time since I’ve read that book. Can you refresh my recollection?”
The look on Jackson’s face said that he knew Jim was testing him. “I’ve just finished the first story. It says adults aren’t always right and don’t know as much as you might think.”
Now it was confirmed. Jackson had purposely used bad grammar. He had been putting Jim on. “What you know depends on what you’ve studied and how much thought you’ve given things. If you’re smart, you never stop thinking or learning.”
They sat there silently watching the news. Jackson got up to put his clothes in the dryer.
“The Lakers game will come on after the news,” Jim said. “You like the Lakers?”
“I love the Lakers!”
At the end of the first quarter Jackson said he was surprised that Jim was not drinking beer.
“I had to choose between it and food this week.”
“So you’re poor.”
“I told you I’m an outcast.”
“But you fed Rufus and me.”
“I can afford to do that, but it means eating a lot of beans.”
Jackson laughed. “Look out Muggers!” He got up and walked out of the room. He came back wearing his clean clothes. “Hope you don’t mind if I wash the ones I was wearing.”
“Not at all.”
“I’m glad you’re not getting drunk. You never know what a drunk’s going to do when his team loses.”
“I just swear a bit, but the Lakers are going to win this one.”
The Lakers did win, and Jackson repacked his tote bag.
“You can save yourself a walk home by using my spare bedroom if you want.”
“Aren’t you afraid my momma will be worried about me?’
“You can use my phone and decide what to do after talking to her.”
The response was obvious, but it still took Jackson by surprise. It told him the old dude knew he had been sleeping on the street. That was not good. There was always the chance he would be one of those do-gooders who would contact child services or something. There was no sense in making up a lie about his mother thinking he was staying at a friend’s house. Jim would know better.
“Maybe I should see the room and decide.” They walked into the bedroom. “Can I lock the door?”
“Yes, and Rufus can stay in here with you.”
Jackson was gone by the time Jim woke up. Rufus, however, was still there. He was begging for something to eat.
“I wish someone was feeding your master breakfast,” Jim said.
If nothing else, the dog gave Jackson an excuse to come back for another meal. He would probably use the place as a crash pad as well. So now Jim was going to have two more mouths to feed. He laughed. It beat being alone all the time. Maybe he could get his job back at the convenience store. The convenience store did not have an opening, but the liquor store did. He was warned that the hours could be irregular, but he would not have to work a lot of overtime. Tomorrow he would be on the day shift, and the owner would be there to train him.
Jackson did not show up that night. Jim was worried about him. He thought about looking for him, but he knew that a tough, smart kid like Jackson would resent it. A small desk and a table lamp were among the items cluttering Jim’s garage. He placed the desk and the lamp in the spare bedroom so that Jackson would have some place to study if he decided to spend the night again.
When Jim returned from work the next day he found Jackson sitting on the front steps.
“Thought I’d visit Rufus. Where’ve you been?”
Jim opened the door and Rufus bounded out of the house. “I’ve got a job at the liquor store.”
“Be careful. I don’t want you getting shot.”
“I will be. Are you hungry?”
“Beans don’t sound too bad.”
“I thought we’d have chicken.”
“Sounds even better.”
“Have you done your homework?”
“At the library. It’s easier now that you have Rufus. I don’t have to keep checking on him.”
“Then I guess you won’t need the desk and lamp I put in the bedroom.”
“I might use them, but I hope you didn’t buy them.”
“They weren’t doing anyone any good sitting in my garage.”
“Good. Feeding me now and then is more than enough.”
“I get tired of eating alone.”
Jackson smiled. “So do I.”
“Yeah,” Jim thought. “When you’re lucky enough to find something to eat.”
Jackson spent the night and was gone by the time Jim woke up. Jim came home from work to find him sitting on the steps again. There was a trashcan liner sitting next to him.
“I thought I could wash more clothes, if you don’t mind.”
Jim waited until they sat down for dinner before asking. “Have you done your homework?”
“I did most of it while waiting for you.”
“I’ll leave the back door unlocked for you.”
Jackson stayed for ten days. Then he left a note saying he was visiting his momma. He returned two days later.
“How’s your mom?”
“She’s been better. I always stay with her around this time of month. That’s when the bastard isn’t there.”
This told Jim more than he wanted to know. “God damn.” He should not have said it, but it slipped out before he could stop himself.
“You shouldn’t fuck with the man’s name like that,” Jackson said.
“What?”
“Reverend Cass said God doesn’t like it when you use his name like that.”
“You could have just told me not to use God’s name in vain.”
“But it wouldn’t have made you laugh.”
Now Jim was laughing. “Okay, but don’t say things like that in front of other people.”
“I don’t in front of teachers or preachers or mom.”
“So she used to take you to church.”
“She wasn’t always like this. She cleaned other people’s houses. She worked long hours to keep us fed. She’d be dead tired, but she always made me dinner. I guess she couldn’t keep it up. She couldn’t do it any more.”
“There are a lot of ways to give up. Drugs and booze are the worst.”
“That’s how she’s doing it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t tell anyone else, okay?”
“I won’t.”
Jim had thought about talking to Jackson’s mother. He had hoped there was some way he could help. Now he knew there was nothing he could do. There was no way a black woman on drugs was going to listen to some honky son of a bitch regardless of his good intentions. He could not help wondering how many Jackson’s there were, and how many girls (black and white) were doomed to the type of life Jackson’s mother now lived, if you can call that living.
Jackson dropped all pretenses about coming by to visit Rufus. He was now living at Jim’s house full time, except on those two or three days a month when Jackson stayed with his mom. She was often too stoned to know or care that he was there. But there were those moments when she would hug him or smile and call him her precious boy.
Jim tried to take Jackson to church once. He chose a different church than the one that he and his wife used to attend, but that did not help. The church still reminded him of his wife and what he had lost. It brought him sadness rather than comfort. Jackson had another reason for not wanting to go to church. He could see the other parishioners staring at him and Jim, and that made Jackson uncomfortable.
“It may be God’s house, but it’s also the house of those people. You know they’re thinking the worst of us,” he said.
Jim was tempted to say that Jackson should not be so quick to judge them. He was tempted to say they should get to know those people. But he did not say those things. Instead he said: “The hell with them. We be outcasts.”
Jackson laughed. “You’d make a horrible black person.”
Jackson started sharing his graded homework with Jim. There was only one B. All of the rest were A’s. “Too bad about the B,” Jackson said, “but I think I can still get an A in that class. Mr. Carter said someone might pay for me to go to college if I get all A’s. He said I could become someone important.”
“There’s no doubt in my mind that you will. I’m really proud of you, Jackson!”
It had become almost a father and son relationship, but Jackson was older than his years. He did need much guidance or supervision. The one thing that bothered Jim was Jackson’s social life. He did not seem to have one. He would occasionally play basketball at the school, but that was it.
One Sunday Jim took him to the beach and they fished off the pier. Jackson had never fished before, and he was thrilled with the few fish he caught. Jim used some chicken broth, onions and rice to make a thin fish soup. He also added some cheep white wine. Jim had a glass of the wine with the meal. He put the twist on cap onto the bottle and put the bottle back in the refrigerator. It was the only time Jackson had seen him drink. Jackson had never known anyone who stopped at a single glass before. It was a good lesson.
The school’s budget was tight, but it still offered a few advanced summer courses. Jackson was well qualified for those classes. The problem was that the students had to buy their own books. Jim offered to buy them for him. Jackson was also growing out of his clothes, and Jim offered to buy him some clothes and shoes as well.
“It’ll mean eating more beans for a while, but that’s okay.”
“I’ll still be eating better than I did before I moved in here. Better let me buy the clothes and shoes.”
“Why’s that.”
“I know where I can get them cheap, but it’s in my old neighborhood. I’m afraid of what people might stir up if they see me with you.”
Jim agreed. When Jackson returned he was wearing new shoes and a new jacket. He was also carrying a bag of clothes. Jim could not believe how much the kid got with so little money.
“They’re not exactly cool, but they’re passable,” Jackson told him.
Time went by fast. It was nearly thanksgiving. The owner of the liquor store gave Jim a small raise. Jim celebrated by buying a six-pack of beer and a six-pack of soda for Jackson. These were luxuries they could not afford very often.
“I think it’s time for us to give something back,” Jim said.
“What do you mean?”
“Well, there are a lot of people who have it harder than we do. I volunteered us to help serve turkey dinners to the poor.”
Jackson smiled. “I was the one being served before.”
“You still will be, only this time you’re a paying customer. I donated twenty dollars, and they agreed to serve you a turkey dinner too.”
“What about you?”
“I’m covered.”
The place was packed with people seeking a free meal. The families there really saddened Jim. He could not help thinking this might be the only good meal some of them might have all year. He worked the serving line while Jackson worked in the kitchen. That is where Jackson also ate his dinner. There were very few empty seats in the hall, and he did not want to risk sitting next to someone who smelled stronger than the turkey did. He had already done that far too often during his young life.
They barely had enough food to feed everyone. Fortunately, there were enough scraps for Jim to make a turkey and stuffing sandwich for his dinner. As they prepared to leave, Jim noticed that Jackson was carrying a plastic sack.
“What do you have?”
“Bones. They said I could take them. Do you know how to make turkey soup?”
“I can figure it out.”
“No need. Momma taught me.”
Jim smiled. “So you’re an expert on cooking bones,” he teased.
“When bones are what you have you learn how to make the most of them.”
Jackson put the bones in the refrigerator when they got home. “I’ll start boiling them tomorrow night.”
“You know what I’m thankful for?”
“Turkey soup?”
“That’s one of the good things in life, but no. I’m thankful for you.”
For a brief moment, Jackson looked like he might cry. “You’re the father I always wanted.” He said it quietly, as if he was embarrassed about the emotion behind it.
They both stood there. Neither of them knew what else to say or do.
Jim finally raised his hand. “High five.”
“High five.” They slapped hands, and Jackson went into the bathroom to prepare for bed.
Jim took a beer out of the refrigerator. He took a sip and let the liquid sit in his mouth for minute to savor it before swallowing. It was his first and last beer of the night. His legs were tired from standing in the service line for so long. He sat on the sofa and leaned back. Rufus jumped into his lap and demanded his attention. Jim kissed him on the top of his head. “I can’t believe how much time I’ve spent wallowing in my misery,” Jim thought. “Now I have something resembling a family. Who knows, I might even find another wife.” It was a good thanksgiving.
First published in macsbackporch.blogspot.com on Nov. 24, 2009
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