Nicole Johnson

He stood in front of the door and sternly held the handle. The streets are awfully quiet tonight. Maybe I could slip away and no one would notice, he thought, scratching his face in further contemplation. Walking inside, his senses filled with the distinct smell of freshly lit cigarettes and stale potato chips. It felt familiar and almost calming. The bartender greeted him as he made a beeline for one of the empty stools in the back.

 “Hey Bob. I was beginning to wonder if I’d catch you tonight,” Charlie said while continuing to clean the countertop.

Charlie was the owner of the B-52 Bar and Lounge. He had it up and running since the mid-sixties. Dead Lover’s Lane and other popular bands from that era got their start there whenever they toured. The bar quickly became a staple in the music industry.

“Hey Charlie. Good to see ya,” he said solemnly. Bob’s face fell into his hands and released a putrid sigh.

Being in this place felt familiar, yet laced with tremors of uncertainty. Sitting at the furthest end of the l-shaped bar, he surveyed the room. Tonight was different from most nights. Normally he was that old guy who sat in the corner with his back propped against the wall, enjoying the presence of pretty girls dancing next to the juke box, while the young bucks failed miserably to impress them.

This place was usually packed with people. There was rarely a place to sit, except for this spot, which had been reserved just for him. Bob sat in that spot since the night of the bar’s opening. It even had a funny little imprint on the seat where Charlie had it initialed.

There was a night someone tried to sit there and Charlie shooed him away. Some guys just don’t get it, or are completely oblivious to signage.  

Bob came in every Monday and Thursday night and ordered his standard Old Fashioned, without the cherry, because sugared cherries had no place in a drink of this caliber.

 “What time is it?” Bob inquired.  

“After 2,” Charlie said.
            Bob’s brows lifted in surprise. “Oh, it’s late. Aren’t you closed?” He quickly rose and turned to exit.

“Easy does it, old timer!” Charlie exclaimed, setting down the glassware to converse with his friend. “You don’t have to leave. I’ve got some work to do, so no need to rush out of here. Besides, you look like you could use a drink.”

Bob pressed his face into his hands and motioned for Charlie to bring him something stronger. Bob became lost in thought, feeling things so intensely and in desperate need of an escape. His eyes looked up and saw their savior.

Bob’s taste buds salivated as he inched toward the glass for inspection. Its caramel tones glistened under the florescent lighting as he brought it to his lips. A hint of vanilla and a few other sweet tastes imprinted a warm, delicious trail of heat down his throat. For a moment, he forgot everything that had transpired.

Bob’s wife’s voice rang in the back of his head. Her voice elevated a few octaves as she shook him. He felt as though he were in a trance, a place somewhere between life and death. The shadows surrounding her reminded him of every scary movie he had ever seen about ghosts. One stood behind her, mockingly. Its face wasn’t really a face one forgets. It was half angel, half demon. Whatever it was, it was after him.

Ruby grew tired of waking him from his drunken nights and caring for a man who could care less about himself. She left him, poisoned the kids against him, and now even they hated him. Bob could tell how repulsed they were by him whenever they stopped by for weekly visits. Of course, they were too polite to tell him directly. He was quickly reminded every time he got a glance of himself in the mirror.  

Bob’s face ashen, hair unkept, with eyes blood shot from the sleep he rarely got to enjoy. He cringed to the poundings of the minions strong arming his nerve endings. Bob discovered today after years of ignoring the signs of being in poor health, he was, in fact, dying.  

He assumed that his lack of coordination stemmed from bad genes, but never factored in the idea of brain cancer. What else did he have left to live for? Sure, he could work himself to death or just end it all and everyone would be happier. He may end up happier too.

Bob took another sip from the glass, while his body slowly relaxed, and everything seemed to dissipate. He drank because it was the only thing that made him feel better and the only thing that made the headaches go away. The booze stroked his ego until he passed out. Some may say he had a problem, but for him it was a solution that made him realize that he couldn’t go about this alone. He needed his family, even if they didn’t need him.

Bob spent too many years being a prideful man, the man who pretended not to care. If being in the Army taught him anything at all, it was not to give up on your unit. His family was that unit and he would do everything in his power to make sure they were protected, even if it was from himself.

Based on the level on sunlight that shun through the blinds, there was a lapse in time unaccounted for. One moment Bob’s drinking with an old friend and the next he’s waking to a drool soak pillow case.

His head throbbed, lips chapped, and his tongue felt as though he had sucked on sandpaper all night. He slowly rose to check his phone. He had three missed calls from Ruby. She left him a voicemail. Even when pissed at him, she sounded beautiful.

“Bob, this is my third and final call. It has been two days since I’ve heard from you. I called Charlie and Gary, neither have seen or heard from you. I’m getting worried. Please call me to let me know you are alright or I will call the police to conduct a wellness check.”

Two days have passed?

She wasn’t wrong. Bob remembered the way his kids looked at him. It made him sick. Their view of him was diminishing by the day and he hated it. The queasiness in the pit of his stomach returned and he held his mouth while running toward the bathroom.

He clutched the toilet and yakked up the remains of last night’s binger, as well as the acids that broke down his meals. He couldn’t remember the last time he ate a full meal. The realization that his body hated him too made him want to pour the last of the whiskey he hid under the couch into another glass.

No, this isn’t the answer…

Bob called Dr. Gary Chavez. Gary has been his long-time doctor since he retired from the military. He was also a family friend. If he couldn’t tell him what was going on, then who could he tell? Luckily for him, Dr. Chavez had an opening that morning.

The room began to spin again and he needed to get to the clinic. It took ten minutes to get there on a good day.  Bob was beginning to feel ill again and didn’t quite trust his ability to drive, but couldn’t call Ruby to take him either. She would probably say no on principal. He needed to man up and do this on his own. Bob searched for his keys, and found them by the nightstand with a note underneath them.

Bob,

I am so disappointed in you. I was hoping to not receive any more calls from Charlie’s about one of your bingers. Boy, was I wrong. As always, I brought you home and helped you into bed. There is a glass of water with two aspirin by your bedside, take them. In the meantime, I will continue to stay at my sister’s until you get your act together. This is the last time I will do this for you.

xx Ruby

         Bob read the note and studied it hard as his fingers white-knuckled the paper, forcing it to crumble from the pressure. He was more determined than ever to get to the clinic and get back to being the man who Ruby used to depend on. He thrust the note into his pocket and rushed out of the house toward his car. Once there, he began to feel sick again.

Remembering what Gary told him about the queasiness, it was a symptom of his illness and if he wasn’t going to medicate, he needed to breathe in and out. Slowly. After a minute or two, he began to feel better and started the engine. On the drive to the clinic, all he could think about was how much he wanted to get his family back.

Bob was so distracted that he didn’t realize he had ran a red light and was moving into oncoming traffic.  A car that turned right honked their horn profusely as they tried to swerve around him, but ended up t-boning him instead where he passed out from the impact.

When he regained consciousness, the sound of machines beeping alarmed him. Someone squeezed his hand and he flinched.

“Welcome back, old friend,” said a familiar voice.

“Charlie?” Bob squeaked.

“Hey, I got a call from the police about your accident. They said they found my contact information in your wallet.”

“Good to see you when I wake up than Ruby. I don’t need her judging me right now.”

“Why? Were you drunk?”

Bob looked at him sharply. “Of course not!” Bob muttered. “I was on my way here when I got into an accident. Looks like I got the chauffer service this time,” he chuckled.

“Good to see you’ve got your old sense of humor back. I missed ya, buddy, but I do think you need to call your wife,” Charlie said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, I know. I just don’t know where to start…I’m not ready. Please don’t call her until I get what I came here for.”

“Alright, I can do that for you. Just don’t wait too long.”

Dr. Chavez entered the room. “Look who’s awake. You sure did a hell of a number on yourself today, huh?” He chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” Bob laughed. “Now lay it on me doc. What’s the damage?”

“Well, you have a broken collar bone, so you’ll have to wear that sling for a few months, and in a moment, I’ll run some more tests. Other than that, you didn’t sustain any further damage from the accident, though it may be too soon to tell.  On a side note, I do need to run some more test on what we discussed last time you were in—in private.” Gary remained cryptic and looked over at Charlie sharply, ushering him to leave.

“Oh! Yeah, I’ll let you catch up with the doc, Bob. I’ll check on you later,” Charlie said as he scurried out of the room.

“Now that we have some privacy. Tell me more about this accident. Did you have another episode?” said Garry, appearing concerned for his friend.

Bob told him about his nausea and migraines, which have caused more frequent drunken bingers. On top of all of that, Ruby left him, the kids mirrored her disappointment. Gary furrowed his brows, but other than that remained silent.

“She still doesn’t know? Bob, you and Ruby have been married over 30 years. She deserves to know.”

“I know,” he said sullenly. “I’ve thought about telling her, but every time I try, I stop.   I don’t want her to look at me like some sickly.” 

“I understand, but this is something out of your control and would make this next transition much easier.”

“Doc, I told ya last time we spoke. I’m not doing chemo. I’ve lived a long life. I’m ready to go wherever the good lord wants. The kids are grown and Ruby has them to rely on. She doesn’t need to know that not only do I have cancer, but I’m a drunk with a broken collar bone.”

“That is the most cowardly thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Gary said angrily. “You have a wife and kids who need you. Who rely on you. You’re just going to give up all because life got hard?”   

Bob looked away bashfully. “I’m sorry,” he said solemnly. “I know I’m acting like a jack ass. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Dr. Chavez’s face softened. “Bob, it’s ok to admit that you’re scared. Men aren’t immune to fear.”

Bob nodded. “I think I’m ready to call Ruby. Will you be here while I tell her?”

Gary smiled. “I can even tell her if that makes you feel better.”

Bob sighed. “Okay.”

A couple of hours passed and Ruby stormed into his hospital room like wild dog. Her face contorted when she saw him laying in bed, strapped to all of the machines. Bob’s skin had lost all color and a reddish-purple hue had taken residence underneath his eyes.

“Darling, I was so worried! Are you going to be alright?” She ran to him and embraced him tightly. Bob winced in pain. “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” she cried.

Bob tried to delay the impending conversation a little longer with a welcomed distraction of discussing their kids. Jack graduated with a Masters in Communications, while Molly recently married her high school sweetheart. His children were doing well for themselves, which made him feel better about his decision to not seek treatment.

Gary and one of the rotation nurses arrived to examine Bob’s vitals and answer any questions Ruby had. The look on her face when the words brain cancer slithered past Gary’s lips were heart wrenching. Her eyes filled with unshed tears as she fought back the urge to cry.

“How long have you known?” she managed to say.

“A couple of weeks,” Bob said.

Ruby looked over at Gary. “The excessive drinking, blackouts, queasiness—all of this is due to the cancer, right Gary?”

“Bob tried to self-medicate, but yes that is correct,” Gary confirmed.  

“You knew for weeks and never said a word to me.” Ruby’s voice cracked as she spoke. The tears began to spill, creating mascara stained cheeks. “Thirty years, Bob. You couldn’t even trust me— ”

“I couldn’t trust myself! I am ashamed for not telling you sooner. All of the time I lost with you and the kids kills me. At the time, I thought it would have been better to do this alone.  Boy, was I wrong, Ruby!” He cried as his hands covered his face.

Ruby stared into the silence for several more moments before comforting her husband. She slowly reached for his hand, holding it between hers and placed a soft kiss on his palm.  “Bob, you are far from weak. You are the strongest man I know. We are going to get through this together, as a family.”  

Tears welled in Ruby’s eyes as she watched how her husband chose to spend his last days. She didn’t like how he spoke so solemnly, nor did she like the idea of living without him. It caused her to think a little too hard about what that would mean for her and the kids.  Prior to Bob’s sickness, he had this light about him that everyone gravitated toward.

The next several months were hard. Everyone pretended to not notice how weak Bob became. Bob’s body looked frailer, eyes and cheeks gaunt. He took frequent naps due to the lack of energy, until one day he couldn’t get out of bed. The weaker he became, the less the kids wanted to be around, often making excuses for why they couldn’t visit.

Bob lay there for days. Ruby placed a bell by his bedside where he could ring it whenever he needed to get up to shower or use the rest room, until one day it didn’t ring. Ruby knew the worst had happened, but was afraid to check on him for fear of what she’d see. She didn’t want to see him like that, so Gary offered to go in her place. Gary was in the room for several minutes before he came out. His eyes puffy from freshly shed tears and refused to make eye contact with her.  

“Bob’s gone, Ruby,” he whispered.

“I know,” is all she could say.