CHAPTER IV
Because of sad memories from the continuous sight of the hospital across the street, Dave decided to move to another part of town. He secured an apartment from a middle-aged couple by the name of Halloway. Though they accommodated him in many ways, he found Mrs. Halloway to be quite a trial to him because of her gift of gab. He could not stand her incessant talk, so he shunned her all he could.
After a few more weeks of recuperation, Dave was able to work. He soon found a job, but his heart was not in his work. His employer, having heard of Dave's tragic accident and being an understanding man, was patient with Dave, though it made little difference to Dave whether he worked or not. He knew his boss would have been justified in firing him, for he was late many times or simply failed to report to work at all. But in spite of his indifference, Mr. Perry kept him in his employ.
The long, dreary days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, and though Dave had invariably refrained from thinking about Christmas, he was forced to accept the fact that it was once more drawing near. Time and again, he angrily snapped off the radio as he caught the first strains of a Christmas carol. But his hostility did not change the inevitability of Christmas and, upon awakening one morning, it dawned upon him that it was Christmas Eve. With a feeling of deep depression, he got out of bed, reluctantly dressed for work, drank a cup of coffee and left. His melancholy condition permeated the atmosphere about him as he half-heartedly worked on the job. His boss, sensing his trouble, called him aside.
"You can knock off at noon today, Son," his voice was sympathetic. "Here's a ten dollar bill. Go some place and enjoy yourself."
"Thanks," Dave grunted.
"Merry Christmas, Dave."
"Merry indeed!" Dave retorted and picked up his lunch pail and left.
Having no desire to return to his lonely apartment, Dave parked his car at Fifth and Chester and with his hands deep in the pockets of his overcoat, he started walking the streets. He felt like stopping his ears as he passed a cheery group singing Christmas carols. The overwhelming memories of a year ago seemed unbearable. He turned and walked hurriedly down a side street - anywhere to get away from all the Christmas gaiety. He passed a blind man guided by a seeing-eye dog. The man was playing an accordion and singing. Dave reached into his pocket and handed him a coin. "Thank you and Merry Christmas!" the man said. Dave did not answer but hurried on. A newspaper boy stood on the next corner calling out, "Paper, paper, who wants an evening paper?" Again Dave reached for a coin and purchased a paper. Seeing a bench at a bus stop, he sat down to read, The headlines read, "Head-on collision kills two." The article told the sad story of a young mother and son being instantly killed leaving the grief-stricken father to face Christmas alone. Dave crumpled the newspaper and threw it in the garbage can. Everything he saw or heard brought back sad memories. He felt he had to have relief or crack up. Noticing a sign "Joe's Bar" in neon lights a block away, he headed in that direction. Hesitating at the door, he heard loud voices and music inside which caused a peculiar sensation within him. Though Dave had never been inside a bar before, tonight, he felt he had to have something to blot out the memories that were crushing the life out of him. He pushed open the door, entered the dimly lit room, and sat on the stool at the counter.
"Whataya have?" the bartender asked .
“Anything. Just anything strong enough to help me forget." Dave answered.
"You, too, huh? Whatsa matta? Your gal friend left ya?”
"Just fix the drink and leave off the conversation if you want my business." Dave's face was flushed with anger.
"Yes, Sir."
The drink tasted terrible and burned Dave's throat and stomach as it went down, but if it would erase bitter memories, it would accomplish the purpose for which Dave intended it.
"Give me another," he ordered upon finishing the first. He was beginning to feel peculiar and his voice was getting louder. As he reached for the remainder of the ten dollars which Mr. Perry had so kindly given him, he noticed the dim lights in the bar seemed hazy, and the things about him seemed to be spinning.
"Fix me another drink." Dave's tongue felt thick. "Make it good and strong." His head was dizzy and he felt someone take hold of his arm as he sank into oblivion.
The morning light beamed through the bars on the window. Dave blinked. Where was he? Oh-h, how his head ached.
"Hey, you over there! Where am I?" he yelled.
"You're in jail, Bud," was the reply.
"What am I doing here? I can't seem to remember what happened since last night shortly after I went into the ... " He could not make himself say the word but hung his head in shame.
"I know you can't, Bud. Most of 'em are that way. We found you sitting on the curb bawling your heart out over somebody you called 'Carol,' so we brought you here to sober up. But since today is Christmas, you can go home to your Carol. Come on; you're free. Merry Christmas!"
Dave felt sick. "Which way is Chester Street? I left my car at Fifth and Chester."
"Come on, Bud, I'll run you to your car. Won't hurt a fella to do a good turn on Christmas."
As they left the jail, the guard spoke again, "You were really soaked last night. If you drunks could see yourselves, maybe you'd cut out some of this foolishness." He threw back his head and laughed loudly. "You wouldn't believe how comical some of you are."
"It was my first time," Dave answered shamefully.
"Yup, that's what they all say, my first time." He laughed again. "Well, here we are at Fifth and Chester. Merry Christmas, Bud."
"Thanks, Mister," Dave mumbled as he opened the car door and got out. Fumbling in his pocket for his keys, he unlocked his car and got in.
Back in his apartment, he had just settled down to try to ease his aching head when he heard a knock at his door.
"Just a minute," he called. Who could be calling on him? He never had visitors.
"Good morning, Dave. I fixed a good dinner for you. Today is Christmas and I've got turkey and all the trimmings." It was his landlady.
"Thanks, Mrs. Halloway. I appreciate your kindness."
"I know you get tired of your own cooking so I took great delight in preparing this for you."
"Thanks again, Mrs. Halloway." He wished she would leave as his head felt as if it would burst. He did not care to listen to her gab.
"I've spent many lonely hours by myself when Mr. Halloway worked out of town and I know what a lonely life can be,” she continued her conversation. "Of course, now that he's retired, I never get lonely anymore. I wish sometimes he would get out from under my feet." She threw back her head and laughed loud and long. Dave wondered what was so funny. "Why, I can't hardly get my work done sometimes because he's always in my way. You know how it goes, I have to have his meals on time besides trying to keep up all my housework. Why, it's washing one day, ironing the next, housecleaning all through the week. Besides that I have my mending, grocery shopping, and other odds and ends. Then I get so many phone calls. You know how some people like to talk. I tell you I really keep up with all that goes on." She laughed again. Dave felt he could not stand to hear her voice another second. He detested her gab.
"Say, did you hear about Jimmie Freller and his old lady?" Her eyes sparkled as she prepared to give out a sweet morsel of gossip.
"No, Mrs. Halloway, and I really don't care to hear about them. Thanks again for the meal." He started to close door.
"Oh, you're quite welcome, Dave. I was just thinking today. 'Now Dave needs somebody to fix him a good meal because today is Christmas,' so I. ... "
“So you fixed it," he interrupted. "Thanks and good day." He closed the door in her face and turned the lock. He knew he was being rude, but he had stood it as long as he could.
"Food!" he spat out the word. "Who wants food?"
His hangover lasted several days. Thinking medication would help, he dropped by the drug store to purchase something. While standing at the counter waiting for service, he hea
rd a familiar voice.
"Why if it isn't Dave Maddox. Hello, Dave, how are you?"
"Miss Taylor!" Dave's mouth gaped open in surprise. "My, it's good to see you again. How have you been?"
"Fine, Dave, and you?"
"Just existing, Miss Taylor. Life has no meaning for me," he answered sadly.
"You shouldn't talk like that, Dave. Life has much to offer you. Here, take this little Testament. If you will read it and open your heart to its truths, it can be a great help to you."
"No thanks, Miss. I hardly ever read, so no use taking it."
"Please, Dave. The Word of God can be such a help to you if you'll only let it." She held it out to him. He could not resist the pleading in her voice and her sincerity in desiring to help him.
"Okay. If it will make you feel better, I'll take it."
"Will you promise to read it?"
"No, I won't promise you that."
"Can I help you, Sir?" It was the clerk.
"I'll see you later, Dave," Miss Taylor told him and turned to go.
"Wait a minute, I want to ask you something," he called after her as he paid for his medicine.
She waited outside the door.
"Where do you live, Miss Taylor?" Dave asked as he caught up with her.
"Please don't call me Miss Taylor any longer. My friends call me Jennie, short for Jennifer. Do you mind calling me that?"
"Suits me, Jennie, but you didn't answer my question."
"Oh! I live about three blocks from here at Ninth and Chester."
"You don't say! It's a small world after all. I pass your house every day going to and from work. Strange, I've never seen you."
"I'm probably asleep in the mornings when you pass and at work in the afternoons. This just happened to be my day off so I walked down for a coke."
"Come on, I'll drive you home."
"Thanks, Dave, but I'll walk. I need the exercise. Nice seeing you again."
"Same to you, Miss--uh--Jennie."
They both laughed. It was the first time Dave had felt like laughing for many months.
Back home, he pulled off his overcoat and threw it across the back of a chair. Something fell to the floor. "The book," he said and picked it up and opened it. He found many passages underlined and one in particular caught his eye. "This is a faithful saying, and worthy of all acceptation, that Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners of whom I am chief."
His heart beat faster as he turned the pages. "Come unto me all ye that labour and are heavy laden and I will give you rest," he read. In Romans he read, "For I reckon that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us."
He closed the little Testament and quickly pulled open a drawer and stuck it far back into a corner.
"Reading this gives me a strange feeling," he said to himself. "I don't care to read it any more."
A few blocks away someone was praying, "Lord, open his eyes to see the truth of Thy word and save his soul from hell.”
Dave intended to sleep until noon on Sunday, as usual, but he awakened early and could do nothing but toss and turn so he got out of bed and dressed. After a cup of coffee and a piece of toast, he decided to drive around town. Passing Joe's Bar, he started to go in but decided against it as he recalled what had happened the last time he was there. Church bells were ringing here and there calling together the morning worshipers. Dave could never remember going to church. His mother had died when he was eight years of age, and his father had remarried a year later. As he and his stepmother could never get along, Dave had left home at an early age. Luckily, he had found a good job with a good paying salary; therefore, he had always managed on his own. He could have made Carol a good living, but there was no use thinking of that now. Such thoughts always brought a fresh stab of pain to his heart, yet try as he would, he could not rid himself of them. Carol, his beloved Carol! He just had to forget.
He turned his car around and headed back for Joe's Bar. What if they did put him in jail? What difference did it make? These torturing thoughts would drive him out of his mind.
"Something good and strong," he ordered as he sat down at the bar. "No, wait a minute." He had an after-thought. "You got something in a bottle?" He would go to his apartment before he started drinking. It might prevent an overnight stay in jail.
Dave was unable to go to work on Monday. It was his head again. He knew he should leave the stuff alone, but it helped him to forget, temporarily, so more and more frequently, he returned to Joe's Bar. He became thinner and pale and his hands trembled as he worked.
"Dave," his boss approached him one day. "Why don't you pull yourself together? Your wife is gone and you're grieving yourself to death won't bring her back. Why don't you brace up like a man and start your life anew? I'd like to take you fishing with me some day. It's a great relaxation to me, and I believe it would help you."
"No thanks, Mr. Perry. I never was one to fish or anything else along that line."
"But, Dave, you need to get hold of yourself. I've tried to be patient because I know how you're suffering, but you're just not doing satisfactory work. You've been reporting out a day or two a week and have even come on the job drinking. I don't want to have to fire you, Son. I'd like to help you because I, too, have lost a companion and I know what you're going through."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Perry. I'll try to do better for I need my work. I didn't know that you had lost a companion."
"Yes, Dave, my first wife died in childbirth, our first child, and I thought it would kill me. That's why I've been so lenient with you. Otherwise I wouldn't have let you stay as long as I have. But, Son, I hope you'll listen to an old man's advice and leave the bottle alone. It only blots out the memories temporarily, and then you have to face reality again." He scratched his head and clicked his teeth together as he talked .
"I know you're right, Mr. Perry, but sometimes I feel that if I don't get relief, I'll die."
"Get out and do something to take your mind off her. Go bowling, fishing, swimming, anything but to the bar."
Somehow Dave did not resent this kindly man's advice for he had been like a father to him. Whether he would heed his admonition or not, remained to be seen.