Mississippi Nights

by D. M. Webb

  The ducks paddled by again, and David raised the bottle to them. “Hey, duckies. Here’s to us.”

  The bottle reached his lips one more time, and David took a longer drink from it, reveling in the burn that coursed down his throat. Burning was better than feeling empty.

  : : : : :

  Maggie pulled her truck into the driveway and turned off the motor. She grabbed her bag and hopped out. If David didn’t want to answer his phone, then she would come early. He probably fell asleep again, but he had promised her a day at the pool, and she came to collect. She checked her watch. It was only two o’clock; surely he would be up by now.

  Fat Tom was stretched out on the steps, and Maggie hopped over him.

  “You’re so lazy, pretty boy.” He rolled over and answered her with a meow.

  She bent down and ruffled his belly fur. He purred and licked her hand. With a laugh, she stood. She raised the clown door knocker. It fell with a bang. She waited a few seconds and did it again. Still no answer.

  “Think he is still asleep, Fat Tom?” She tried the door. It was unlocked. She pushed it opened. Silence greeted her. “Hello?”

  Her voice echoed back to her. Hmm. She ventured in and closed the door behind her. “Hello? David?”

  She climbed the stairs, glancing at the pictures as she went. One of the pictures showed David and Jeremy hanging from a tree branch. They appeared to be yelling, while Darlene stood under them with a water hose. It was one of those rare captive moments in life where the camera caught the love and laughter and froze it in time. She smiled. David was a cute child.

  She saw more portraits. Graduation from high school. One of Jeremy graduating the police academy. Another of David graduating the state fire academy. She paused over that one, taking in the sternness of his face. Hopeful, daring, and so young, wearing his turnouts. Her finger slid over the photo and stopped at his eyes. There was a dreamer’s look in him. A look that was now missing.

  Maggie sighed and turned away. She’d bring that dreamer’s look back to him. She searched the rooms and found his bedroom empty, the bed covers disheveled, and clothes strewn about the floor. Typical.

  She bounded down the stairs and into the kitchen. David’s phone was on the bar. She picked it up. Three missed calls from her, plus her four text messages. Maybe he was at the pond and lost track of time. Fishing did that to him. She dropped her bag on the bar.

  The patio door easily slid open under her hand, and she stepped out. Fat Tom had made his way to the back and now waited for her.

  “Do you know where he is, Tom?” Like a cat would know. Cats weren’t like dogs, but Fat Tom held his tail in the air and trotted toward the pond. Maggie followed. Her steps faltered when she stepped past the hedgerow.

  David laid in the chaise lounge, hand hung to the side, and a bottle on the ground.

  “Oh, David.”

  His legs hung off the sides, his shirt bared his chest, and his head was on his shoulder. The sun beat down upon him, his face and chest already reddened from its rays. She shook him, but he wouldn’t rouse.

  “David?” She cupped his face in her hands. “David? Wake up, sweetie.”

  Even in his sleep, his brow furrowed as if he was having an argument or had heavy thoughts on his mind. She leaned closer. The sweet alcohol smell hung heavy on his breath. Did he drink the whole bottle? She let go of him and picked up the bottle of Rum 151. Only a few drops remained.

  Maggie sunk to her knees beside him. How could he be so stupid? He was doing so well, why now? No point to wondering about that. Her father’s words entered her head: “Addiction is hard. It’s a tough battle to fight.”

  She sighed. “What’s done is done, love.”

  The passed out man snored in response.

  She stood, leaned down, and kissed his forehead. He needed to be inside and out of the sun. She grabbed her phone to call Dean, but then she paused. She couldn’t do this to David. It would shame him to no end. Maggie bit her lip. Her dad? No. Not yet.

  She glanced around, thinking. David shifted slightly. A small snore came from him.

  She brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. Her sweet David. Bound in chains that she would never be able to understand. She traveled a slippery slope with him, but she wouldn’t abandon him. Maggie tipped her head back and breathed deep. How bad would it get before it was over? How far would he fall before he would be able to stand again?

  She knew then who to call and dialed her phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Sarah. I need to talk to Jeremy.” Maggie reached over and pulled David’s shirt closed. The less sun beating down on his red chest the better.

  “He’s asleep. Is it important?”

  “Yeah. I need his help with David.”

  She heard Sarah’s sigh on the other end. “I won’t even ask. Let me wake him. Hold on.”

  Maggie waited. The sun beat down on her back, and she craved a cold can of cola. If she craved her soda this much, how big was David’s craving for alcohol? It must be a demon of unfathomable depths.

  “Maggie?” Jeremy’s voice sounded hoarse with sleep. “What’s going on?”

  “I came to get David to go to the pool. I found him at the pond, passed out. I can’t move him, Jeremy. But we’ve got to get him indoors before you have a lobster for a brother.”

  Jeremy’s sigh was heavy. He sounded exhausted from last night’s shift, and now this. “How much? Do you know?”

  Maggie picked up the bottle. The glass reflected the sun’s heavy rays. “A whole bottle of Rum 151.”

  “Oh, help the idiot.” She imagined Jeremy pinching the bridge of his nose. “He’s lucky to be in nothing but a sleep. Are you sure it was the whole bottle?”

  “No. It was on the ground when I got here. I guess it could have spilled out. But he drank enough to put himself in a coma.”

  “Fine. I’ll be there in about ten.”

  “Should I call your dad?”

  “No. Let me handle it.” A click came across the line, and Maggie closed her phone.

  She needed to call one more person. She dialed again. The voice of experience and love answered. “Hello?”

  “Dad?”

  “Maggie, what’s up? I thought you were going to the pool this afternoon with David.”

  “That was the plan.”

  “What happened?”

  She looked over at him. His face should have been soft with sleep. “I came over, but David fell again.”

  “How bad?”

  “Pretty bad. Rum 151. I don’t know if he drank the whole bottle or not, but he’s passed out on a chaise lounge at the pond. I’m staying with him. Jeremy’s coming over to help. Dean and Leigh are at Darlene’s. I was wondering . . .”

  “Go on, love.” Her father. She could always depend on him.

  “David’s gonna need a lot of help. He was doing so well this last week, but, Daddy, he’s fighting against devils that I can’t understand.” Her voice broke. Until now she had been strong, but now it crashed down on her.

  Her father was silent for a second. “When he wakes, bring him here.”

  She passed a hand under her nose. “You know he’s going to feel shame and guilt when he wakes up. He needs our help.”

  “Easy, sweetheart. Hush. I’ll be ready. We will all help him. Okay? I’ll call Miss Phyllis–”

  “Don’t tell her!”

  “Maggie, I will just say he needs everyone’s prayers because he is going through a rough spot. It will help to have the prayer chain started.”

  “Thank you, Daddy.” She wiped the tears off her cheeks.

  “You’re welcome, sweetie. David is a fine man. And everyone loves him.” She heard a rustle at his end and pictured him with his opened Bible. “Just let me know when.”

  “Okay. I love you.”

  “Love you too, Maggie.”

  She closed her phone and turned to look at the man who had claimed her heart. He still slept, his mouth agape and soft snores
escaping. She sighed and waited for his brother to arrive.

  : : : : :

  Jeremy slammed the truck into park and hopped out. His feet skidded across the gravel. Even with sunglasses on, the sun pierced his eyes. Anger boiled within him. Again his brother had the audacity to up the ante, and this time Maggie got to see the extent of his fall. His stupid, idiotic, selfish brother.

  He stomped around the house, absently giving Fat Tom a greeting. His feet, fueled by anger, hit the grass in heavy steps. Leave it to David to destroy his sleep. A yawn escaped him as he passed by the hedgerow.

  Maggie was sitting on the chaise lounge beside his brother. Her knee bounced in nervous energy. She leapt to her feet and ran to him.

  “Jeremy!” Her arms pulled him into a quick hug. Then she was pulling him down to the bank. “Thank goodness you’re finally here. We’ve got to get him into the house.”

  “I know.” Jeremy paused at the chaise lounge and gazed down at David. She was right. His brother was slowly de-evolving into a lobster. Part of him wanted to leave David out here in the sun, let him become a mass of sun blisters. Jeremy sighed. Apparently, this was part of the job description of being his brother’s keeper. He squatted and took David’s arms. With a quick roll, he had David on his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. Sheesh, he was heavy.

  Maggie hurried ahead of him, and Jeremy grunted as he started toward the house. David’s weight made it difficult to climb the slight rise to the backyard that now seemed an endless green–a scene from the proverbial nightmare. Jeremy snorted. He had his nightmare on his back.

  “Maggie, get the door.”

  He slid past her through the opened patio doors and into the cool interior of the home.

  “On the couch?”

  “No. Just help me up the steps, and we’ll put him on his bed.” Jeremy turned to the stairs. “Keep your hands on him to keep him from falling off me.”

  With Maggie’s hands supporting David, Jeremy lumbered up the stairs and prayed a quick thanks that David’s room was the first one on the right. Maggie reached past him and pushed open the door. Jeremy sneered at the messy room. How fitting. He turned and, with no finesse, dumped his brother on the bed and then sighed in relief. David’s body bounced a little as it hit the rumpled covers.

  Maggie slipped a pillow under David’s head, pulled his arms up onto the mattress, and straightened his legs. “Did you have to be so rough putting him in bed?”

  “Relax. He didn’t feel it.” Jeremy pushed aside David’s legs and sat on the edge, flexing his shoulders. “Besides, your boyfriend there was heavy. Better on the bed than the floor.”

  Maggie pushed aside David’s shirt. “Could you remove his shirt while I go downstairs? I have some aloe vera I can put on his sunburn.”

  Jeremy rolled his eyes. His brother drank himself into a stupor, and now he gets pampered. Just absolutely great. “Sure.”

  She disappeared from the room, and Jeremy turned back to his brother. David still snored gently. Anger burst forth. Jeremy fought the urge to smack his brother in the head and to close his fist around that red throat. He clenched his fists and hung his head. “Oh, Lord, quiet my anger.”

  He would not be a “Cain” to his brother, no matter how much David ticked him off.

  Jeremy laid a shaky hand on David’s head, feeling the heat of his sunburned face. “Lord, be with my brother. Help me to help him. I don’t know the anguish he feels or the temptation of alcohol that drives him, but let him know, dear Lord, that I am with him. Let him see that I and the rest of the family still love him. In your holy name, dear Jesus, amen.”

  : : : : :

  Maggie stood at the doorway to David’s room. Jeremy had finished his prayer and was removing David’s shirt. She leaned her head against the doorjamb and offered a quick and silent prayer of her own for the brothers. Like two circling rams, they kept butting heads.

  She cleared her throat as she entered the room. Jeremy looked up. Dried streaks stained his cheeks. “I got the stuff. Let’s get it on him.”

  Jeremy shook his head, his face impassive. “You do it. I’ll be downstairs.” He yawned and cast a last look at his brother before leaving the room.

  Maggie eased herself down on the bed. David had shifted slightly. She scooted up, finding a more comfortable position. Upending the bottle of aloe vera, she squeezed a small glob out and dabbed a little along his cheeks, nose, and forehead. He didn’t move or flinch in his drunken sleep.

  She squeezed some more out of the bottle, and with her hands full of the goo, she smeared it across his reddened chest. The small triangle of light colored hair on his chest tickled her fingers. Maggie took another glob of gel and smoothed it down his stomach, careful not to rub too hard. She smiled.

  Maybe if he were ten years younger, his stomach would be sporting a six pack, but weeks of his mother’s cooking had added some padding to that hard abdomen. Around his navel, a diamond patch of hair covered that flaming sun tattoo. Maggie traced it with her fingernail. Just like him, blazing and wild.

  Snap out of it. She shook her head and leaned down to kiss his temple. “Yeah, too bad you’re asleep and out of it. I’m playing doctor with you.” With a quick peck to his face, Maggie rose off the bed and placed the bottle on the nightstand. She wiped her hands on her shirt. Ugh. Sticky stuff.

  Maggie eased downstairs and peeked into the living room. Jeremy sprawled along the couch, pillow over his face, snoring. She blew out her breath. In a house with two sound-asleep brothers. She shrugged and grabbed a cold can of cola from the refrigerator and her book from her bag that she had left on the bar.

  She reentered David’s room, found him exactly as she left him, and settled down in the easy chair by the window. So much for her pool day. With a sigh, she opened her Nicholas Sparks book.

  : : : : :

  Some giant monster banged against his brain worse than ever before. He groaned and rolled over, catching himself before he hit the floor. Another groan escaped him. Khaki walls greeted him. What? Confusion hit him, not to mention another wave of sickness.

  He pushed himself to a sitting position, and his stomach clenched. When did he come to the house? Where the heck was his shirt? The world spun when he stood, and everything went hazy. Again his stomach clenched, and it rose with a vengeance.

  He stumbled out of his room and across the hall to the bathroom. David fell to his knees. Vile liquid spewed into the bowl. His stomach heaved again. Tears blurred his vision, and spittle hung from his mouth. Why did he do this to himself? He lowered his head to his clasped hands. Why did he fail himself?

  He gasped when the towel touched his face. David jerked around and found his angel kneeling on the bathroom floor with him.

  “It’ll be okay, David.”

  “Wha–”

  “Shh.”

  His stomach heaved. Again he hung his head over the toilet. More, and hopefully the last, of his stomach’s contents left his body. His arms shook. His body trembled. He fumbled for the handle, and the sound of the flushing water flooded his head with needle sharp pain.

  The cold towel touched his face again and wiped at his mouth and eyes. His strength gave out. He collapsed to the floor, curling around his aching stomach.

  Maggie’s hands pulled at him. He crawled forward a bit. His head found her lap, and there he lay. Spent, defiled, and once again broken. Too weak for tears. Too weary for lies. Too sick to face his sin.

  His angel stroked his face and neck with a cold cloth, caressed his quivering body with a soft hand. She made no comment, made no move other than keeping the cloth on his face and neck, brushing his hair back, or caressing his shoulders.

  Time passed. Finally, David’s stomach stopped clenching into hard knots.

  “Is he through?”

  David shut his eyes against his brother’s voice.

  “Yeah. Think so.”

  “Here. Have him drink this.”

  He felt water droplets hit him on the neck and turned hi
s aching head. The bottle glistened in the bathroom’s light. Who turned on the lights? Water drew tiny rivulets along the label. This was a thirst that was not a sin. Maggie passed the bottled water over his head and placed it into his hand.

  “Let’s try sitting up, okay?”

  Her small hands pushed at him. David managed to sit himself upright, knees up and arms propped on them. He hung his head between them, the blood pounding and whooshing in his ears. Another wave of nausea plowed into him.

  “Don’t give in. Slow breaths.” Maggie pressed herself against his bare back, cradling him, holding him. “That’s it. Slow. Deep. Out.”

  He listened to her voice. Slow. Deep. Out. The wave of sickness passed, and he raised his head.

  The top to the bottle proved difficult, but he got it off and took a small sip. He swished the water around, turned his head and spat it out into the toilet. Her hands reached around his chest and held him. He felt her cheek against his shoulder blades as he took another small sip. It soothed his parched throat.

  “How long was I out?” His voice rasped and grated. He took another sip to smooth it over.

  “Long enough to burn. Jeremy brought you inside.” Her voice was soft, hesitant.

  Shame ate him. Guilt that she had to see him like this. He didn’t want to look at her, see her disappointment. Know her disgust with him. How could she not be disgusted with him? He disgusted himself. Muscles bunched in his shoulders and arms. Anger rose. He was a complete failure.

  “Shh.” Maggie’s voice cooed at him. “Stop thinking, love. Calm down.”

  She leaned against him, her arms holding him tight, her head pressed to the side of his.

  “It’ll be okay. One fall. That’s all it was.”

  His chin trembled. “I failed. I always will.” He gritted his teeth. Let the anger stay. It was better. Let him wallow in his failure.

  “Calm down, love.” Her hand left his chest and stroked his temple, brushing his hair away. “Calm down. I’m here for you.”