by Peter Murphy
The man with the deep and commanding voice muttered again and left.
John tried to rise again. He could not be a burden to them. He could not have them at risk for his sake, but the woman was ready and gently pushed him back. “No, Father. You must rest until your strength comes back.”
*
Miriam watched in disbelief. The world was going to war again and there was nothing anybody could do to stop it. The media had whipped them all into a righteous rage with images of premature babies thrown on the floor and gloating soldiers praising their God. CNN was outraged.
Karl had been on the phone all morning but there was still no news. John Melchor had vanished from the face of the earth.
She knew he wanted to say something, something that might offer a little reassurance. She loved and hated him for that. She loved that he cared so much but despised what she must look like to him—frightened and alone in a world that paid lip service to all that she held dear. She did not want pity. She wanted outrage. She wanted everyone to stand up and scream, all at the same time, so the masters of lies would have to pay attention.
But everyone around her was mesmerized by robotic generals showing video clips of pure, clean death, the vengeance of the righteous that only fell on the heads of the despicable. It was all too good to be true.
Miriam knew better. War did not differentiate between innocence and guilt. War was a hungry beast that, when loosed, devoured all that lay before it. There was nothing right about it and all who involved themselves were complicit in murder. In a way, she hoped John had left this world so he would not have to see this again.
“We mustn’t give up hope,” Karl reminded her, looking at her like he thought she might break.
“No, we mustn’t,” she agreed, but her soul was empty. Before, when they were actively opposing war, it had seemed so easy. They had ‘right’ on their side and nothing could threaten them. Sure, they could be arrested and incarcerated, but when the people found out, they demanded their release.
Now, things had changed. The people were bored with what was right. It was too hard—too demanding, so they turned away for reassurance. They believed it when they were told that they lived in the greatest democracy the world had ever seen. Appointed by God and secure in that righteousness, there was no reason for them to question, even those they knew to be dishonest.
“You know,” he said the way he said those things that he carefully chose to lift her when she was down, “I was thinking of visiting Canada one of these days.”
“Will they let you in?”
“I’m not sure; that’s why I want you to come along.”
“I see. And where were you thinking of going?”
“Toronto. I hear it’s very nice this time of the year.”
“It’s winter.”
“Okay. We can wait ’til the spring.”
Miriam smiled and melted into his warm embrace. She knew what he was doing and she loved him all the more for it.
*
Deirdre was really looking forward to their visit. She needed reinforcing. Danny had gotten drunk again, in February, after nearly seven weeks of abstaining. She saw it coming.
At first, he was enthusiastic and had even joined a gym. But as the winter wore him down, he stopped going and sat in front of the TV, night after night. She tried to go along as if nothing was wrong. She took Martin to hockey and Grainne to ballet, leaving Danny alone. She could tell they were all getting on his nerves, but for the most part he kept it bottled up inside of him.
Except when the kids fought. Then all that simmered inside of him would bubble to the surface. Deep down, he was angry at so many things—things that were not directly related to them.
She was getting very tired of him. Life, that was so grey and forlorn to Danny, had actually treated them quite well but he just seemed incapable of seeing it that way. They had used most of the money from Jerry and Jacinta to pay down the mortgage. They had postponed the trip down south so they could send Martin to hockey camp. His coach was sure that, with the proper preparation, Martin could have a future in the game.
Deirdre wasn’t so sure, but Martin, being the true Canadian he was, had his heart set on it. In return, to appease her, he kept his grades up and was a model child—except in his father’s eyes. Sometimes Deirdre wondered if Danny wasn’t jealous of him.
Grainne was a different story. She was only five but was showing signs of becoming very precocious. Deirdre hated admitting it but she was. And even at her age, Grainne seemed to be able to see the fault lines that ran through the family. She could make any squabble with her brother into a family issue. She had Danny wrapped around her little fingers and he could not see it.
Instead, when they did talk about it, he accused her of always siding with Martin. She tried to explain but he wouldn’t hear it. In fact, they agreed on less and less.
She was tempted to let it slide. She was busy enough at work and, when she finally got home, drained and worn down, she had little energy for family politics. But she had to deal with his drinking.
**
“What can I say?” he had muttered the morning after as he waited for the coffee to brew. He looked terrible.
“An explanation maybe?”
“Ah, Dee. Cut me some slack. I just had a few beers, that’s all. Where’s the harm in that?”
It might have sounded reasonable from somebody else. “Danny. We have discussed this and we both agreed that drinking has become a problem for you. You promised that you would deal with it—for all our sakes.”
“I know and I was. I just had a few beers. It’s not the end of the world.”
“Well, I’m not willing to wait until the end begins. I want you to get help.”
“I don’t need help.”
“That’s what people with problems always say.” Deirdre had done her homework. One of the women in the office had been married to an alcoholic. She made a point of letting Deirdre know that after the last office party, when Danny had gotten so drunk that they had to leave early. She told Deirdre what she had been through and even invited her to an Al-Anon meeting. Deirdre went, for Danny’s sake, and heard all that she needed to hear.
“You can’t be serious?”
“I have never been more serious.”
The people at the meeting had said that the best time to tackle the problem was during the hangover. That was when guilt and remorse bubbled just under the surface. He sat opposite her and sipped his coffee. She almost felt sorry for him but she had been warned against that. Alcoholics thrived on pity.
“Danny. I want you to go to AA meetings.”
“Jesus, Deirdre. I’m not that bad.”
“Then you’ll have nothing to worry about. You can go and find out what it’s all about.” She had been told that too. ‘Just get him to meetings,’ they had advised over coffee after the meeting. “It will do no harm to be better informed. Then, if you really don’t have a problem, we’ll know.”
“It was just a few beers, Dee.”
A part of her wanted to reach out to him but she had been warned against that too. They had called it enabling. “I will go with you if that helps?”
He seemed to realize that there was no other way out. She had done it. She had forced him into the realization. The people at the meeting had said that was vital.
“Okay. If that’s what you want—I’ll do it. But you’ll see. They’ll probably tell me there is nothing wrong and not let me join.”
“Then we’ll all be happier.” It was like shooting fish in a barrel. “There’s a meeting tonight, at St. Monica’s on Broadway.”
“It’s not a Catholic thing, is it?”
“No.”
“But what if somebody sees me going in?”
“They’ll think you got religion.”
“Ah, Jazus, Dee. Do I have to?”
*
Danny knew there was no point in arguing. He knew, after the last time, that it was his last chance. Still, it
wasn’t the end of the world. He would go to the meeting and go along with it all until the heat was off. Growing up Catholic had its advantages.
Still, he sat in his car in the church car park to see what kind of idiots he was going to have to put up with. He thought about sitting there until the meeting was over but he knew better. Deirdre would have been in contact with them and they’d report back if he didn’t show. There was nothing for it but to head down to the basement, past the easel with the sign that read: You are no longer alone.
He tried to seem nonchalant but everywhere he looked somebody smiled back at him until he looked away. They must have all been tipped off that he was coming. What the fuck had he gotten himself into now?
I think you should hang around and see what it’s all about.
You would. How the fuck did you know I was here?
Kismet, Boyle. Kismet. Anto sounded very pleased with himself.
You don’t think I’m one of them. Do ya?
Not yet, but given time . . .
Look at them, Anto. For fuck’s sake!
They seem happy enough.
That’s because you’re dead. Look at them, for fuck’s sake. What a bunch of fuckin’ losers.
Yeah, and you’re a real winner.
But before Danny could respond, the meeting opened with a moment of silence and a prayer. Danny fought the urge to snicker but he was afraid. He was the only sane person in the room and decided to go along with them for the hour or two that it took. That way, if they did report back to Deirdre, she’d know he sat through the whole thing. He could turn this to his advantage yet.
The room was decorated with green ribbons and balloons, and the man who chaired the meeting was a droll Irish policeman. They must have gone to great efforts to snare him. After some rituals that Danny could not understand, and some uninspired interpretation of the clearly legible slogans that stood on little easels around the stage, a man got up to speak. He was from Dublin and Danny was sure that he’d been set up.
The man began to talk about himself and, though his story was very different from Danny’s, there were enough similarities. Deirdre must have prepped him too. He talked about his feelings toward God and stuff like that, and how he always felt that he was on God’s hit list and how he had a deep feeling of shame that he could never get rid of.
Danny wanted to scoff but it was too close to home. The man talked about growing up surrounded by a veil of lies and Danny couldn’t help but pay attention. The man talked about feeling separate and apart from everything going on around him, about feeling like an outsider and how others noticed and picked on him for that. And not just the other kids, but school teachers, priests and nuns and in time, the cops.
He said that he used to question everything—that nothing made sense. He questioned why people lived one way but talked about living another. He said it drove him mad until he found drugs and alcohol. He said when he drank, that it blunted all the jagged edges and he could function with the rest of the world.
Those around Danny began to nod in agreement.
The man said that it was only when he was drinking that he felt comfortable in his own skin—that he didn’t feel like he was less than everybody else. In fact, he told them sarcastically, it made him feel a lot better than the rest of them. So he used drugs and alcohol to help him get by and he had done very well for himself—for a while. He had come to Canada a few years before Danny and had worked in advertising. He’d become an art director with an expense account and all. He’d married, too, a model, but he lost it all—and her. She left him as he careened all the way down to the bottom, ending up in Seaton House and panhandling around Jarvis and Queen. But he was sober now for nearly five years and, even though he had a long hard climb back, he was grateful.
He told them he had a special message for newcomers too. He said that they didn’t have to wait until they lost everything. They could cash in their misery early and save themselves a lot of grief, and Danny couldn’t help but feel that the comment was directed solely at him.
He was unsure of himself as they passed the plate around and he dropped a dollar so they could all see that he was impressed. He almost was. A lot of what the man had said reverberated inside. Danny was nowhere near as bad as him but he could see himself getting there. It almost made him stop and think but everyone around him began to pray. “Our Father who art in Heaven . . .”
And that was enough for Danny. He had spent most of his life trying to get away from stuff like that.
Afterwards, he stood around so that no one could report that he was anxious to leave. He stood near the wall but a few guys came over to talk with him. One of them was the man who spoke.
“You new?”
“Ya. First meeting.”
“I’m Sean M,” he said as he held out his hand.
“I’m Danny B,” Danny answered, showing that he was hip to their ways.
“Do you think you have a problem with alcohol?”
“I might. My wife seems to think so.”
The man laughed at that. “Denial, Danny, it’s the greatest sickness in the world.”
“So,” Danny said, trying to brush past that, “do you get many Irish here?”
The man looked at all the green decorations and laughed again. “They’re for the church’s Saint Patrick’s Day dance, but ya, we do. Are we going to see you again?”
“Sure,” Danny answered as he measured the number of steps it would take to get to the door. “I mean if everybody thinks I have a problem, I’d be dumb not to find out.”
“Ya, you would,” the man smiled again before someone interrupted them. Danny seized the moment and fled. He tried not to walk too quickly, but even still, his heart was beating by the time he got to his car. He looked around again. It didn’t seem like anybody noticed but he knew they were watching him—for their report.
So, Boyle? What did you think?
Between you, me, and the wall, Anto, I’m not that fuckin’ bad. Not by a long shot.
He didn’t really believe himself but he had to put on a brave face. He didn’t want Anto to know it had gotten to him.
Maybe, Boyle. But, knowing you, you’ll get there.
*
“Are you sure it’s going to be okay?”
“Of course,” Deirdre assured her. Danny and Karl had gone to pick up wine while Miriam and Deirdre prepared dinner. “Danny was insistent. He says he has learned that he cannot hide from alcohol.”
“But it will be terrible for him, sitting watching the rest of us.”
“He says he’d feel more awkward if we weren’t.”
“Is he going to make it, Dee?”
Deirdre didn’t answer immediately. She had changed. The old Deirdre would have blurted out the first thing on her mind, but this one was different. She looked like a woman now—a woman who had children and a career. A woman who had it all. Miriam would have been jealous if she were someone else.
“One day at a time,” Deirdre finally answered, cautiously.
“And you? Are you going to make it?”
Deirdre flashed a doleful smile. “I have to.”
Miriam stood closer and gently rubbed her back as Deirdre chopped a little more frenetically. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
“I hope so,” Deirdre answered without looking up. “It’s his last chance.”
Miriam wanted to say something but what could she say? She knew nothing about this and there was no point in dragging out all the usual platitudes. “I’m sure it will be fine.”
*
“Are you sure it’s not going to be a problem?”
Danny looked over at Karl, leaning languidly against the other side of the car. With his elbow out the window and his hat low, he reminded Danny of the Marlboro man. “I told you. I’ll be fine. It’s one of the things they teach us—at the meetings.”
Karl said nothing but smiled as Danny pulled into the car park and got out. He followed, towering over Danny as he walked along beside
him. He knew his wines, too, and insisted on paying for them.
“Do you miss it?”
“Every day. But I’ve also learned to think about what will happen if I have one. Deirdre and the kids would be gone—she’s made that very clear. And I don’t blame her. I see what I used to be now and I don’t want my kids having to put up with any more of it.”
“Well good for you, Danny.” Karl smiled with his mouth but his eyes hardly flickered. Danny would have to be extra careful around him. He’d probably seen all kinds of things in ’Nam.
“It’s not me. I just go to meetings and do what I’m told.”
“So you found your ‘Higher Power?’” Karl smiled again, but just with his mouth.
“I wouldn’t go that far. I just go along with what they say is right—and the steps, of course.”
He started the car and pulled out of the car park, checking his mirrors and signaling like a model citizen.
“Well good for you, Danny.” Karl repeated, and turned to watch the neighborhood glide past, like he was checking for something.
*
The kids got to eat in front of the television so the adults could sit outside and dine. Deirdre had gone all out with help from Miriam: delicately grilled trout with side salads—green and potato. Karl had chosen light sweetish whites to complement it all. He even helped to tidy things away and helped Danny load the dishwasher. And while Deirdre served coffee, excused himself to check with his message service.
“He’s not working, is he?”
“Always, but what can you do?”
“What is it that he does?”
Miriam explained as well as she could until Karl returned and sat down with a big smile on his face: “He’s alive.”
“Oh, thank God.” Miriam hugged Deirdre while Danny sat dumbfounded.
“He’s somewhere safe and will be brought out when he is well enough to travel.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”