When His Dreams Take Flight

by Andy Holloman

  She finished her coffee and stood up. “I’ve got to go. I hope you know how sorry I am about this. I’ll be sure and keep you posted on what happens.”

  “Thanks, Alice. Please do.” He closed the door behind her. He turned and leaned back against the door. Slowly he slid down to the floor and then down on his side. The tears came hard and fast.

  XVII - May 25

  He took a parking spot in the far corner of the lot that was connected to Mt. Rutgers only ABC store. He sat and watched folks go in and out, carrying their brown paper packages. His hands gripped the steering wheel. Sweat beaded on his brow and lip. The store would close in ten minutes. This would be a time where he could handle it, not get out of control. Just a few sips to take the edge off was all he needed. A mini bottle or two would do the trick. His head fell back against the head rest, his eyes closed. He could smell it in his nostrils; the taste was on his tongue.

  “Nickie?”

  He jumped. “Joss? What the hell? You scared the crap out of me.”

  She looked down at the pavement and pushed a rock with her shoe. “Sorry.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I was just leaving the Piggly Wiggly and I saw your car. I’ve been worried about you.”

  “Are you stalking me or something?”

  “Of course not. I told you I’m just worried.” She turned and looked at the ABC store. “Now I can see I had good reason. You know you can’t go in there.”

  He gripped the steering wheel. “I, um, well, it’s been hard lately.”

  “I know, sugar. I heard about Gene.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be okay.”

  “Hey, Nickie, look at me.” He did. “I know you better than almost anybody. I know what you’re battling. Let me help you.”

  “It’s not, I mean, I can handle it. I appreciate your concern. I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. Follow me over to Pat’s so we can talk. I know you like that place. Plus I need to tell you something.” She put her hand on top of his on the steering wheel. “Really, sugar. You have to get away from this place.”

  He sighed and looked up at her. “You’re right. I do need to get away from this place. I’ll see you at Pat’s.”

  ***

  He got a chocolate milkshake. Jocellynn had a Diet Coke and fries.

  “You said you wanted to tell me something?”

  She stirred the ketchup on her plate with a fry. “I need to tell you how bad I feel about what I did that night you came over for dinner. It was a really shitty thing to do. I’m sorry, sugar.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I gotta take responsibility for myself. Besides, it’s not like you held a gun to my head and forced me to drink.”

  “Still. I’d give anything to take it back,” she said.

  “All is forgiven, dear.” He put his hand on top of hers.

  “Did I create any hassles for you with Allison?”

  “No. She knows what happened. We talked it out. That email you sent helped.”

  “I’m so glad about that.”

  “You said something earlier about things getting better for you?”

  “Yeah.” She shifted in her seat. “It kinda started for me after you left that morning. Just that feeling like you’ve sunk down so low. I know that they talk about how addicts have to hit bottom before they can begin to recover. Maybe my terrible behavior with you that night was the slap in the face that I needed.”

  “How bad was it for you before you moved back here?”

  “Same as you remember. Four or five glasses of wine a night, unless I was stressed about something. Then I’d hit the tequila, or maybe vodka. Weekends were worse.

  “Like how much?”

  “I would guess maybe twice that amount. I was shitfaced drunk at least once a week. It was on my mind every day.”

  “And since you came home?”

  “Not that different. My mom was noticing, though. She made some comments. But since that night with you, I just quit, cold.”

  “Good for you. What’s that been like?”

  “Hard. Slipped up twice.”

  “It’s hard, Joss, really hard. I fight it every day. But I guess you already know that since you just rescued me.”

  “Are you still going to meetings?” she asked.

  “I haven’t in the last few weeks. I’m going to go soon. I have to face the other guys in the group. Everyone knows each other and they all loved Gene. He was like the foundation of this group. He’d rally folks that were struggling. Called them, harassed them. He’d do whatever it took to help folks,” his voice cracked, “stay sober.” He looked down at the table.

  She handed him a napkin. “So I’m sure he helped you a lot.”

  “More than you could ever imagine.” He dabbed his eyes. “He had this way, this sorta magic touch that he used to talk folks down. If he had to, he’d throw his arm around you and just get you thinking about something else, about football, or your family. But I’ve also seen him really get in someone’s face and yell and scream.” He smiled. “Buck the fuck up. That was his favorite line and he had this funny as hell way of saying it. Made everyone laugh.”

  “Do you know anything more about why he picked up the bottle that night?”

  “Nothing. It has just been too much for me to wrap my head around.”

  “Did it have anything to do with Stick being released?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I just mean maybe he was worried or something like that.”

  “No. I don’t think Gene was too worried about Stick. Still, even if he was worried, that doesn’t seem like a reason for him to start drinking again. He’d been sober for years and years. Something about it just doesn’t add up.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, first off, he hated bourbon. Said it wrecked his insides. But they found a smashed up Jim Beam bottle in his car.”

  “Hmm.” She ate another fry. “I know this will sound strange, since I know the Laskins so well, but did the police check out where Stick was that night?”

  “Oh sure. That was the first thing they looked at. They told me Stick is in this Raleigh halfway house for a few months. Really tightly run place with curfews and stuff like that. Plus he showed them his computer and he was online during the time that they think Gene’s crash occurred. He was chatting with a woman somewhere in South America. So there was a log of it all, and the time line was all recorded.”

  “Stick’s not the sharpest tool in the shed, but you gotta think he’s not dumb enough to get out of jail and then try to kill somebody.” She reached over and touched his hand. “Hey, sugar, I’m sorry I said some bad things about Gene. I still have a hard time with him killing Joanne. She was such a special lady.”

  “I remember. How did you know about Stick getting out of jail?”

  “I’ve been chatting with Timmie. Seeing how he’s doing. He and I had lunch not too long ago and he filled me in on what was happening. He visited his dad in jail pretty regularly. According to Timmie, Stick’s been a good prisoner. He’s been taking his medications and studying. Mostly good stuff.” She ate another fry. “He did say Stick has this strange obsession with Eric Rudolph.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “You know, the guy that planted the bomb at the Atlanta Olympics and blew up abortion clinics?”

  “Oh yeah, I remember.”

  “Well, you might remember too that Rudolph was on the run from the FBI for like four or five years. They could never find him. He was some super outdoorsman kinda guy. Hid out in the mountains. They finally caught him fishing food out of a dumpster.”

  “So Stick has some fascination with this guy?”

  “I’m just reporting what Timmie said. He told me Stick has written to Rudolph, and he even got a couple of letters back from him.”

  Nick dropped the spoon back into his empty cup and pushed it aside. “It’s nice of you to try to help Timmie. I hope he’s not a lost cause.”
>
  “He’s struggling, but he’ll talk to me. He trusts me. His grandmother is having problems with her memory. He told me he’s looking forward to his dad coming back home so he can leave town and not have to take care of her.”

  “I hope you’ve warned Jodie about him.”

  “There’s no warning her. I mean she knows just like everyone else what Timmie’s been through. She’s got this wild crush on him and it’s hard to reason with her.”

  Nick smiled. “Crushes aren’t very rational, huh?”

  She smiled back. “That’s true. But I can get the temperature of things pretty well from Timmie and I don’t think he’s taking advantage of her. I worry because she’s vulnerable. She hasn’t had much practice dealing with men.”

  “You could teach her.”

  “Not sure I’d be a good teacher, sugar.” She pushed her bangs out of her eyes. “Seems like I’m great at losing the good ones.”

  He smiled. “You’ll find someone, Joss.” He took one of her fries. “Are you getting any word on a full-time position?”

  “No word. I just have to wait.”

  “Can’t Patty make it happen?”

  “She’s tried. Just doesn’t appear to be anything available.”

  “I can do a little more to help.”

  “That would be fantastic, sugar.”

  “Glad to help.” He pulled out his wallet and put a ten and a five down on the bill. “And thank you for saving me tonight.”

  “Will you do me another favor?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Will you be sure and call me if you’re having a hard time? You know, if you’re feeling like you have to drink again. I’d like to be there for you.”

  “Of course. And I want you to call me if the same thing happens to you.”

  “Can I call you just to talk?” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “I mean, we could just chat.”

  “Sure dear, anytime.” They slid out of the booth and stood up. They hugged. He could feel her body trembling. He released her and then gently wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “You’re a good person, Joss. Don’t be a stranger, okay?”

  She nodded.

  ***

  Alice called Nick the next day.

  “Hey, Nick, it’s Alice. How are ya?”

  “I’m good, Alice. How ‘bout you?”

  “Not bad, not bad.”

  “What’s happening with Gene’s case?”

  “Nothing’s changed. We’re finishing up things this week and closing the case after that.”

  He sighed. “Damn, Alice. I mean, I guess that’s good, but like I told you, things still feel wrong to me.”

  “I understand, Nick. There’s nothing else I can say to you except we investigated the accident and we can’t come up with anything.”

  “What happen with the blood test?”

  “There was no trace of alcohol in his system.”

  “That’s what I thought it might show. He couldn’t drink bourbon.”

  “It’s strange. But I’ve seen stranger things. I don’t think anyone is ever going to know what was going through his mind.”

  “So what happens now?”

  “Nothing in regards to Gene’s death. But I also called to give you a heads up about something else.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Stick Laskin has been living in a halfway house since he was released from prison. Those folks called me today to say that he’s been AWOL for four days.”

  “So where is he?”

  “Nobody knows.”

  “What about Timmie and Stick’s mom?”

  “They were the first folks I went to see. There was this moment with Timmie, though, I don’t know. He just didn’t seem right.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s hard to tell. It’s just that kids aren’t as good at hiding things as adults are. You probably see that in your work.”

  “Yeah, I do. They suck at lying.”

  “I pressed him, and I got him to tell me a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Timmie told us that Stick has this strange fascination with Eric Rudolf. So he showed me this text that Stick sent the day before he disappeared.”

  “What did it say?”

  “It’s really out there, but let me read you this from my notes: Then one foggy Summer’s Eve / God came to say / Rudolf with your light so bright / Help me save the babies tonight. Then all the people loved him / And they shouted out with glee / Rudolf our supreme savior / You’ll go down in history.”

  “A bad version of ‘Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer.’”

  “Yeah, Timmie said the same thing. Plus, Eric Rudolf did plant explosives at a couple of abortion clinics.”

  “So maybe you should warn those folks, too.”

  “I’m thinking about that. But those folks deal with crazies all the time so without more concrete information, I don’t feel like there’s much here to tell them.”

  “Any more text messages?”

  “Nothing. Timmie has instructions to let me know if he does hear from him. I’ve tried the number that Timmie gave me, but I just get a busy signal every time.”

  “Okay. Strange stuff, Alice. Thanks for the heads up.”

  “Sure, Nick. And let me say again how sorry I am about Gene.”

  “I miss him, Alice. Every day.”

  “Me too.”

  ***

  Days later, tequila dominated Nick’s thoughts more than ever before. It was a battle between him and Jose Cuervo, and he worried that Jose was winning. Nick made it through the school day just fine, but at home, he could only pace the room and punch his fist into his hand. One night, he again pulled into the parking lot of the ABC store. He rocked back and forth in his seat, squeezing the steering wheel. Beautiful commercials of Cuervo being poured into a glass had his head swimming, his skin was on fire. Just a taste, a mini bottle would be enough.

  “No, no, no, no!” He pounded the steering wheel. Gene’s voice filled his head. “This is not the way, Nick. You gotta buck the fuck up.” His mouth was as dry as sand. He drove away without going in. That night he barely slept. The next day was the same. When he couldn’t stand it anymore, he called Allison.

  “Hey, sweetie. It’s me.”

  “Hmm, hi, Nickie, my dear. What time is it, honey?”

  “It’s late, baby. Like two o’clock. I wanted to say hi. I—I just—I miss Gene. I wish he was still around, you know.”

  “I know, Nickie, I know. He was like a big brother to you.”

  “He just understood. I mean, because he’d been through it all. The power the stuff holds over you. But Gene could help. He’d been there. He knew all about it ‘cause he’d been down in the hole, you know?”

  She sat up in her bed. “I know, Nickie. You’re right. He was a good guy and he did know. But I’m here, too, sweetie. What would he want you to be thinking now?”

  “Um, I guess, well, that I should stay sober and enjoy the moment because life is short.”

  “That’s right. That’s exactly what Gene would want, or if the situation was reversed, it is what you would want. You should be sad and grieve for your friend, but don’t let it take over. Remember the letter I showed you that my dad wrote for me before he passed away?”

  His voice cracked. “Sure, baby, I remember. It was a beautiful letter. All about how it was important to not get bogged down in sadness. That we have to go on living and enjoying our life in order to honor the person that has passed away.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what Gene would want. He wants you to live your life, be a good father and husband and principal. Enjoy each day and hold those you love close to you. Tell them how much you love them. We have to celebrate our life together, Nickie. I know he was excited about the wedding.”

  “He was. And now he can’t even be there.”

  “Maybe he will be there, watching, celebrating with us and our new baby.”

  “You’re right
. I know that. I just feel, so empty—like I don’t know how best to describe it. Gene knows, I mean, knew the feelings, too. He could just, I don’t know. I’m sorry, baby, it’s late. Sorry that I woke you up.”

  “Wait, Nickie, don’t hang up!”

  “I’ll see you at school, sweetie. I love you.” He hung up his phone and placed it on the coffee table. He watched it vibrate with her return call while he refilled his glass with the golden liquid.

  Gene, goddamn you. How the hell could you leave me?

  He lifted the glass and the mesmerizing smell of tequila filled his nostrils. He became light headed and he sighed as it touched his lips and tongue. He rolled it around in his mouth and swallowed.

  Ecstasy.

  It did not cross his mind that the dream might come again.

  XVIII - June 5, 8:40 a.m.

  “Class, please quiet down. I need everyone’s homework from last night. Pass your worksheets up to the front. Beth, will you collect them and put them in my top basket?”

  “Sure, Miss Tucker,” said Beth.

  Allison noticed someone looking into her classroom from the entrance at the back of the room. She walked towards the door. “Listen, everyone, the talking needs to stop right this minute or I’ll have to make this a double homework night, just like we did last week.”

  Groans erupted from the room.

  “Please open your textbooks to Chapter 17 and began reading.”

  She opened the door.

  “Um, sorry, ma’am. Name’s Stick Laskin. I’m here to check my son Timmie out of school early.”

  She stepped through the door and closed it behind her. His hair was dirty and matted and his clothes were stained with mud. She moved sideways down the hall to put space between them. “Mr. Laskin, I’m afraid you have to go through the normal procedures for this and stop by the office and then have them call me to release Timmie. We do have rules about early check-out.”

  “Yeah, um—I kinda thought that I was supposed to do that. But seein’ as how I’m here now and everything—I mean, he is my kid, so I’m gonna just take him with me now.” He reached for the door knob. She put her hand in front of the door knob.