Love By its First Name

by Hanley, Don;

  “I’m afraid so, Derek.” Jerry opened his jacket so they could see his arm in a sling. “I might be able to play a little football with you, if I can be quarterback.” As they huddled around him, he knelt down and gave sideways hugs all around, calling each by name. The youngest two, a boy and girl, were Gladys’ grandchildren. “I better run in and say ‘Hi’ to the big people first, don’t you think?”

  Jonathan, twelve, his brother Scott’s youngest, looked disgusted. “Go on in but they don’t care, they’re so drunk that they won’t even see you.” He hoped Jonathan was wrong, but doubted it.

  Nancy, Jonathan’s sister, piped up, “Jonathan, don’t talk that way, it’s not nice.”

  “Yeah, but it’s true.”

  “Uncle Gewaawd, can I be on your side?” This from Stephen, a grandnephew, age five.

  “Sure, Stephen.” Jerry untangled himself and stood up. “I’ll go see if anyone is awake in there and then come back out, okay?” As he headed toward the front door, he thought he could enjoy the visit, if most of the adults went away. Only Mary, Kelli, his mother, and Scott’s wife had sent him a get-well card when he was in the hospital in May and only Mary and his mother seemed interested in his last hospitalization.

  Without knocking, he opened the door and entered. Two brothers and two brothers-in-law were sprawled out in front of the television watching a football game. A fifth, Nathan, Mary’s accountant husband, sat solemnly in back of the slouching four. He alone stood and extended his hand in greeting. Nathan was a small, shy man who knew he didn’t fit in with the Haloran clan. Jerry was sure his presence was due only to Mary’s insistence. Jerry had seen only Gladys and family, Kelli and his mom, all of whom lived in Omaha, and Mary and her family in Kansas City in the past three or four years.

  Jack, Gladys’ bald and fat husband, looked up and waved. “Welcome to my house, old man.” He quickly looked back at the game. John, Jerry’s oldest brother, thin and depressed looking, gave him a weak smile and raised a hand. Jerry nodded.

  Scott, six years older than Jerry and the third oldest of the siblings, was a little louder. He yelled, “Hey, Holy Man, I hear you were shot. Between the legs, I hope—bein’ you never use anything down there anyway.” All but Nathan laughed. “Grab yerself a beer and come join us.” A chill ran down Jerry’s spine and his right hand automatically made a fist. In manner, if not looks, Scott reminded Jerry of Ralph Kurtz. He wondered if his brother physically abused his two boys and one girl when they were home. He heard him verbally hurt them, but had never seen him hit any of them.

  Spade, Shelly’s truck-driver husband, smiled and waved without taking his eyes off the television.

  Jerry outwardly ignored Scott. Why in hell aren’t these guys outside playing with the kids? He wondered. What a pathetic sight.

  Nathan stood near Jerry as all this was going on. “Good to see you, Gerard.” He lowered his voice to a near-whisper. “You fit in around here about as well as I do, I think. How are things going for you? I understand that you were wounded again.”

  “Yeah, I guess it’s getting to be a habit. Twice in one year is a little much, don’t you think?”

  “I’d sure think so. I hope you can find time to tell me about it.”

  Jerry went into the kitchen to greet the women of the family. A Formica counter divided the kitchen from the combination dining room-family room. His mother, four sisters and two sisters-in-law were all present: four in the kitchen working on dinner, two on barstools at the counter, and his mother in a rocker nearby. All but Mary, busy stirring something on the stove, and Mom, had a beer in hand or on the counter. They seemed to be caught up in a conversation about men.

  “I tell you, they don’t have the brains they were born with.” Shelli waved a knife over a head of lettuce.

  “I don’t think they were born with any!” Gladys added.

  No one had noticed Jerry standing in the doorway. “Awe, come on, you all, all men aren’t brainless.”

  They all looked his way. Mary said, “Oh, hi, Gerard, we didn’t hear you come in. The zombies come to life in there every once in a while and make a little noise. We don’t pay any attention.”

  None of the women moved to give him a hug as he made his way over to his mother. The little old lady, seventy-nine, lifted her head to him as he bent over, took her hand, and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Hi, Mom. How are you?”

  “Okay, I guess, son. I was worried about you with the snow and all.” Her weak voice matched her frail body, which was wrapped up in an old, faded blue sweater. Her gray hair was tied back in a bun. Jerry tried to remember a time when her hair wasn’t in a bun or when she didn’t look like all the life had gone out of her. Her eyes had none of the sparkle he had found in Alice Peterson’s, a sparkle the Paris woman had kept up until the day she died. Jerry’s whole family always said that Mom was “just tired out”. Several years ago, he realized that it was more than that: his mother was chronically depressed and had been for over twenty years. Kelli, with whom she lived, as well as all the others, strongly resisted the idea that their mother would benefit from therapy. He guessed they believed it would reflect badly on them.

  “No need to worry, Mom.” He glanced at his watch. “I made pretty good time. No traffic, everyone stayed home except me, I guess.” He sniffed the air. “Smells pretty good, what’s cookin’?”

  Gladys put down her beer. “How about turkey, ham, roast beef, dressing, yams, mashed potatoes, cranberries, salad, oh, and rolls? Except for Mary and Nathan...” She looked down her nose, attempting to look snooty. “Who have gone vegetarian on us. They’ll have tofu, whatever that is.”

  Mary glared at Gladys then smiled at Jerry. He winked back at her and smiled graciously. For years he had thought the vegetarian philosophy made sense - for health, the environment, and even for the animals’ sake. He just hadn’t been quite willing to entirely wean himself away from meat.

  John’s wife, Tiffany, piped up, “Can you imagine not eating meat in the meat capital of the world?”

  “You gonna go watch football with the couch potatoes?” Kelli asked.

  “No. I promised the kids I’d join them in a little football.”

  Mary said, “You can’t play football with an arm in a sling. How bad is it, anyway?”

  He was glad someone noticed. There for a while, he felt just like he did as a kid, like there was no one in the world that cared about him. “It still hurts a bit at times. I can take it out of the sling for brief periods. The kids said I could play quarterback and use one hand. If the left side hurts too much, I’ll quit. Where are the older ones?”

  “Down in the basement playing with the computer or something.”

  He went down the stairs behind the kitchen and found eight more kids, one boy about fourteen playing some kind of game on the computer and three more waiting a turn. Three girls and another boy were playing pool. Not present were five more nieces and nephews, either married or away at college. The girls rushed over and gave him hugs and asked him how he got wounded and if it hurt. All the boys, true to form, only said “hi,” but unlike their elders upstairs, they did shake hands.

  “I promised the kids outside I’d join them in a football game. Who else wants to play?”

  All three girls immediately said they did. Jason, Scott’s fourteen year-old son, pushed one of them aside. “Girls can’t play football.”

  She pushed him back. “I know Uncle Gerard will let us. So come out and see whether or not we can play. I can beat you any time, weirdo.”

  Jason called out, “Come on, you guys, let’s show these dames that they don’t know nothin’.” All but Nathan’s boy, Brian, agreed to come along. Unfortunately, Jerry thought, Brian looked like the stereotypical nerd, he even wore pressed slacks and a tie. It was going to be a long day for him with this crowd.

  When they all got together in the front yard, Jerry looked the group over, six girls and eight boys. The girls ranged in age from five to sixteen and the boys, from
six to fifteen. They matched up pretty well in size. He shouted, “How about this: Six girls and eight boys. I’ll join the girls and we’ll beat you macho-men.” Only little Stephen objected but agreed when Jerry told him he would do something special with him later.

  The girls clapped their gloved hands together and squealed. The boys muttered, “Okay, we’ll show ya.” “We’ll clean yer clocks.” “Let’s go fellas!” “Cornhuskers against the Pansies.”

  They played ‘tag’ football until the sun was only a golden glow on the horizon. Once Jerry had carried the youngest girl over the goal line with one arm, as she clutched the ball. The boys called it cheating but the girls said it was fair. He ran interference for two girls as they scored touchdowns. The score was tied thirty-thirty, when one of the mothers hollered from the door, “Come in and clean up. Dinner’ll be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  They were all covered with snow as they headed to the back porch of the house. Jerry brushed as much snow as possible from the little ones and encouraged everyone to clean their shoes or take their boots off before going in. He realized, too late, that he should have had them all take their shoes off as he saw wet and muddy tracks across the tile floor. Just a he entered the kitchen, he heard Shelly yell, “Hey, you stupid little shits, don’t you know how to clean your shoes? Use your brains, if you have any. Damn!”

  The kids who had not reached the kitchen huddled in the doorway as Jerry quickly walked over to Shelly just as she was about to slap her six-year-old girl, Kathy. He gently pushed the girl behind him. Struggling to control his voice, he said, “Shelly, it’s my fault, I thought I got them cleaned up. I honestly don’t think a little mud on the floor warrants calling them such awful names.”

  Shelly glared at him as if he had accused her of murdering their mother. “What the hell do you know about kids, you’ve never had any! When you get out of your ivory tower and have some kids, then you can tell me how to talk to mine.” She was shouting. Only Mary seemed to be disturbed by the outburst. Men gathered across the counter near the table piled high with food. Jerry’s mother, still in the rocker, wrung her hands and looked agitated.

  Spade, Shelly’s six-foot, four-inch husband, came around the counter and grabbed Kathy by the hair. Kathy held on to Jerry’s pant leg as her father sputtered, “Let go of him, you little snot! I’ll show you what happens to kids who mess up.”

  Jerry immediately freed his left hand and arm from the sling. Using both hands he grabbed the arm holding Kathy’s hair and twisted. His left shoulder felt like it was being shot all over again, but he didn’t let go of Spade’s arm. After a few moments, which felt like hours, the big man let go of the little girl’s hair and drunkenly shouted, “Ya sonofabitch!” He made a wild and akward swing at Jerry’s head, missed, and sprawled on the floor. Kathy was crying hysterically. Jerry picked her up and cradled her in his right arm and moved quickly to the counter. He sat the girl down on the counter and picked up the telephone and dialed 91 then paused. He was sure that Spade and Shelly had been abusive to Kathy and the others but he had only witnessed what the child protection people would consider a minor hair-pulling incident.

  Spade had gotten to his feet and advanced toward Jerry. “Take one more step, Spade, and I complete this 911 call and you’ll spend the night in jail.” His brother-in-law stopped, rocking unsteadily from side to side. He was bleary-eyed as he looked around for some kind of support. “Ain’t no police doing anything to me, asshole,” Spade slurred.

  “You started this by pickin’ on my wife.”

  Shelly, tears running down her cheeks, looked frightened as she said, “Now look what you’ve done, Gerard, you’ve ruined a perfectly good Christmas!” She attempted to take Kathy from his arms. The girl had quietly nestled her head against his shoulder.

  Still holding the phone, Jerry turned away from Shelly. “I’ll hold her for a while, she’s calm now.”

  Spade again lurched at Jerry. “Gimme my fuckin’ daughter, asshole.” He made a grab for Kathy. Jerry stepped aside, put his foot out, and tripped the lumbering Spade. The women screamed and cleared the way as the big man nosedived toward the cabinets. His head banged against a cupboard with a resounding thud. Spade lay there without moving.

  Jerry’s stomach was in knots as he flashed back to his father’s death. He put an arm around Kathy as he stared at the fallen man. Relief flooded over him as he saw Spade begin to breathe heavily.

  Shelly knelt down by her husband. “Spade, are you okay? Should we call an ambulance?”

  She helped him to a sitting position. “Naw, I’m okay.” Spade looked up at the worried faces around him and then at Jerry. “Better get that sonofabitch outta here ‘fore I kill him!”

  Gladys, as hostess of the gathering, seemed compelled to speak. “Gerard, you have really ruined everything.”

  Mary went to Jerry’s defense. “He hasn’t done anything except try to protect that precious little girl.”

  “Protect, my ass!” Scott interjected. “He butted in on something that was none of his business.” He turned to Jerry. “We all knew you thought you were better’en the rest of us, now we know fer sure. Yer so damn high ‘n mighty!”

  Jerry looked around at the group. Several of the children were crying, and of the adults, only Nathan and Mary seemed not to agree with Scott. He turned toward the living room. “Mary and Nathan, could I speak to you for a moment?” Still holding Kathy in his arms, he walked through the door. The couple followed him through the living room and outside. When they got to the small front porch, Jerry said, “I think it best that I leave.” He handed Kathy to Mary.

  With tears flowing down her cheeks, Mary took Kathy and held her close. “Gerard, I fear for this little girl, and for her brothers, too. I wish you would have made that call. The children are not safe.”

  “I know, but we didn’t have enough to go on, only the hair pulling. Child Protective Services won’t arrest on that; they’ll only give a warning. I was afraid the police coming would only make things worse. I’m sorry if I spoiled everything.”

  Nathan put his hand on Jerry right shoulder. “You didn’t make things worse.” He hesitated a moment, then added, “I hate to say this, but your family has more than its share of nutcases.”

  “I’m afraid you’re right.” Jerry gave Mary and Kathy a hug. “I hope you can find a way for her to be safe, at least for today.”

  Mary held Jerry’s hand. “I’ll do my best. I don’t think we can stay here very much longer, either. I’ll talk to Shelly when things calm down.”

  “Please tell Mom that I’ll call her soon.” Jerry shook Nathan’s hand.

  Several of the children had gone out the backdoor and were standing at the bottom of the porch steps. “You’re not leaving are you, Uncle Gerard?” one of them asked.

  “I think it’s better if I leave. I’m sorry. I really enjoyed our game.”

  Stephen threw his arms around Jerry’s legs. “I wish you were my daddy. My daddy’s mean.” Tears were running down his cheeks.

  Jerry knelt down and gave Stephen a hug. “I’m sorry, Stephen.” The other kids took turns with the hugs, saying, “I wish you wouldn’t leave.” “You’re our favorite uncle.” One of the older ones said, “You were right to help Kathy out.”

  He held back tears and waved to the kids as he drove away.

  Lost in thought, he automatically headed south. He was tense, his shoulder hurt like hell, and he was getting a headache as he ruminated about his family. Maybe he should have stayed. No, it would just have made things worse.

  CHAPTER 18

  ….there was no one to support me…Then I remembered your mercy

  Lord and your deeds from earliest times…

  Ecclesiasticus 5: l0-11

  Looking around him, Jerry began to wonder where he would go. He had planned to stay in Omaha until Saturday morning; it was Wednesday. He couldn’t stand the idea of going back to Paris because it seemed so bleak and lonely on Christmas Day. He needed to talk
to someone. If Alice were still alive, Paris would be more inviting at the moment. Marge Woerner was visiting friends in Chicago. Wayne was off to his own family gathering. Alice, Wayne, Marge, and to a lesser degree, Kathy and Rebecca were his only confidants for the past several months.

  Kathy had invited him to join her family in Ashland, Kansas, but that would be too awkward and besides it was too late. Could he get in touch with Rebecca? Was she really serious about his joining them in San Francisco, or was she just being nice? He probably should go to a Trappist monastery he once visited in Missouri, have a quiet retreat, and straighten himself out. But he didn’t want to be alone in a monastery, or anyplace else.

  He glanced at his watch; it was seven-fifteen. That would be five-fifteen in San Francisco. Spotting a Denny’s near the next exit, he pulled off the freeway. He found a phone near the restrooms, looked up the area code for San Francisco, and asked for the number for the Hyatt Hotel. Cradling the phone on his shoulder, he wrote down the number. His hand shook as he dialed the number and then his long-distance card number. The hotel operator told him she would ring Ms. Brady’s room.

  His fingers were crossed as the room phone rang three times. Rebecca picked up the phone and answered, “Hello.”

  Jerry wanted to ask her if he could join them but something stopped him and he remained silent.

  Rebecca repeated her “Hello” and added, “Who is this?”

  Jerry began, “Re…” but could not bring himself to say her name or anything else and remained silent.

  He heard Helene ask, “Who is it?” Rebecca must have turned from the phone as her voice was somewhat muffled as she said, “Some kind or weirdo, I guess. For a moment there, I thought it was J.” She was hanging up.

  Jerry’s hand was shaking as he hung up the phone. He muttered, “Yeah, Rebecca, it is some kind of weirdo.” He really didn’t feel like eating, but he felt hungry. Looking around the restaurant, he noticed a rumpled and poorly dressed fellow at the counter, an old man sitting alone at a table reading a paper as he sipped coffee and a fairly young couple dressed in matching black leather jackets sitting in one booth. That was the entire population of the restaurant on this Christmas Day. The “Please Wait To Be Seated” sign was turned around, so Jerry slowly made his way over to a window booth and sat down. An unsmiling waitress promptly brought him a menu and poured him a cup of coffee. He ordered a cheeseburger and fries. It didn’t take long to arrive and the only positive thing about the meal was that it filled him up. Only ten miles away was a pile of deliciously cooked food that would mostly go uneaten because the adults were too drunk to eat.