Part 11
The truck is pouring out heat, and Nattie and I are sipping on our cups of clam chowder. It's become our norm, and it's nice.
The main thing that makes it good for me is that, while our conversations aren't any more personal, she makes a conscious effort to stay sober for our visits. A sober Nattie is hilarious, and we just... chill. Like friends.
"I can't believe you still think that, Michael. Never gonna happen. Why you think the Pats are gonna win another Super Bowl is beyond me.”
That's right, Nattie’s a sports fan. While I'm rabid in my support of Boston teams, she's almost rabid in hating them. It makes for very loud conversations, but each one brings me closer to her in my head.
"Because you can't ever bet against Belichick and Brady. That's how. Come on, this season was supposed to suck, and we made the AFC Championship."
She snorts, finishes her chowder and goes silent as she spins the empty styrofoam container in her hand. "Michael?"
"Yeah, Nattie?"
"You once asked me why the crack, and if I wanted to get off it, right?"
Confused as to why she's bringing this up now, I just keep it short. "Right."
"I did something bad. So bad, that I don't know if I deserve anything else. It's like my punishment and pain relief all in one."
My whole body tenses, and I know for a fact that giving me away was her "something bad". "Well... Did you have a good reason for doing it?"
A single tear runs down her cheek and she nods. "Even my good intentions aren't enough to forgive it."
The tear does me in. I can't keep it in much more.
"Nattie?"
"Yea?"
"I'm an orphan. Left alone in this world. No clue as to why, but I was. The thing is, until recently, it was all anger at the situation. Why me? Fuck them. But, I've learned that everyone has a reason for everything."
Her tears flow, and she grips the pipe. "Then you will hate me more for this, Michael. I abandoned my son. Just like your parents did you. The reasons are useless when there is a child ruined because of it."
"Who says he's ruined?"
"Who says he isn't?" She holds up the pipe and continues. "This... This right here? Makes me forget that I might have ruined a child's life."
She jumps out of the truck and, instead of going after her, I just sit. We both have this pain from one moment in both our lives. Different pain, but the same moment. The turning point.
I drive off to Sonnie’s, even though it's my day off, and slide up to a stool. Forcing a grin, I tap on the bar. "Hey, barkeep, your best whiskey and a glass."
Sonnie spins around, taking in every part of me. She sighs and grabs a fresh bottle of Johnny Black and a glass. "Here ya go. Drink it up, but expect me to be on your ass all night. Got me?"
I ignore her and break the seal on my bottle. Pouring the cup to the brim, I turn to the guy next to me and start up a conversation.
Hours later, the bottle is all but gone and I've been just chilling. It's been a mix of singing, drinking, joking around and pushing the prowlers away.
The only time Sonnie had to step in? This stupid broad kept coming up to me, trying to touch me. Each touch brought back the conversation with Paris about Tricky and I would snarl. She was fucking relentless, and I finally stood on the stool (albeit wobbly) and screamed while pushing my hand in her face.
"See this fucking ring? It means I'm fucking married, and you need to back the fuck off before I choke you."
"Whoa, killer." Sonnie grabbed my hand, pulling it back, while her and my new drinking buddy sat me back down.
Sonnie turns and looks at the woman, pure venom in her eyes. "Get the fuck out of my bar and don't come back. He's told you time and fucking time again to back off. He is a Sonnie’s special. That means whatever he says goes in here. Got it?"
The girl grabs her purse, and runs out as quick as she can. I laugh and drink straight from the bottle as all my regulars heckle her as she passes.
The bottle is ripped from my mouth and I get a Sonnie glare myself. "And you, drunk fuck. Go into my office and sleep it off for a bit. I don't need your shit stinking up my place."
"My shit? My shit? Well don't fucking worry. I'm outta here. It will smell like roses in about two minutes."
I grab my jacket and stumble to the door, ignoring Sonnie calling my name. I step out into the frigid air and sober a bit.
Stumbling the few blocks to my apartment, I suddenly think of my conversation with Nattie, and bend over a snow bank. Emptying my stomach contents isn't a pretty sight, but I retched until it was nothing but dry heaves.
I sit down, my mind drunkenly takes over, and I cry. I cry for the little boy who lost his mom and was thrust into a hell he didn't deserve. I cry for Nattie, the woman who made a decision she thought was the best, which made her who she is today. I cry for Sonnie and what she endured, and is still fighting inside herself.
But most of all, I cry for Paris, what I've done to her with my shit. It was never intentional, but all I can see are her tears that last night. When she told me she wasn't coming, I lost it. I got on my knees, begged her to please come with me, told her I wouldn't go without her, everything I could do to make her see that she is it for me.
She stood firm. No yelling, no insults or blame were placed. She just told me to go, tears dripping off her cheeks and chin, and I knew at that moment I was going alone.
I don't know how long I sat there, but the next thing I remember is the crunch of boots on snow.
"Relax, Sonnie. I've found him. The stupid fuck is sitting in a snow bank two blocks from your place."
Chuck. Good old Chuck to the rescue.
"I'll get him home. Talk in a bit."
I look up, and I see a freezing Chuck standing over me with a pissed but pitying look on his face.
"Don't worry." I stand, weave, and look around. "I'll make it home myself."
I start walking and hear Chuck call out. "Well if that's the case, J-Man, you're going the entirely wrong direction."
Spinning around, I weave as the dizziness takes over. Chuck rushes up, catching me before I fall and expertly tucks me into his warm car. Resting my head on the back of the seat, I groan. "Just to my apartment, then go home."
"Uh-huh" His car pulls away from the curb, the swish of his tires cutting through slush lulls me to sleep.
"Joel. Come on, we're home."
I open my eyes and see the apartment, and the words slip out. "Not home. This isn't my home."
"Well, we're at your place of sleep, then. Let's go."
I get out of the car and wait as Chuck unlocks the door, and I stumble up the steps to my apartment.
Unlocked. Fuck. Not again. Walking in, I find it dark, so whoever was in here this time is long gone. Chuck flips on the lights, and calls out, "When did you get a horse, J?"
I frown and look around. A horse? My eyes rest on roofer sleeping in the corner. That's right, Momma A must have let him in. "Not mine. Ignore him like I do, and he will ignore you."
I stumble into the bathroom, and immediately strip and climb into the hot shower. I scrub hard, as if washing the memories of the day away.
Wrapping a towel around my waist, I walk straight to the bed, falling face first into it and pulling a Paris-scented pillow to me. "Just lock up when you leave, Chuck. Talk to you another day."
"Not happenin, J. I'm ordered to stay here until the sun comes up. So sleep well, sunshine."
I mumble a "fucking Sonnie" as I bury my face in the pillow. If they want to stay here, sleeping on a floor? I don't give a fuck. Breathing in Paris, I pass out.
---TBC---
Part 12
It's been days, and once again these four walls are driving me insane. Ever since I woke up that next morning, I've been at a loss. On the table was a shot of Jamieson, a packet of Tylenol, four Gatorade bottles and a note.
Joel,
Don't come in until the weekend. Take time to sort your shit. On the off chance you need us for anything, give us a call.
Find your peace,
Sonnie and Chuck
That right there gave me four days of absolutely nothing to do. I've paced, written emails, shadow boxed, and... looked for Nattie. This has become my primary goal. Find Nattie, tell her who I am, and give us both peace. If it's to be found, that is.
Day in and day out, I've searched for her. Everywhere. Jails, hospitals, all the places she's mentioned in any conversation. All for nothing.
I even had one of her johns come to my truck window last night, looking for her. It took every ounce of control not to punch him, but at the same time, I let him know she's not for sale anymore. Now what? I'm at a complete loss on what to do. There's only so much I have any urge to do right now, and that alone drives me crazy.
Grabbing my jacket and keys, I head out to the truck for another Nattie search. I'm worried as hell, because the frigid temps lately make me stress that something could happen.
Aimlessly driving, still no sign of her, I find myself rolling down a familiar road and pulling into the parking lot. I have no clue why I'm here, but I might as well make good on my promise of a talk.
Heading up the walkway, I see the faces peering out of the windows. All boys, all ages, just staring at me as I knock on the door. I used to be one of those kids.
The door opens and Mother F takes my hand, pulling me inside. "Save the heat, Joel. I know you didn't forget that rule."
Chuckling, I shake my head. "No,ma'am. Heat costs money, and God doesn't like frivolous spending, right?"
"Absolutely. Now what can I do for you?"
I shrug, and grin. "Thought you might have missed my face. Plus I owe you a talk, remember?"
She studies me for a moment and takes my hand, leading me into the kitchen area. Why here, I have no clue, until I see her stirring a huge pot. I lean over and breath deep. Chicken stew.
Grabbing a clean spoon, I dip it into the broth, tasting and frowning. "Have you ever heard of salt?"
Grabbing the enormous salt container, I add some to the stew as we talk. What's been going on in her life and what happened to me in mine all done in a companionable conversation that I never would have expected.
She places the lid on the stew and we sit across from each other, staring at each other, as if waiting for the first person to break the silence.
"I've found my mother."
Her eyes widen. "She's still alive? Really? How do you feel about that?"
I immediately want to blow it off, but for Nattie’s sake, and my own, I can't. "Confused. Angry. Sad. Hopeful?"
She laughs and shakes her head. "Joel, let me tell you. You are a poison onto yourself. From the first minute I laid eyes on you, I knew it."
"What do you mean?"
"From age four, you thought you had it all figured out. That no one but your mother was going to be enough. That's what your heart said. Your stubborn mind? Refused to accept it. Ever. In there, you were trash, and no one deserved trash. So you pushed everyone away and built these walls that were forged in steel. Impenetrable."
I sit and think for a long while, silent, and processing all my childhood in an adult’s eyes. Is it true? That Nattie was my driving force from the very beginning? "So what now? I'm at a point that it needs to all go away in my head. I can't keep living this way, thinking that I'm not enough, that I have to solve everything on my own."
"You're doing it. Right now. I would never have believed that you would be sitting here, across from me, opening up about this. That is progress, right?"
"But is it enough?"
"Enough for who? You? Only you and God know that answer."
"Enough for the other people in my life." I fill her in on Manchester, what I've found there, what I've damaged, and what my hopes are.
"That is up to them, Joel, but I assure you, if you are at peace? They will be at peace. They hurt with and for you, Joel. Imagine the helplessness you feel with Nattie. Now imagine that's what they feel. It can be overwhelming to others, along with tragic."
I get what she's saying. This whole trip to Boston has been eye opening so far. "I get that. I do. But how do I get past it? How do I just let years of shit go?"
"You just... Let it go." She laughs and walks out of the kitchen, and I just wait and replay her words. Why now? What is it that is making all this click?
She returns with a box that I haven't seen in too many years. She places it on the table, and pushes it towards me. "Don't ask me why I kept this, but I did, and I think I need to return it to you."
Grinning, I open the top, and I laugh as I pull item after item out of there. Matchbox cars, poker chips, baseball cards, and all the postcards.
"I totally remember this. I can't believe it." I spread all the goodies out, even the bazooka bubble gum. It brings me back to being ten or so, when life was so simple. But I didn't let it be simple. Even then.
"Mother F? I'm sorry."
She tsks and shakes her head. "Joel, I'm the one who is sorry. I should have tried harder to show you how important and special you were."
I look up at her, and I feel the tears in my eyes. "We both made mistakes. I call it even. A fresh start for us, okay?"
She stands up, crosses around the table and pulls me into a hug. My breathing stops and I just feel. The hug given without reason, the love pushed away, for some stupid kid fears that I never got over. It's all gone.
~~~~~~~~~~
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