A Perfect Day for a Bonfire

A PERFECT DAY FOR A BONFIRE

You never know a good thing until it's gone. Eli pondered that thought while musing sweet memories of his estranged wife's cooking. His mind wandered as he sat on his sofa opposite the fireplace.

  “What are you looking at?” Eli posed the question to the American Bully who was lying at the foot of his fireplace. He was staring at Eli as if wondering when he’d be fed his next meal. Eli took another swig from the glass of Jack Daniels before rising from his living room sofa.   

           He fed the dog, still nameless after Eli took the Pitbull in from the cold a year ago. The animal was company for Eli, though he’d never admit it. His wife, Ruth, left the home two years ago, leaving Eli to himself and the demons that haunted him and drove her away. It would be safe to say that Eli Washington had evolved into a cranky, old man. Sixty-three years old, a true curmudgeon, imbued with a mindset of cynicism and regret. He regretted the inability to erase the past, or at least storylines from the past that led him to his current state of mind; a sense of inadequacy, mollified by anti-depressant meds and, of course, a steady diet of Jack Daniels whiskey.

           It was a brisk Thanksgiving Day. After feeding the dog, Eli sat back down on the sofa and raised his glass of whiskey to his lips. He glanced at his cell phone and turned it on. As he suspected, his estranged wife Ruth had left several voicemails. That’s one reason why Eli hated the holiday season. When it came, dear Ruth seemed to acquire separation anxiety, a deep concern over his being alone during those hallowed days of Publix commercials, turkey feasts and family gatherings. She can’t help herself, Eli thought. Ruth heralded from a large, close-knit family. She met Eli at Grady Memorial Hospital when he was admitted for a blood clot in his left leg. At the time Eli was a staff sergeant stationed at Fort McPherson. Ruth left her career as a nurse practitioner to become a housewife. When the boys left, she went back to work. Her life was revitalized. Eli, on the other hand, found it hard to adjust after retirement from the military when he turned 60. That’s when the demons took over. Soon thereafter, Ruth took refuge at her sister’s home in Sherman town. In between calls to his cell, she was more than likely helping prepare the sumptuous meal at her sister Pearl’s home, located in the village sanctuary where Sherman unleashed his wrath. Eli knew that Ruth’s determination was unwavering, so when his phone rang, he answered.

           “Ruth, what’s up?”

           “What are you doing Eli? I can tell you’ve been drinking, sounding all slurred. Do you want me to bring you a plate?” Same old Ruth, Eli thought. Three words spoken and Ruth could tell he’d been drinking.

           “No, me and dog are cool. Don’t fret about me.”

           “Ain’t frettin’, Eli. You shouldn’t be alone on Thanksgiving. You oughta have somewhere to go, or someone to be with. Eats and treats, that’s what the season is all about.” Ruth’s tone was sincere. “I can bring you a plate, or, pray tell you could get off that couch and drive over here.” Now, Eli was confused. Why the sudden concern? Such offerings weren’t proposed the previous year, although she would call to check on him. But this was different. He could sense her mood as well as she could sense his. He could detect a bit of urgency in Ruth’s tone, despite her attempt to mask it with her customary sarcasm.

           “I’m okay, Ruth. Earl invited me over. Thanks for checking.” Eli didn’t wait for a response. He hung up and turned his phone off. He rose from the couch, grabbed his jacket, and took the dog out for a walk. Despite his arthritic knees, Eli looked forward to walking the dog. He’d let him out back first, allowing the pit to do his business in the confines of his fenced yard. Eli took pride in that fence. He built it twenty years ago, to keep folk out. It was a huge yard, big enough for his sons to play catch while Ruth would grill hamburgers on the deck. Ruth chided him on many occasions, claiming that the fence was Eli’s attempt at keeping them insulated from a world he was skeptical of.

           While he and dog walked, Eli once again ruminated on his many regrets in life. He regretted the hand he was dealt; born the innocent man-child to a drug addicted mother in the housing project of Bankhead Courts and bred in the confines of fleeting expectations. He never knew his father. His mother would speak of him in the spirit of derision and scorn. He regretted that he didn’t attend college, opting to join the Army after working six years in a dead end job at Home Depot. He regretted being the authoritarian asshole who drove his sons away; demanding that they attend college and not follow in his footsteps. They didn’t listen, and did as he did; join the military, travel, and ‘be what they could be’. And whatever that was, it was a way out and away from Chickamauga Drive; the house where Eli lived and reigned supreme. He regretted driving Ruth away, the woman who had stood by him through thick and thin. Ruth would hold him as he awakened from frightful nightmares in a cold sweat, nightmares of death and destruction in Iraq. Ruth begged him to see a therapist at the VA. And now, despite the mental exhaustion which finally drove her away, she would check on him, especially during the holiday season, when mental health issues drove many to commit suicide. The thought had crossed Eli’s mind; a bullet to his brain to end the regrets and nightmares. As he turned the corner and headed back to his house, he resolved to do something that he had thought about doing. It was a perfect day for a bonfire….

The aroma of food permeated Pearl’s home. She and Ruth were practically done preparing the holiday feast. Family members would arrive later that afternoon. Ruth wasn’t studying Eli’s dismissive tone. He outright lied to her saying that Earl and Eva, the next-door neighbors, invited him over for Thanksgiving dinner. Earl had called her earlier that morning, expressing concerns about Eli. He’d been acting strange lately.

           “Ruth, what’s going on with Eli?” Pearl could sense her sister’s uneasiness.

           “I’m worried about Eli, Pearl. Why would he lie and say that Earl invited him to dinner? Earl called me this morning, and ain’t said a word about inviting Eli over. He called and said Eli was behaving strangely. You know Earl. He’s always been nosy, eavesdropping on the backyard from his upstairs bedroom window. He said Eli was piling stuff in the back of the yard last night, throwin’ boxes and stuff while prancin’ around and talking to himself and to that dog he took in. Why pile junk in the yard and not set it out front for trash pickup”? Ruth gave Pearl a bewildered look.

           “Is everything okay? Is he taking his meds?”

           “Hell, I don’t know. That VA is as useless as a bull with tits. A shrink saw him about a year ago, when Eli finally took my advice and went to the VA hospital to see about those nightmares. Post traumatic syndrome is what they determined. They gave him some Valiums and anti-depressant medication and sent him on his way. That was fine with Eli. He’s too damned proud to sit for therapy and try to talk things out.”

           “Too proud.” Pearl sat down at the kitchen table. Ruth remained standing at the stove while stirring the collards. Her cell rang.

           “I’m gonna take this call in the living room.” Ruth answered while walking to the living room and taking a seat on the sectional sofa. She didn’t recognize the number but thought she should answer.

           “Hello.”

           “Hello, is this Mrs. Washington?”

           “Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”

           “This is Dr. Stewart, Eli’s physician at the VA. I’m sorry to be calling on Thanksgiving, Mrs. Washington, but I’m concerned about Eli. Is he alone today, or will you have an opportunity to speak with him? I know that the two of you are separated.”

           “Well, yes, now you said you were Eli’s doctor. I was under the impression that he only came to the VA to get refills on his meds. I didn’t know he was seeing someone. Who did you say you were, and what kind of doctor are you?”

           “I’m Dr. Stewart, ma’am. I’m a board-certified psychiatrist at the VA clinic located on Claremont Road. Eli has been seeing me twice a week for the past four months. He insisted on changing his meds, saying they made him lethargic. He claimed that they seemed to increase the frequency of the nightmares he’d been having. That’s why he was referred to me.”

           “It’s probably the Jack Daniels making him feel that way.”

           “Yes, I have admonished him to restrict his alcohol intake. But of greater concern, and the purpose for my call, is the anti-depressant medication he’s currently taking. This past week the FDA issued an immediate recall on the medication, now determined to worsen suicidal ideations. I’ve left several voicemails trying to reach Eli and tell him to cease taking the pills. You were my last resort. He left your name and contact number.”

           “Doctor Stewart, you said the drug worsens suicidal ideations. Has Eli expressed such thoughts to you? I know about the confidentiality aspect, but I’m concerned. Our neighbor told me that he’s been acting strange lately.”

           “Really, and how so?”

           “He’s been piling junk in the backyard and talking to himself and to a rescue dog that can only stare back at him. He’s become a recluse. They say that holidays have a tendency to strain feelings of loneliness, and in my ex’s case, despair. He’s a man full of regrets, Dr. Stewart.”

           “Aren’t we all, Mrs. Washington, full of regrets that is. It’s not the regrets themselves, but rather our interpretation of them that brings about either positive or destructive behavior. When Eli first came to me, all he wanted was for me to adjust his medications. I was able to convince him that outpatient therapy, in conjunction with taking his meds, could benefit him greatly. Anyway, during our last visit, a week ago, Eli shared a recurring dream he’s been having. In the dream, Eli collected all the baggage that reminded him of his regrets and painful memories and burned them all in his backyard. He watched the blaze from his deck, sat in a chair and blew his brains out. This was the first time Eli mentioned any thoughts of taking his life, and this was a dream, not something expressed concretely during any of our prior sessions. However, in light of the anti-depressant medication, now under a strict recall, I am a bit concerned since I haven’t been able to reach him. Have you spoken with him?”

           “Yes, I have. He sounded normal, but, oh my God, Earl said that Eli had been piling boxes of junk in the backyard. He lied to me and said he was going next door to Earl’s for Thanksgiving. He’s alone, Doc. I’d best get over there to check on him. Thanks for calling, Dr. Stewart.”

           “You’re quite welcome. Do me a favor, give me a call at this number and let me know that you’ve seen him and please tell him to stop taking the anti-depressant meds.”

           “I will, Doc. Goodbye.” Ruth hung up and returned to the kitchen.

           “Pearl, I’ve got to head over to Eli’s and make sure he doesn’t do anything crazy.”

           “Crazy! Like what, Ruth?”

           “Like blowing his brains out.”

Ruth could see the billowing smoke rising from the backyard on Chickamauga Drive. Tears welled in her eyes. The old fool went and did it, she thought. Eli’s life, like the junk, gone up in smoke.  The regrets, the loneliness and the abject cynicism, all gone. A sense of guilt suddenly gripped the core of her gut as she thought that she should have never left him.  ‘Where were you, when I needed you’, was the Main Ingredient ballad that played in her mind. She and Eli would listen to that album, and to that song. She had left Eli to his demons, and now they had consumed him.

           She approached the front door and rang the doorbell; in her mind an exercise in futility since Eli, by now, was more than likely slumped over in a lounge chair with a self-inflicted bullet to his head. She didn’t have a key but remembered where they used to leave a spare. Sure enough, a spare key was in the hanging flowerpot to the right of the door. She entered and made her way to the sliding glass door which led to the backyard. She stood on the deck and was taken aback. Eli was sitting in a chair on the grass, leaning back while watching the blaze of fire engulfing a five-foot diametric circle. The dog was lying next to him. He rose quickly as soon as he noticed Ruth, but Eli deftly grabbed him by the collar. Ruth stepped off the deck and walked to where Eli and the dog were. 

           “Settle down, Lucky,” Eli remained seated. The dog resumed his relaxed comportment while Eli stroked the heart shaped white spot at the top of his broad chest. Ruth approached Eli and the dog. Eli was speechless. He was surprised to see Ruth. Ruth wasn’t lost for words.

           “Eli, what the hell are you doing?”

           “Ruth, what are you doing here? Let me guess, you brought me and Lucky some Thanksgiving dinner.” Eli was grinning ear to ear, something Ruth hadn’t seen in years.

           “No, I didn’t bring anything. Truth is, I was worried. I tried calling but your phone is off.” She didn’t reveal that it was his therapist who had been trying to reach him.

           “Ruth, I told you that me and Lucky were good. I’ve been clearing out the basement to give Lucky his own space. I even converted that back door to the basement to one that opens and closes at the bottom. That way he can come and go into the yard. Nothing like a bonfire on a cool day. Looks like we’ll have to roast some marshmallows and wieners since you didn’t bring us any food.” 

           “So, you’re just burning those boxes of junk you had in the basement?”

           “Yep, boxes of old Army paraphernalia, books, paperwork from ten years ago, and the like.” Eli rose from his chair and reached into his right pants pocket. “And last but not least, I’m getting rid of these.” Eli tossed the prescription of anti-depressant meds into the fire.

           “Eli, did you just throw some pills away?”

           “Hell yeah, the damn pills make me depressed. They were making me have weird dreams. I didn’t tell you, Ruth, but I been seeing this doctor. I can’t explain it, but he’s helping me to look at things from a different perspective, so to speak. He calls it cognitive restructuring, or something like that. He had me write down negative thoughts on small strips of paper, and at week’s end, put them in a brown bag. He told me to keep the bag, and when I was ready to meet those negative thoughts head on, I could throw them away, symbolically ridding myself of thoughts that keep my spirits low. I threw the bag in the fire, along with the other trash.” Now, it was Ruth who was speechless. After a minute of silence, she spoke.

           “Well, I’ll be. Since when did you give that dog a name?”

           “On this very day. I decided to name him Lucky. I felt it appropriate. He was lucky since he was abandoned and found a home with me. And the more I think about it, I’m lucky too; lucky to have his company. It doesn’t matter how bad I feel, or how cranky my mood, Lucky is right here, by my side. Doc says a pet gives unconditional love. He’s right, Ruth.”  Ruth quickly wiped a tear away. She was too proud to let Eli know how happy she was that he was okay, that he hadn’t blown his brains out. She couldn’t live with him but couldn’t bear the thought of being in a world without him.

           “And you know something, Ruth, I’m a lucky dude to still have you in my life. Who else do I have to come by and check on me. I’m sure the boys would, if they were stateside.” Eli couldn’t believe how good Ruth looked. Her gray, short Afro belied her flawless, caramel toned skin, which complemented an oval shaped face blessed with high cheek bones, full lips and a button nose. She was sixty-seven, four years older than Eli, but looked more like forty-seven. Stylish jeans perfectly fit a slender, 5’8” build and her cashmere sweater hugged round, curvaceous hips.

           “The boys are just a phone call away, Eli. They always ask about you.”

           “Yeah, I know. That’s one of the negative thoughts I wrote down. My boys don’t love me, and another, they don’t want to hear from me. Doc challenged me to provide an ounce of evidence to support those thoughts.”

           “Seems like seeing that doctor is doing you some good, Eli. Make sure to tell him you threw out those meds. You still going over to Earl’s for dinner? That’s what you told me, remember?”

           “I just told you that so you wouldn’t worry about me being alone, is all. But here you are, Ruth, concerned about me, a fool who labors on what he regrets, instead of being thankful for what he has.”

           “That’s what I thought you were burning, memories of the past, stuff that reminded you of all the regrets you have.”

           “I’m tired, Ruth. Regrets are like aches in your bones that never stop. I wrote ‘em down, Ruth, and now they’re in that fire.”

           “I guess Thanksgiving is a good day for this reckoning. Burn the demons and give thanks for the good. You said I was part of that good, Eli, so where does that leave us?”

           “Ruth, you didn’t marry a mental giant. I don’t know much, but I do know that I’m ready and willing to put in the work to get my life together. But it won’t mean a thing if I don’t have you back in my life; if this doesn't lead to a new beginning for us.”

           “I can roll with that. I’m willing to take this journey with you, Eli. I’m going to head back to Pearl’s for a while. Then I’ll pack a meal and bring it back, if that’s okay with you. We can eat, give thanks, and talk things out.”

           “Ruth, that’s a great idea. Something told me that this would be a perfect day for a bonfire.”