At the Bottom of a Wishing Well

"Hi, my name is Dustin and I'm an alcoholic." He said as he sighed and closed his eyes.  He had no desire to look at any members of the group.  One of the old timers had decorated the room with Christmas cheer, a mocking reminder of his New Year's resolution to quit drinking.  That had not happened and with a week left of the crumbs old year passing, Dustin Wenton was still drinking despite two tours of rehab.  All he could smell was his failing liver trying to metabolize the quart of vodka he had for lunch, just before the boss fired him.  Merry Christmas, Wenton, here's your final check. Screw the rent, ho, ho, ho.

"Dustin, have you been drinking?" Mitch Gallaghar, the meeting chair asked with one eye cocked.

"To be honest, yes." Dustin hung his head in shame.

"You know the rules, you cannot attend if you are under the influence." Mitch shook his bearded and balding head.

"I am aware, but I am swimming at the bottom of the wishing well." He ran his hand over his face.

"Be that as it may, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave." Mitch folded his hands in front of him.  Dustin stood up and sighed, "I'm sorry, but those are the rules."

"Wait." Vivian spoke out, "He seems sober enough now."

She made no secret of the fact she was sweet on Dustin who was about her age.  Vivian's drinking had cost her a marriage and three office manager jobs.  Dustin was a hack who knew all the highlights of the city.

"You see, I lost my job this afternoon because I was drinking.  Going on the twelve steps, I will admit I am an alcoholic." He sighed again before continuing, "I made A New Year's resolution that I would quit drinking.  I have one week left."

Mitch chuckled, "You don't have much time."

"Don't you think I know that?" Dustin snapped.

"We are all here for the same reason, to get support so we stay sober." Mitch ran his hand through his thinning gray hair, "Why didn't you call your sponsor?"

"It was crazy down at dispatch with all the holiday customers.  And if you think they are jolly with the Christmas spirit and tip well, all I can say is that Ebenezer Scrooge would be a better fare." He ran his hand over his face to wipe away the sweat on his forehead. "After all the crap I've been through the past few hours, I needed to come to a meeting."

"Let him stay." Vivian begged.

"And set a bad precedent?  I think not." Mitch slapped the big red book in his lap.  Once a bonafide hippie, Mitch had become a turncoat, joining the establishment's love of rules. In one group, Mitch told them that he had gone to Woodstock.  No one knew if that was really true, but it didn't really matter since no one could depend on a drunk's memory of the past.  Remembering yesterday was difficult enough for him as it was.

Seeing no alternative offered, Dustin walked out the glass door onto the wet sidewalk where a steady flow of foul rain mixed with sleet fell on him from the heavens.  In another block, Dustin would pass The Thirsty Swan, one of his favorite watering holes. Ron the owner had decorated the big window with cheesy holiday decorations that was there to attract attention as if Dustin needed further enticement.  

"Happy holidays." Bob Terlop greeted him as Dustin sat at an empty barstool, "What can I get you, Duss?"

"Tonic and water, easy on the water." He looked around at the nearly empty bar.

"Coming right up, boss." He nodded, placing A glass on the bar, filling it with whiskey and a splash of water, "Where have you been?"

"An AA meeting." Dustin took the drink from the bartender's hand.

"Doesn't sound like paying attention." Bob put his hands on the bar.

"Doesn't matter." He shrugged as he took a healthy swallow of his drink.

"You made a resolution about quitting last year? I was right here when you made it." Bob smiled and wiped a spot off the highly polished, glossy hardwood.

"You have quite a memory, doncha?" Dustin polished off the rest of his drink.   

"It's not easy to quit." Bob shook his head, "I quit ten years ago and I still have the urge every now and then.  All I remember is all the things I lost when I was drinking." 

This did not make Dustin feel any better, but he supposed this was all part of it, the DUIs, the blackouts, the shakes, and whatever else went with swimming at the bottom of a wishing well.

"Is your name Dustin Wenton?" A stranger sitting at the bar asked Dustin.

"Do I know you?" 

"I kinda doubt it." He handed Dustin his business card.  

"Ezikiel Rausch?" Dustin read the name on the card aloud.

"That's me." He drank from a glass.

"From Redeemer Associates."

"That is correct as well." He winked at Dustin.

"What is this all about?" Dustin signaled Bob for another drink.  Bob nodded.

"It's the holidays." Ezekiel shrugged, "And I am on the lookout for people who may need some assistance."

"Really?" Dustin could not hide his disinterest.

"You seem like you could use a friend." He tilted his head.

"Sorry pal, I don't need A friend." Dustin smirked as Bob put his drink in front of him.

"Fired from the cab company?" Ezekiel sniffed.  Dustin grabbed the stranger by his lapels.

"Look pal, I don't know who you are or what charity you work with, but I don't need no one poking around in my business, got that?" Dustin wouldn't let go until he noticed he no longer had a hold of Ezekiel's coat.

"Seems to me, you do need a friend." He brushed off the wrinkles left by Dustin's grip. "I've got three associates willing to help."

"What do I need help with?" Dustin was spooked by the stranger's ability to escape his grip so easily.  

"This evening there is a full moon with the planets aligned." He pointed to the ceiling where the stars lingered just above the roof of The Thirsty Swan. "Any promises or resolutions must be kept." 

"Aw, you don't know me very well.  Every year I make A resolution to quit drinking, but before the end of the second week of January, I am drunk." Putting his elbows on the bar, Dustin sank his head between his shoulders.

"You are obligated." Ezekiel drained his glass.

"What about you?" Dustin pointed to the empty glass in front of Ezekiel.

"Just soda, no booze." He held up the empty glass.

"Are you in recovery?"   

"No, just thirsty from my trip." He twirled on his stool. "I am a visitor from the present.  I was sent to answer your resolution." Ezekiel smiled at Dustin.

"Present?" Dustin allowed himself a smirk.  Something was going on.  Someone was playing a joke on him.  Where were the hidden cameras? When he looked over at Ezekiel, he saw the stranger was gone. "What the-"

"Are you Dustin Wanton?" A dumpy looking man with glasses asked.

"Yes, I'm Dustin Wanton." Dustin tilted his head to study the man sitting on the stool Ezekiel had just vacated.

"Amos Tooton at your service." He tipped his oversized hat. "I am here to assist you." 

"I don't need assistance." Dustin shook his head.

"Nope, says right here, I must assist you." He pointed to a piece of paper he was holding, but the writing was much too small for Dustin to read. "When did you have your first drink?"

"That's none of your business, pal." Dustin averred.

He was standing in his father's office with two school chums as Dustin opened the liquor cabinet with a key he swiped from his father's desk drawer.  Pulling out an expensive bottle of brandy, Dustin poured his friends a glass. His parents were out for the evening and they were going to have a party with some fine brandy.  After a couple of snifters, the boys were stumbling drunk.

"I was grounded for a month when he found out, but it was all worth it." Dustin watched his sixteen year old self stumble and fall face first on the carpet.

"Was it now?" Amos put his chubby fingers to his multiple chins. "From here things only got more problematic." 

The army doctor paged through the report and shook his head.  Then he called out, "Guards, bring in the prisoner."

Much to his chagrin, Dustin saw the prisoner was him.  It was over ten years ago when he was given a general discharge from the army for multiple drunk and disorderly charges.

"Private Wanton, in a medical review of your records and recommendations from your commanding officer, I am signing your discharge papers." The doctor said.

"I don't even remember the doctor's name." Dustin trembled as he watched as he took the papers from the doctor.  A cab was waiting for him at the gate. 

"My dad was so disappointed.  He was a veteran of the war in the Pacific.  My career did not last a year." Dustin hung his head in shame. 

When he brought his eyes up, he was seated on a bar stool at The Thirsty Swan where the jukebox was playing "I Wish That I Was Sober" by Frightened Rabbit.  

"You know the past does not have to define us." Amos shrugged.

"My father is dead.  When he passed away, he called me a loser." .Dustin sighed, but when he looked uo, Amos was no longer there. "Bob."

"What can I do for you?" He stood in front of Dustin behind the bar.

"Did you see that guy sitting next to me just now?" Dustin pointed to the empty stool.

A troubled expression overtook Bob's face, " The bar has been almost empty the entire night. I haven't seen anyone occupy the stool next to you." 

The color drained from Dustin's face, "You must be joking.  He was just sitting right there."

"Sorry, I haven't seen anyone." He shook his head, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to."

"Ezra Canabee.  Sir, is this seat taken?" The tall slender man dressed in formal attire sat himself in the vacant stool, "You must be Dustin Wanton."

"I am, but I am getting tired of the games." His tone was sharp.

"Sorry, what games?" Ezra shrugged.

"Two other of your associates have sat next to me, but no one can see them...except for me." Dustin let out a long sigh.

"Sounds dreadful." Ezra grimaced.  

"It's because I drink too much.  The doctor warned me one day I'd start to see things, things that are not real."

"I assure you that I am real." Ezra assured him with a pat on the back. "I am here to forecast your future should you continue to drink."

"Why is everyone so concerned about my drinking?" Dustin buried his head in his hands.

"It was you who made the resolution." Ezra smiled. "If you continue to drink, you will come to regret and fear what the future will bring.

Standing in front of a familiar apartment door of Gavin Franklin, the building superintendent Dustin. rang his bell several times before he opened his door.

"What do you want?" He snarled.  Dressed in a grease stained t-shirt and jeans with more holes than denim with a cigarette burning in between his filthy hands.

"I need you to remove the padlock from my apartment door." Dustin pointed down the hall.

"No, you are over three months behind on your rent." He blew smoke in Austin's face.

"I'll have the money." Dustin argued.

"When?" Mr. Franklin dropped the cigarette into a bucket next to the door with some water in it.  It was extinguished with an angry hiss.

"My brother, Al, is wiring the money."  Dustin assured him.

"Until I see greenbacks in my hand that lock stays put." He went to close the door but Dustin put his body as a barrier.

When he blinked, Dustin was in his brother's apartment sitting on the couch with Peggy, his wife.

"Did you wire your brother the money?" She asked as she pressed the television remote. 

"Are you kidding?  That deadbeat drunk?  I only told him I would so I could hang up the phone." Am chuckled as he turned the page on the magazine he was reading.

"Lying to your own brother, you can go to Hell for that." She laughed.

"And keep him company?  No thanks."

They both began to laugh.  It felt as if he had been punched in the gut.

"Seems like a rather cruel chap." Ezra shrugged.

"I suppose he could have been nicer to me as we grew up." Dustin shook his head and remembered some of the mean things Al did to him, "He was my older brother."  

Reverend Jonas McCullum was walking away from a cemetery plot where mourners were still milling about.  

“Such a shame.” He shook his head.

“Hey, there’s Mitch Gallaghar and the other members of the group.” Dustin tugged at Ezra’s sleeve.

“I kinda feel bad.” One of the women in the group sniffed.

“That’s Jennifer.  She worked at The Thirsty Swan.” He whispered into Ezra’s ear.

“No matter, he was beyond redemption.” Mitch put his hat on his head to cover his shiny bald spot. “He kept coming to the group, but he was seldom sober.”

“Who are they talking about?” Dustin felt as if he had been struck by a bolt of lightning. “It’s me, isn’t it?”

Ezra smiled and shrugged. As he approached the open grave, Dustin realized that the crowd was a lot smaller than he first thought.

“Hard to believe your brother is gone.” A woman with her face concealed by a black veil replied. In horror, he realized Peggy was talking to his brother Al.  

“It is me.” He hung his head looking into the open grave occupied with his coffin.

“Hard to feel sorry for him at this point.” Al muttered still within earshot. “I told him to give it up, but he just laughed at me.” 

“It wasn’t your fault, Al.” Peggy took his arm as they walked to their Audi parked in the cemetery parking lot. 

“Things would have been different if only he had listened to me.” Al shook his head.

“I know dear.” Peggy patted him on the arm.  

They were gone and Dustin was alone with Ezra.  Sitting in one of the folding chairs with Garrett Funeral Services stamped on the back, Ezra folded his hands between his knees.

“Is there any hope?” Dustin asked in a panic.

“There is always hope.” Ezra dusted off his pants’ legs with his open hand. 

“I sure as Hell don’t feel it.” Dustin shook his head sitting next to his guide.

“You have to have hope and it seems you have abandoned it.” Ezra shrugged. “There is only one place I know of where all hope is abandoned.”

Dustin rolled his eyes. “I don’t get why you are here if this is the way it is supposed to be.” 

“I came to show you what may be, if you don’t keep your resolution.” Ezra nodded. 

“My resolution?” Dustin huffed. “I made it, but as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew that I didn’t have the strength to see it through.” 

“Or the courage.” Ezra held up a finger in front of Dustin’s face, “You may have some storms brewing on the horizon,  but if you are true to yourself you won’t sink into a sea of despair.”

“How can you say that?” Dustin stomped his foot and a small avalanche of dirt went into his grave and ran along his casket. “My whole life has been an uphill trek and just when I think I have reached the summit, I see the path in front of me.  Hope?  I had hope, but it was beaten out of me.” 

“When you start feeling sorry for yourself, the battle is lost.” Ezra patted Dustin on the back.  When Dustin looked up from the grave, Ezra was no longer in sight.  

Mitch Gallaghar stood up to address the group sitting in the folding chairs arranged in a circle.  Cleaning his throat, he prepared to address the group, “Ladies and gentlemen of my AA group, it gives me great pleasure to present one of the members with their year chip.”  

He held up the year chip as the rest of the group applauded.

“I never did think he would ever be presented with this, but I am honored to do so.  Dustin Wanton.”

Dustin came to his feet.

“Last year he promised to quit drinking and now he has proof that he has made it.” He handed Dustin the chip.

“At this time last year, I was at the bottom of a wishing well.” Dustin held the chip in his hand, “I never thought I could ever do it, but here it is.”

More applause.

“I learned about empathy.” He waited until the applause faded, “Empathy does not come from the person who throws you a rope when you are treading water in the bottom of the wishing well.  No, it is the person willing to jump in the well with you and join you in your struggle.” 

Everyone in the group stood up and applauded.

Again Dustin waited until they had taken their seats again, “I won this today, but I know how easily it can be lost.” 

He tossed the coin in the air and caught it. 

.