One for the Road

  As conciseness begin to creeps back, I open my eyes a crack. My head lays upon my folded arms that are resting on the bar. I try lifting my head, but it feels like it weighs a million pounds. Smacking my lips, I realize just how badly I need a drink. 

Pushing myself away from the bar, I sit up straight.  I see the bartender’s back as he washes some dishes. In front of me sits a glass of what looks like tomato juice. “Ahh,” I think. “A Bloody Mary, just what I need!”

           Two shaking and trembling hands reach out and grab the glass and slowly drag it back toward me. I watch all of this as through someone else’s eyes.  

Rather than trying to lift the glass, I bend down to it and take a sip. I bark, “Hey, bartender! Where’s the vodka in this drink? It tastes awful!”

           Grinning, the bartender turns and greets me. “Ahh, Ralph, you’re awake!  I was starting to wonder there for a minute. Oh, and about the drink, this is an alcohol-free bar.”

           Running my fingers through my hair, I shake my head. “Alcohol-free? Why in hell would I come into an alcohol-free bar? It doesn’t make any sense! And who the hell are you that you know my name?” The bartender continues to smile at me as I take a look around. I see it’s not a bar at all, but a small room with a five-foot bar, two stools, and him! There aren’t any tables or chairs, and I’m the only person here. I close one eye to get a better look at him.

 “Look! I don’t understand what is going on here, but I need a drink, and I need it now!” I feel a wave of nausea building inside of me. “I think I’m going to be sick.” The bartender touches my shoulder and says, “You’ll be alright.” And I am. The feeling passes. “I don’t know who you are, pal, but I’ve never seen you before in my life.”

           “That’s true. You have never ever met me, but I know all about you, Ralph.  So many times I’ve tried to tell you to stop drinking, but you just never listened to me. Now look where you are.”

“Where do you get off talking to me like that?" Through half-lidded eyes, I scowl at him. "What kind of gibberish are you spouting away? I’ve got to get out of here and find a real drink. Where’s the goddamn door?”

Holding up his hands, he tries to appease me. “Ralph, please try to calm down. I’m sure you’re not doing yourself any good. The doctors are fighting to keep you alive! They don’t need your blood pressure going any higher than it already is.”

“Keeping me alive? What the hell are you talking about?’ The bartender hitches his thumb toward the wall on my left, and a scene appears there. I see someone lying on a bed in a brightly lit emergency room with doctors all around him. They’ve got an intravenous started, an oxygen machine, and a monitor. The nurse is injecting something into a bag hanging from a hook. The whole room looks in chaos. 

I vigorously scratch my head and growl, “What the hell kind of a trick is this? Is that supposed to be me? How can that be me in a hospital when I’m sitting right here with you?” The bartender shakes his head solemnly, “It’s no trick, Ralph. You are in the hospital right this very minute. Only your soul is here with me.”

I lean back in my chair and open my mouth because I can’t believe my ears! “So- so what are you then, some kind of an angel?”

“Yes, Ralph, I am. My name is Steven, and I’ve been your guardian angel since you were born. Over the years, I’ve been able to lead you down the right path on many occasions. It’s just this drinking thing. I’ve never been able to make you listen to me, to make you stop! I’ve tried so many, many times, but you’ve never heard me. That’s why you’re in the hospital tonight. You drank until you passed out and fell down a flight of stairs. The next few minutes will determine whether you return or not to the living.”

“And if I don’t make it?”

“Then you’ll be in the hands of God. He’ll determine what’s to become of you. It will be out of my hands.”

Perspiration starts trickling down the side of my face. “Now, hold on! Let’s talk this over. I mean, I was never that bad. I never hurt anyone! Actually, I’m a pretty nice guy, ya know?”

Steven leans back and folds his arms across his chest.  So, you never hurt anyone. 

Well, what about your wife, Gwen? Didn’t she beg and plead with you to stop drinking? To stop spending all the household money on buying drinks for all your so-called friends down at the bar? But you didn’t, did you? No, you were having too much fun. That’s why, even though she loved you, she divorced you because someone had to earn money for food for her and your daughter. And speaking of your daughter, Gail, did you know she never loved you? That’s right! Why should she love a father who never spent time with her or cared about her schoolwork or her interestes? 

Remember when you told her that you would be at the school play? She had the lead part, and you promised to be there. But you never showed up. In fact, your wife had to leave the play to go and bail you out of jail.

Yeah, you never hurt anyone. How about at Pat Joe Murphy’s pub on St Patrick’s Day? You got mad at poor old Mr. Bishop and punched him in the face? Ralph, you had been needling him all night and, when he got sick of it, he told you, “Shut up, you lousy drunk!” So you hit him. The man was seventy-five! You caused him ten thousand dollars in medical expences! Yet, you say you never hurt anybody. I remember the next day, you couldn’t figure out how your knuckles got so swollen. 

When you got your third DUI, the judge pulled your driver’s license for a year and ordered you to attend AA. You had to go to a meeting three times a week, get the chairperson to sign your slip, and date it to prove you were there. 

So, what did you do? Did you get a sponsor? No. Did you do the twelve-step program? No. Did you ever even speak to another person about your drinking? 

NO! What you did do was get a cup of coffee, get your slip of paper signed, and went home. When the time came for you to get your license back, you went to the package store and bought a bottle of Morgan David 20/20, and you were off and running for the next six years. Until tonight, that is. No, Ralph, I’m afraid it’s too late for you now.”

Grimacing, I grab Steven by the shirt. “ No, no! You got to help me! I can’t die. I don’t want to die!"

“Ralph, it’s not up to me anymore. If you are genuinely going to beg for mercy, then you have to ask God Himself.   

I sob loudly. “God! Oh, dear God! I don’t want to die like this, drunk and alone. Please, give me one more chance, just one. You can punish me anyway You want, but just let me live.” Clinging to the barstool, I sob uncontrollably.

“Ralph, look! Is that your ex-wife I see coming in the emergency doors?” Wiping away my tears with the backs of my hands, I look at the wall. I see Gwen walk over to the desk nurse and start talking. 

“Let’s listen to what she’s saying,” adds Steven.

“Pardon me, nurse, but I received a phone call that Ralph Anderson was admitted here tonight. May I ask what for, is he alright?”

“Are you the patient’s wife?”

“I’m his ex-wife, so I don’t understand why I was called.” The nurse looks at her charts. “It says here he had an emergency card with your name. If you hold on for a moment, I will get his doctor to speak with you.” As we watch, Gwen fidgets with her gloves, checks her wristwatch and glances at the emergency doors as if about to leave. Her eyes open wide when the doctor addresses her. “Hello, Mrs. Anderson. I’m Doctor Agarwal. Shaking the doctor’s hand, she corrects him. “I’m Mrs. Dobson now. I’ve remarried. Tell me, why did Ralph have you call me? I haven’t seen him in the past six years. How did you get my number?”  

“When we were looking for identification, we found your phone number in his wallet and called you. It seems that your hus-eh, Ralph, was drinking when he passed out and fell down several concrete steps hitting his head. This caused a great deal of swelling in his brain, which we have gotten under control. However, due to that, there surely are going to be complications. Such as difficulty with speech and walking.” 

Gwen glances down. “Well, that’s all very sad, but I’ve remarried. I loved Ralph once, but he killed that love with his drinking. I’ve moved on and want nothing more to do with him.” And with that, Gwen turned and walked out the doors.

As the emergency room fades, Steven congratulates Ralph. “Looks as though the Lord has answered your prayers, buddy. You get to live.” I stare at the spot where I saw Gwen walk away.

“Get to live? I won’t be able to speak or walk properly. I’ll be a cripple!” 

Scratching his cheek with his thumb, Steven scowls. Hey! You did say, "under any punishment." 

It’s time to go back.”

About a week later, I regain consciousness. I spend the next month in the hospital until they released me into rehab. I stay about two months there until my insurance runs out. My speech is slurred, and I use a walker because I drag my left foot. Outside the rehab hospital, a taxi is waiting to take me home.

The cabbie calls, “Are you Mr. Anderson?” Out of the corner of my mouth, I slur, “Yeah, that’s me.” The cabbie swiftly opens the back door for me. I tell him to forget it, I’m going to walk.

“But it’s all paid for.”

“That’s alright, just use the money to buy yourself a drink.” He shrugs his shoulders and drives away as I shuffle down the block.

  It’s hard walking because I’m still weak, and dragging my left foot takes a lot of effort. It is pretty slow going but I reach the end of the block and look to my right.

 Bingo! A package store. They told me in rehab that if I ever went on another drinking spree, it would probably kill me. Well, so be it. A tear runs down my cheek as I look to the heavens, “Steven, old boy, it seems I won’t be drinking in your juice bar anymore. Thanks for everything.”

The little bell above the door announces my arrival as I enter the store.