The Hard Goodbye

We sat around in a circle like we always did on Wednesday in the conference room of the Y.M.C.A.  A few of us joked around about some of the more ridiculous events of our past week and how staying sober seemed like a full time occupation.  Jimmy talked about his boss just as he always did before the meeting was called order.  Brenda was this week’s chairperson.  She was busy discussing some of the issues brought up at our last meeting.  Bette was flirting with Stan and I was in the smoking area outside with Curt who was one of the senior members of the group.

We both saw him before the others as he edged his way toward the door.  He was tentative in his approach, but a lot of new members were shy.  It takes real courage to recite the twelve steps.

“Hey, my name is Curt.” He took a step toward the new guy.

“I’m Sal.” He saw as his eyes darted about, “I’m looking for the AA meeting.” 

“Sal, you’ve come to the right place.” Curt grinned, but his cordial manner was not well received. 

“Yeah, well, a friend of mine told me to come.” He ducked his head into the shadow.  It was twilight and the shadows outnumbered the illuminated places.

“Glad you could make it.  My name is Adam.” I held out my hand, but Sal just looked at it before I decided to put it in my coat pocket.  There was a seasonal chill rising up in the air.

“If I don’t seem friendly, I apologize.” He swallowed his last word and glanced up meeting my eyes, “You see I just had to say a hard goodbye.”

I could see he was emotional about that hard goodbye.

“Maybe you could tell us during the meeting?” Curt shrugged.

“I suppose.” He did not sound too enthusiastic at the prospect.  He twitched and rocked on his feet. “I’m sorry. It’s just I never thought I’d be here.” 

“It’s a first step for most of us.” I nodded.

“No, that’s not it.” He took a sharp breath in as he put his fingers to the corner of his mouth.

“Are you gents about ready to get started?” Brenda asked.

“Yup.” Curt nodded.

“Maybe this was a mistake.” Sal sniffed and turned away.

“You don’t have to come inside if you’re not ready.” Brenda said as Sal turned his back, appearing to be leaving.

“I just don’t know what to do about what I’m feeling.” He bowed his head.

“It’s okay, sir.” Brenda nodded. “This program isn’t for everybody.”

“That’s not it.” He let out a long labored exhale, “I just had to say goodbye to someone I treasured.” 

“Why don’t you come inside and tell us about…that is if you are up for it.” Curt urged him.

“You don’t have to speak if you don’t want to.” Brenda said sympathetically.

He first looked left and then right. Closing his eyes, he nodded, “Perhaps I will join your group.  I could use some company.” 

Sal followed us through the door.  Bette was at the table with a Sharpie and some stickers used as name tags. “Hey there Curt and Adam.  Glad you could make it.” 

She handed us our stickers with our names on them.  She then turned to Sal, “And who might you be?”

“Sal.  Sal Medina.” He smiled.

“Welcome to our Wednesday night group, Sal.” She wrote his name on one of the stickers. “Glad you could make it.” 

He smiled and nodded as he peeled the sticker and put it on his jacket.

“Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get started.” Brenda stood at the podium, “I am excited, because we have a newcomer, Sal.” 

There was a spatter of applause from the twenty of us sitting in metal chairs arranged in a circle.  Sal sat near the podium while Curt and I sat together near the coffee urn.  

Brenda had us all recite the Serenity Prayer before having us all take our seats.  Her voice was cheerful as she announced sobriety chips awarded to two of our faithful members.  Royce received his one year chip while Doris got her five year chip met with a standing ovation. 

“Five years, Doris.  I am so proud.” Brenda kissed Doris on the cheek, “Five year is a big one, but with it comes a warning that this is the point when a lot of us fall due to the mounting pressure.  Please reach out if you need support.” 

“I will.” She held up her new chip before taking her seat.

I noticed that Sal shifted uneasily in his chair. 

“I am so proud of both Doris and Royce for their determination to stay clean and sober.” She pushed a bit before dropping her smile and peering out at the members. “We who live by this twelve step program know how difficult it can be to remain clean and sober, but the satisfaction can be worth it.”

“It’s bullshit.” Sal spoke out in anger.  At first Brenda appeared flush even though she wore heavy makeup on her spreading face. Working as a financial advisor, her job required her to look her best at all times and this would carry over to our meeting.

“Mr. Medina, do you wish to add anything at this time?” Her voice was shaky, but Breda did not let her facial expression reveal the utter revulsion and shock caused by Sal’s outburst. 

Sal sat there with his head almost sunk between his knees. 

“I wish to apologize.” He stood up with his hands shoved in his trouser pockets and his eyes staring down at his work boots, “I am going through a rough time.” 

Tears filled his dark brown eyes that seemed to soften under the light. Twenty sets of eyes all focused on the short man who was in distress.  While empathy tells us not to pay attention, at the same time, the sincere display of emotions makes it difficult to look away.   

“I came tonight.” He paused as he tried to control his emotion, “Because I had…a. Hard.  Goodbye.” 

Each word sounded as if it had been torn from his soul. I had seen a lot of raw emotion expressed during some of our meetings, but Sal Medina seemed as if the tempest inside him was breaking out of him, forcing him to choke on his words, because words could not adequately convey what he was feeling at this moment. Each of us felt the strong urge to reach out to him and comfort whatever raw emotion he was feeling as he stood there shaking. 

Silence replaced the rage that had erupted from inside him. We all felt a unified helplessness as if he was drowning before our eyes. 

“I do not want to tell you this.” He closed his eyes as tears streamed down his face, “But if I hold this inside, it will rend me apart for sure.” 

Larry the night janitor poked his head into the room, something he had never done before and asked, “Is everything alright?” 

Brenda waved him away.  Larry just nodded and exited without another word.  

“Do you wanna know why I am here?” Sal asked as he looked around the circle.  Brenda nodded. “I’ll tell you why.”

He paused as he removed a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and wiped his glistening forehead. He coughed before resuming, “I killed my son.:”

Silence covered us like a blanket.

“I didn’t mean to, but my ma told me Hell is paved with good intentions and fate always plays the winning hand.” He allowed himself a brief smile and nod before continuing.  He looked at Brenda as he remained standing with the handkerchief still in his hand.

“He was a preemie.  Weighed two pounds when we brought him home from the hospital, Christine and I.  We named him Kyle, but when he was six he went on a camping trip with me when he shot his first buck and so I called him Bucky ever since.” He dropped his head for a moment,  “We done everything together.  Boy Scouts, Little League, Community Soccer. Name it, we did it. Hmpt. But I guess I kinda neglected Christine in the process so when he turned ten years old, I moved out.  Bucky could not understand the politics of the whole situation.  He was only ten. Only ten.  I told him mommy and me fell out of love, but he could not accept that. Fact is, neither could I, which is when I started to drink. I could wrap myself in this warm cocoon and pretend life didn’t suck.  But then I’d pick him up for one of his activities and he’d sit there staring out the window not sayin’ nothing.”

He took a breath and wiped his face again. 

“It got to be a chore.  One I did not care for since I had to deal with Chrissie’s ice shoulder and then Bucky’s silent treatment.” He shrugged, “One day he tells me not to bother come getting him since his Uncle Leo bought him a bicycle for his birthday.  Chintzy bastard couldn’t float me a loan to pay my gas bill.” Everyone could see him bite his tongue as he spoke. He wiped his brow again as he shook his head, “There a chumps out there just like me who always seem to get the dirty end of the stick, but I’m not here to give you grief about that.  So, anyway, Chrissie calls me up about this baseball tournament across state and would I drive Bucky?  Hell yeah, I missed my son.  I missed my son fiercely.  I make hotel reservations and make sure we got what we need, but the coach calls me and tells me he’s got the team bunking together.  By this time, I reach into my hip pocket whenever I need some Johnny Walker.  As it turned out, I did that frequently during that weekend.  When you’re sitting there in the bleachers on a hot day, you need something to tide you over.”  He looked around the room.  Everyone of us were nodding in agreement. I have to say, it wasn’t their best effort.  I don’t know what happened, but they did not play up to their potential.  I kept my mouth shut and sat there guzzling my hip flask.  It was me and Johnny, together again.  When it was over, Bucky wore a permanent scowl on his face from his team’s disappointing effort.  I kept my mouth shut. I drove down the interstate back home calling on Johnny for company while Bucky sat in the back unbuckled and asleep.  Twenty miles out, a truck pulled in close.  Too close.  I hit the brakes and began to skid.  And then we began to roll.  I did not see my son leave the car.  I was in bad shape, but my seatbelt kept me in the driver’s seat.”

He paused again to wipe his tears. With a shrug he continued, “The highway patrol found Bucky three hundred yards from the wreckage.  He was rushed to the hospital in a coma.  When his brain began to swell, they removed the top of his skull so his brain could expand from the swelling.  Three months later, he was still in a coma.  They consulted with me and told me the best option would be to take him-”

He fell to his knees and banged his fists against the tiled floor.  Raising his head his eyes burning in anger and a snarl on his face, he blurted out, “Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” I dared to ask.

“Like that jury did during the trial!” He howled, “They looked at me like I was a piece of dirt. The same expression Chrissie had for the entire proceeding.  I wanted to rip off her face.  I wanted to hurt her the way she was hurting me. I have kept my peace on the matter.  I refused to say anything in my defense.” 

Silence once again covered the room in an uneasy peace.  

“Guilty! Guilty!  Guilty of the murder of my son.  Of my son.” He sobbed as he crawled along the floor. 

We looked at each other not knowing what to say.  Brenda was literally shaking as she stood there. 

“So, this evening I go to visit my son at the hospital and the doctor suggests taking him off of life support.” He closes his eyes, “I tell him to go to Hell. He tells me he has to call security. As he put his radio in his hand, I grabbed it and threw it against the wall.  The radio shatters.  He runs out of the room in a panic calling for security.  I see the plug in the wall…and I pull it out.  All of that beeping and buzzing stops as soon as I do along with his breathing.  I grab his hand.  I can feel his body temperature drop about the time the security officers put me in restraints. I still was able to bend over and kiss my son on his cold cheek.  It was a hard goodbye, let me tell ya. A really hard goodbye.”  He collapsed to the cold floor sobbing. “I desperately wanted to tell someone what really happened.  I could not leave without emptying my soul.” 

Flashing lights nearly blinded us as two police officers rushed into the room. Without exchanging any words, the pair went to Sal and put handcuffs on him.  He continued sobbing as they hoisted him to his feet. 

“Got an A.P.B. for your arrest.” One of the officers explained as the other read Sal his Miranda Rights. Sal did not say a single word as they led him out of the room.  

The local newspaper filled in the rest of the story about how he was convicted of driving under the influence and causing an accident on the interstate when his son Lyle Medina was ejected from the backseat of the car that was traveling in excess of eighty miles an hour before impact. Sal had nothing else on his record, but when he removed the plug of the life support system of his son, he would add manslaughter to his record, but before they could officially charge him, they found him hanging in his cell.  He managed to rip his shirt into shreds.  He tied them together and made a rope strong enough to do the job.  

For those of us who witnessed this happening, we could not stop thinking or talking about it.  One thing this whole episode did was make us aware of how thin the line can be between right and wrong especially when you mix it with intoxicating substances. From that night forward, we kept in touch with each other to ensure our sobriety. It proved to be a hard lesson for us all. 

I dialed my son Payton’s number on my phone.

“Hello.” I heard his sing-song voice on the other end of the line.

“Payton?” 

“Dad?” He laughed.  I hadn’t bothered to call him since his mother’s funeral six years ago.  It was a sin since he lived only twenty minutes away. 

“Yeah, I thought I’d check in with you and the family.” 

“Is something wrong?” He asked and I could hear him whisper my name to his wife Sheryl. 

“Nope, everything’s fine.” I made sure to sound extra cheery, “But something came up that reminded me I hadn’t called in a while.” 

“Six years is more than a while, dad.” He said I could just about see him roll his eyes. “Sheryl was wondering if you’d like to go to the cabin near the lake this weekend. We can do a bit of fishing like old times, huh?” 

“Sounds lovely.” I nodded. 

“Great.” He paused, “And dad, leave the booze at home.  The kids are asking lots of questions about that.” 

“No, no, I had no intention of bringing any booze.” I coughed, “I am turning over a new leaf.” 

“That’s great, dad, we will support you on that.” He chuckled.

“When should I come by?”

“We leave at sunset.  Is that too early for you?” 

“No, no, it’s perfect.” I nodded, “See you then.” 

“Looking forward to it, dad.” He did sound pleased and as a matter of fact so was I.  I would not tell him about Sal Medina.  That would be for another time.  I did secretly wish Sal could come along with us, but I knew that would not be possible.  

Putting the phone back in the cradle on the wall, I said a short prayer for Sal and his son Kyle.  I hadn’t said a single prayer since my wife Sarah passed six years ago.