A Pact For Life (34 page)

“I just want to be good at something again.”

He dropped the glass onto the floor where it fell over and spilled out its contents. Cale wanted to puke, but there was nothing left in his stomach to expel. He became silent and offered no more confessions. The words, like his consciousness, had escaped him.

“Here Cale, let me get you some more water.” Brian said, and got up to collect the glass. Before he even picked it up, he caught a whiff of its earlier contents, and knew Cale was in trouble. He shook Cale on the shoulder, and called out his name twice. When he didn't get a response, he yelled out, “You fucking dumbass! Nick, call 911 and tell them to send an ambulance. He's gonna need his stomach pumped.”

“What?”

“Just trust me, call them now!” Brian yelled as he rolled Cale onto his side.

Since Brian was well experienced in witnessing overdoses and all other forms of partying gone wrong, there was no one better to be around an alcohol poisoned Cale, save for a doctor with a gastric lavage
⁴³
.

The phone call was made, the ambulance arrived, and Cale ended up at the nearest hospital where he was treated, and then delivered to another hospital that was more hospitable to his insurance. All in all, it went down as one of the better Tall Saints Bar Crawls.

The Cale Dawkins' Death Watch 

Death Clock: 11:58 

Injuries Sustained: Alcohol poisoning, five broken bones in right hand.

Current Substances: Enough alcohol to give a .35 BAC.

Number Of Women In Past Seventy-Two Hours: Two 

FAMILY DINNERS

The Diana Young Pregnancy Update 

Estimated weeks till delivery: 8

Shape of stomach: A prize winning pumpkin. 

Food Craving: Ham covered with peanut butter. 

Mood: Nervous

“Everyone, this is Andrew. Andrew, this is my family.” Diana said as they stood in the foyer of Diana's parent's house.

In the typical uniform of an off-duty professional – a polo tucked into khakis and brown loafers – Andrew made his way down the line of Diana's family. He shook hands with Benjamin, Popa, Uncle Vick, Caitlyn, her fiancée Jimmy, and wound up with a hug from Terri.

Jack, Diana's little brother, was locked away in his room in a silent protest. The shy, quiet member of the Young family didn't want to be a part of the first family dinner with Diana's new boyfriend.

Besides the two people who were actually in the relationship, Jack took Cale and Diana's breakup the hardest. He wanted to call or email Cale and tell him to come over and get Diana back, but any attempt at contact would've been futile. It's not like Cale could receive correspondence in the hospital.

From the foyer, the group headed outside to the back patio. It was mid-spring in Colorado, and this meant every evening had two possible outcomes – windy, gray, and cold or cloudless, pink, and mild. On that particular day, the latter weather option won, and thus, dinner was held outside.

Being the new guy, Andrew was put through the gauntlet of questions from the family. It was similar to a job interview in that every answer needed to make you seem perfect.

Benjamin: “So what do you do, Andrew?”

Terri: “Oh my! A doctor! Not only are you very handsome, but smart as well. Where did you go to college?”

Uncle Vick: “Kansas, eh? You from there originally? What brought you to Denver?”

Caitlyn: “Yeah, I couldn't stand living in Kansas either. Doesn't your brother work with Diana?”

Popa: “Democrat or Republican?”

Terri: “Dad, that's a personal question. Andrew, you can just ignore him. So do you live here in the city?”

Caitlyn: “Where at downtown?”

The Females: “Oooohhhh.”

Jimmy: “Yo, are you the kind of doctor that can approve a medical marijuana card because I have this friend who is looking for one?”

The group:(Silence)

Diana: “Mom, shouldn't you be getting dinner ready?”

Terri: “Andrew, why don't you come in here with me so I can get to know you better?”

Diana: “C'mon mom, don't torture him like that.”

Terri: “Oh hush, this'll be fun.”

As Andrew was led back into the house with Terri, he looked back at Diana, gave a shrug, and accepted his fate.

Unsure where he was or why he felt like his insides had been scrapped out, Cale opened his eyes and was nearly blinded by the harsh, fluorescent hospital lights. He let out a groan and rolled over on his side to find a guest in his room.

“About time you finally came to, Sonny Boy.” Donald Dawkins said to his son. He was wearing a black jacket with a black collared shirt underneath. An attire suitable for a funeral, or a night on the town with George Clooney. In front of him was a styrofoam box containing a steak that looked way too good for hospital food.

“Ugh, how long have you been here?” Cale asked in a raspy voice.

“A few hours now. Those are some injuries you have there.”

Embarrassed. That's how Cale felt in front of his father. Donald Dawkins never had broken hands, a pumped stomach, or random cuts and bruises. Cale felt like he was no longer the son his dad could brag about, but rather a liability to his life. Someone Donald would describe as, “Still living in Denver,” whenever people would ask about his son. No other update would be given because it was too shameful.

With a piece of steak dangling from his fork, Donald said, “You know, one of the biggest crocks of shit when it comes to life is that there's no do-overs.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“I thought it was pretty self-explanatory, but if you want it broken down for you, it means I bet you wish you could take back whatever caused you to end up in here.”

“I wouldn't take it back.”

Up to this point Donald assumed the cause of Cale's alcohol poisoning was simply partying too much. He had no idea there was an underlying factor that drove him to get drunk beyond Bukowski
⁴⁴
.

“Diana's gone.”

“Gone?”

“Yeah, she's with some new guy?”

More embarrassment. He was the son of one of the most well respected ladies' men in the history of DC, and he couldn't even keep his pregnant girlfriend.

“I'm sorry, Cale. I had no idea. Something that devastating...” Donald didn't have the words. Contrary to how Cale felt, he wasn't embarrassed for his son. Instead, he felt powerless to help. In life, Donald had two special powers. One was being able to find the right word for any situation, and the other was the ability to charm anyone, and both failed him at his son's lowest moment.

“How's your sculptures?”

Cale didn't respond. To give that amount of failure an actual description was impossible. Donald might as well have asked him what it was like to live in a human zoo on the planet Tralfamadore.

“That bad, huh? You need any money?”

“No, I'm alright.”

“Seriously, Cale, I don't mind.”

“And seriously, I'm fine.”

There were too many curt answers for Donald's liking. Cale was shutting off to the world.

“If I may, Cale, I have one piece of advice for you. After this, I won't say anything else, but I hope it sticks with you. You have every right to be angry or depressed, but don't close yourself off. Like the saying goes, always speak your mind. Even if your voice shakes while you do it, always speak your mind.”

Cale nodded in acknowledgment.

Joined by Uncle Vick and Popa at the dining room table, Andrew sat at the head so he could communicate with the two men as well as Terri in the kitchen. They had touched on every sensitive issue such as politics, religion, capital punishment, taxes, and as Uncle Vick put it, “The blacks and gays.” Every question was answered by Andrew with something politically correct. In that situation, it was better to be polite than honest.

“So Diana told me you're recently divorced,” Uncle Vick said with a dash of superiority.

“Yes, we've been separated... oh, about six months now, but it wasn't official until last month.”

“Congrats. I'm sure you're happy to be single again, and have all that time to do whatever you want.”

“Vick, don't say that!” Terri shouted from the kitchen. “I'm sorry about your divorce, Andrew. It's a terrible thing. There are too many divorces in the world today.”

In a nutshell, Uncle Vick and Terri's comments are the only two responses every recently divorced person hears. They either congratulate or apologize. There is no deviation from these two extremes.

Politely, Andrew said, “It's alright, and Vick, I wouldn't say I have all the time in the world. Since the divorce I've been working a lot more. Actually, today is the first day I've had with Diana in the past week and a half. We both have such busy schedules that it's hard to see each other.”

Terri took a casserole out of the oven and said, “Andrew, you should talk to Diana about cutting back at work. She is at that office way too much for being so far along in the pregnancy. I hope she'll quit once the baby is born. A new mom should be at home with the baby.”

“I'll see what I can do, Mrs. Young.”

“Oh stop it with that stuff. I told you to call me Terri!”

Popa leaned back enough that the wooden chair began to creak, folded his arms, and began to preach, “Terri, you know that girl isn't gonna stop working once that baby comes out. She's a hard worker like me.”

“Please, Dad,” Terri said dismissively, “If anything, Diana takes after me.”

“And where do you think you got it from?” Popa said, smiling at what he thought was a clever comment.

Andrew heard Diana's laughter float into the dining room from the den, and wished he could be out there with her. But he was a nice, polite guy, and as such, he remained seated with a smile as the apologies and congratulations continued.