The Drunk Logs (23 page)

“Well, come on, everybody’s going to the gym and you’re lying there, fully aware that the women are coming back today,” Sam said as his smile grew.

“The gym?” I asked dumbfounded.

“Yeah, you douche bag, they finished with the cleanup and reopened the gym,” Jack Jack said, surprising me from the doorway. “We’ve got to keep these fine specimens of flesh in check, otherwise the other bastards will have first crack at them.”

Relieved, I grabbed a change of clothes from my closet and followed behind my friends to the elevator. Jack Jack told his usual stories as we traveled to the first floor; the laughter increased as the elevator door opened.
He was again the person I had known before
, I thought. For now, I didn’t have to worry.

As I exited the changing room, I saw a sight I could never have imagined: bodies brought to torture, screaming to be brought back from this hell that fit bodies call heaven.

In a leg lift machine, Bobby struggled with weights only a few inches high, as his rotund stomach blocked any further advancement. Father Tom and Pat lifted free weights as their bones crackled with every motion. Sam was on the treadmill, as he ran and sweated profusely, his heart and lungs panicked from this new substance of fresh air. And Jack Jack screamed like a football coach, his face turning beet red, as he motivated them as if it were the last two minutes of the game.

A bunch of disheveled miscreants whom alone are to blame for their own predicament, sweated and panted to dizzying heights as the house music thumped around them. I threw my towel around my neck and proceeded over to the treadmill next to Sam. I pushed the start button and began with a slow walk. Afraid to shock the body awake, I decided to take it easy at the start.

Sam huffed like an old freight train and I wondered how long he would last as he struggled to keep his speed.

“Maybe you should take it easy at first, Sam?” I said, continuing to walk at an easy pace.

“Can’t…doing a power workout…short…but hard,” he gasped between breaths, and wiped his forehead of sweat.

I looked around and noticed that this was the regimen Jack Jack had prescribed to everyone. Not to be the odd man out, I increased my speed and tried to match Sam’s. Before long, Jack Jack called me over to lend a hand.

Over by the bench press, he ordered everyone to switch machines as he added on more weight. They obeyed his orders, stopped, and moved to different Nautilus equipment as he lay down on the bench. As I walked over to Jack Jack, I watched with concern as the individuals started to work other parts of their bodies with the same enthusiasm as before.

“Jack Jack, don’t you think this is a little bit extreme for the condition that the guys are in?” I said as I spotted the bar.

He lifted the weight and pressed once. “No, we only do this once and awhile. It’s good for them, if you haven’t noticed.” He pressed again.

He was on a mission, if not for them, then definitely for himself, as his chest and arm muscles tensed. He grunted and gasped with every push, as his eyes bulged and vessels popped red. I only stared, kept spot, and wondered when his anger and aggression would stop.

With one last push, he struggled to move the massive weight that only a little while ago seemed easier to muster. His head and arms shook as the sweat flowed down his skin, forming a puddle on the vinyl bench that supported his body. I placed my hands underneath the bar for help if it was needed, and became consumed by the black in Jack Jack’s eyes.

Jack Jack exhaled loudly as he lowered the bar onto the steel handles. Clank, the steel rattled. Psychotically motivated, he put his hands on his hips, started to walk around, and tried to slow his racing heart.

“All right, everybody, time’s up. We did our half hour!” Jack Jack yelled, as everyone gladly collapsed their frames wherever they stood. “Who’s up for a steam bath?”

Looks of disgust leered at Jack Jack as they toweled the sweat from their bodies.

“If you’re trying to kill me, Jack Jack, I won’t be able to give the last rites to anyone if they pass from exhaustion,” Father Tom said as he gasped for air.

Sorely, they all walked down the small corridor toward the exit, when Big Toledo and Danny entered. Everyone but Jack Jack gave way, slamming his shoulder into Danny as he passed.

“Why don’t you watch it, Jack Jack?” Danny muscled up and tried to flex his wiry frame.

Jack Jack stood his ground. “Maybe Big Toledo here is the one that needs to watch out for you, Danny boy.”

The group separated and stood between them, as Big Toledo appeared puzzled at what Jack Jack meant.

“I can take care of myself, Jack Jack,” he said with his innocent, ignorant grin.

Pat and Sam pulled Jack Jack back, who, all the while, stared down at Danny as they left. Oblivious to the matters that surrounded him, Big Toledo started to pedal on the stationary bike.

This cascade of emotions was nonsensical
, I thought. To go from happiness to sorrow to utmost despair, and end with the care of an individual he knew nothing about, puzzled me. Could it be that his last good notion of everything that he wished upon himself was being transferred to an individual who had hope? Jack Jack was the only one who knew the answer.

As I began to enter the hallway, the dead silence I had experienced before, followed by a dreamlike state, settled in my eyes, as it appeared that my friends had clung for dear life to the side of the wall. The ground rumbled as I scampered to find the only refuge at the end of my group of friends. Bobby felt courageous and made a break for it down the hall to the elevator, as the others whimpered in fright, when the doors began to open with a wind so forceful, it must be from the gates of hell.

The women were back in all their glory as they bulldozed their way into the building and down the hallway. As loud as a pack of hyenas, they trampled as fierce as a herd of elephants. My friends and I quietly held on so as not to spook the massive bunch, and waited until the storm passed and safety was restored.

Sam noticed that something was wrong and put his hand gently on my shoulder. “Hoochy-coochy?” He giggled.

“Yeah.” I smiled as I started to feel normal.

“Just shake it off, walrus, shake it off.”

The last one who entered was Victoria. She carried her suitcase, and approached her frightened friends.

“What’s up guys? Did you miss me?”

“Man, I tell ya, one of you is hard enough to handle, but when you guys are all together, you better get out of the way,” Jack Jack said.

As they entered the elevator, I stayed behind and escorted her back to her room.

“So, how did you like your stay at the hotel?”

“It wasn’t too bad. There was a pool and we had television in our rooms. But they still made us go to lecture in the conference area they had at the hotel.”

Immediately, without warning, the hallucinations started up again.

The Mary Janes and Roddy Todd’s of the world shadowed in their dimly lit holes, and situated their situations. Complacent, was the view from the green carpet, if only on occasion, they took the time to remember. Even the cartooned pajama’s and fairy godfather took heed of the coupled strangers. The boys stood ready, the boys stood ready.

In a cold sweat, I took a long deep breath and tried to quell the aftershock of the hoochy-coochies, as Sam had called them.

“Are you all right?” Victoria asked.

“Yeah…Yeah.”

“It’s nice to see we’re getting looks again,” she said with a smile, as we turned and passed the nurses’ station.

“Yep. Apparently we must be the love interest story.”

We chuckled as the conversation began to take a serious note.

“Uh, Victoria, I just wanted to mention, uh, what happened between us before, and uh…”

She pulled me to the side and whispered. “Not here. We’ll talk about it outside. Besides, you can’t go past this point.”

The moment we had shared had been a moment of need that we had stolen for our own comfort. Words now would have only complicated the situation that had led from that point on. It was right to enjoy the gifts that were given and be happy when they were received.

“All right then, I have to be heading back. I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, as we turned and walked our separate ways.

The elevator door opened and I stepped onto the second floor zoo, a place I had grown accustomed to. It was the Stanley Cup final and the entire floor was electric, split between the patients on who would win. Each in their own element as they played board games at the tables, bathed in the community shower, roamed the hallways, or picked up conversations from the people they remembered. But the center of the melee emanated from the entertainment room, where true fans staked claim to the good seats and the latecomers watched from the kitchenette, packed in like sardines.

I did not care much for the game and trudged back to my room.
I’ll change my clothes and relax a little, before I subject myself to the abuse of the unruly crowd
, I thought.

As I entered the room, Pat sat at the desk and wrote a letter; his hair was still wet from his shower.

“Hidey hoe, Pat,” I said as I whistled and took off my shirt. I plopped onto my bed and enjoyed the breeze that came from the open window. I leaned back, stretched my legs, and folded my arms behind my head.

“That was a pretty good workout today, don’t you think?” Pat asked, as he tapped his pen on the desk.

“It wasn’t bad, but some of the guys have to be careful. They’re not in the best condition to start.”

“Yeah, but after all, they don’t have to do it if they don’t want to. And all of us do need the exercise.”

I stood, opened my closet, and started to change with the room door wide open, not ashamed while the patients passed on by. As I lay back down, I noticed that Pat was having difficulty with his letter.

“Whom are you writing to?

“Oh, I’m trying to write a letter to my wife. Telling her how special it was having her here and saying some other things I didn’t have the time to.”

I watched as Pat struggled and wondered if I should give my two cents.
What could it possibly hurt?
I thought.

I sat up in bed as my elbows supported my body. “Can I say something, Pat, and I don’t mean any offense?”

“Sure.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t do it,” I said. “My brother, who is now a woman, once told me ‘never put anything in writing and give it to a woman you care about, because now she has evidence that she can use against you later.’”

“Your brother?”

“No, he’s my sister, but that’s not the issue.”

Pat sat and thought for a while. “Yeah, but it’s my wife.”

“And it could be your ex-wife. She knows as well as everyone else that you’re in here, so why add fuel to the fire?” I paused to let it sink in. “Think about it—haven’t you gotten into fights before about what she thinks you said? Now she’ll have proof. But you go ahead and think what is best for you.”

I lay back and took a deep breath; eventually I heard the crumbled paper thump in the waste paper basket.

The noise from the entertainment room began to grow from the hallway. Only a few more minutes and all hell was going to break loose.

Screams filled the hall, which was the cue that the hockey game was under way. Pat and I dusted ourselves off and joined the rest of the patients as we flowed toward the center of excitement. The double doors that busted at the seams were now open to accommodate the crowd of men and to circulate the stifled air.

As Pat battled into the kitchen, I noticed Bobby as he sat alone at one of the tables, eating. With the volume loud enough to fill the entire building, I wandered on over to Bobby, grabbed a section of the newspaper that had rested on the table, and sat down. “What’s up Bobby?”

“Nothing. Just getting a little snack in before I go to bed.”

The elevator bell rang and the door opened. Carl, right on cue, walked out and pleaded with the crowd to lower their enthusiasm, and they grudgingly complied for the time being. Interestingly, Carl stayed and watched the game, to everyone’s surprise. No one had figured him much of a sports fan.

I yawned and stretched and struggled to keep my eyes open.

“See, that little bit of exercise did you some good,” Bobby said as he took a bite from a pickle. “Your body is probably wondering what kind of torture you’re trying to put it through this time.”

I continued to read the newspaper, and I gradually became hypnotized by the amount of food Bobby could eat in one sitting. He began on his third turkey sandwich, second pickle, fourth small bag of chips, and a lemon ice, when I tried to draw him away from his gluttony.

“So, are we going to have another group session like we did the last time?” I tried to interrupt his momentum.

“Probably.” He belched. “It’s funny though, you tell anyone what group we’re in, and they all wish they were in it. Maybe because there’s never a dull moment, I don’t know,” Bobby started to yawn. “See, now you got me doing it.”

I yawned again.

“Stop it, will you?” Bobby said as he yawned again.

In the distance, I noticed Jack Jack as he walked out of the kitchenette and appeared deep in thought. With hands in pockets, he looked into the room, but did not watch the game. The room exploded with cheers and frustration, but Jack Jack stood vigilant and showed no sign of emotion. He leaned to one side, stretched upward, and watched Big Toledo and Danny as they sat together.
Why did he have so much animosity toward Danny?
I wondered.

“Bobby, what is the deal with Jack Jack and Danny?” I whispered.

Bobby looked over at Jack Jack and shook his head. “Jack Jack thinks he’s the drug patrol in here. To him this place is sacred ground and you’re here to get help. So, he usually picks out someone who he thinks is bad news and goes after them, always keeping an eye on them, like something might happen. He thinks he’s like fucking Gandhi, trying to defend the weak.” He took another bite of his sandwich and finished his cherry soda. “Hell, there was one guy that almost had a nervous breakdown because Jack Jack kept stalking him.”