Jaymes had not touched a drink in several years, but the emptiness he felt now gnawed away in the pit of his stomach like sewer rats gnawing on decomposing garbage. The last time he went out and had a drink was when he married Ellyn. She had become so concerned over his drinking that she had mentioned it to him.
“Jay, I don’t mind that you drink every once in awhile…” He could hear the but linger even though she had not said anything. “But…it’s starting to scare me.” She had looked at him with sadden eyes. “It’s not like you. I mean, Jay, I know you’ve had a rough life, but you’ve got to get control of this.” He had been sitting across from her in their small apartment on the West side of town.
“What am I supposed to do El?” he had asked. “After everything I’ve done for the company, they just let me go. How are we going to pay the rent? How are we going to afford the groceries? I feel like it’s my fault.” Jaymes remembered sitting in the chair and just looking at her. At the time, he had invested some money with a friend from high school in starting up a small company. Both wanted to open a specialty rare bookstore. When Jaymes made his investment back, with interest, from the business, his partner and friend took him to court; claiming Jaymes was defrauding the business. Jaymes in the end lost his position and his investments altogether. He couldn’t face her and tell her what had happened.
“Jay, we’ll make it. I know you. You are a fighter and when things like this happen in your life, you just roll up your sleeves and get in the dirt and make the best of it.” She had paused, reaching over and taking his hand into hers. “Jay, I believe you will do what it takes, cause that is the kind of person you are and I love you. I admire and appreciate you.”
“El, its just I feel like a loser and that I’ve failed you.”
“Jay, you’ve never failed me. And you’re not a loser.” Her smile captivated him as it lingered in his mind. The more he remembered her talking with him about his drinking problem, the bigger the knot grew in his stomach. The sooner I get that drink, the better I will feel, he commented, pushing the image out of his mind. Why aren’t you here with me, El? He pressed forward. The memory of Ellyn was soon replaced with the memory of his father and mother, how they both died.
Though he was not close to his father, his death had hit Jaymes very hard as his mind opened the vault of that whole year. His father had been an overbearing gentleman, too much set in his own ways of thinking – very stubborn. Jaymes had been in his late twenties as the haunting memory dug itself up, like secrets of an ancient civilization being discovered by an archaeologist.
His father had been a roofing contractor, as he was helping a friend tear off a roof, his father had stepped wrong, twisting his ankle and had fallen two stories to the ground. Even though his father had survived the fall, he had severely injured his back. After three back operations, his father was still in severe pain. The doctors suggested paralyzing his father from the waist down, his mother and he agreed. Jaymes and his father were in the process of restoring a 66 candy red convertible mustang with a 302 boss engine.
As his father had gone in for his surgery, there were severe complications and his father had died during the surgery. He remembered sitting with his mother in the waiting room.
“Something is wrong, I can feel it, Jaymes.” He could hear his mother’s voice. “I feel like he is not coming back”” He had encouraged her when the doctor came out and informed them his father had not made it. All he could do was hold his mother, comforting her, never really mourning his father’s death.
El, I don’t think I ever really told my father how much I loved him, how much he meant to me. Jaymes reflected as the memory of his father’s death faded. He picked up his pace again. He remembered moving in with his mother, helping her around the house. Watching her deteriorate over the remaining year until one day he came home to find her asleep in bed. A bottle of prescribed sleeping pills lay empty on the nightstand, his mother having taken her life, heartbroken over his father’s death. Jaymes recalled that in his mother’s hand was a picture of his father, much younger and wearing a navy flight jacket.
Jaymes released a heavy sigh, the old memories compounded against the loss of Ellyn as he noticed Mickey’s Tavern across from where he was. Pushing the memories of his father’s and mother’s death aside, he crossed Fourth Avenue and stepped inside the tavern. A wall of cigarette smoke hits him as he sidled up to the counter. Pulling out some cash, he motioned for the bartender and glanced around the bar quickly. When the bartender came to where Jaymes was seated, Jaymes tossed a ten onto the counter and perused the selection of liquor lining the shelving of a mirrored wall.
“Rum and Coke,” Jaymes said, the bartender nodded slightly and with fluid grace like a magician, a tumbler was placed before Jaymes.
For a long moment, Jaymes sat, staring at the liquid in the glass, all the emotions working his nerves and then picking up the glass, he took that first drink. The liquid cascaded down his throat, the memory of him going on a drinking binge after his mother’s death suppressed the pain he is now feeling. Draining the contents of the glass, he ordered another, and soon found that comfort alcoholics find when life just seems to fall apart all around you.
After the fourth round of his chosen poison, Jaymes scanned the interior of the tavern and noticed a jukebox jutting out from a wall separating the stools and counter from the dance floor and tables that filled up the back part of the tavern. Staggering over, he dropped a dollar in change and after browsing through the selection of music, he settled upon an old country song.
Saddling back up at the bar, ordering a fifth round, settling his nerves by the alcohol, he raised the glass, slurring his words under his breath. “To you Ellyn, my baby girl.” With that, he downed the alcohol and soda mixture without taking a breath, letting the comfort of a stupor cloak him.
Chandler approached Mikey’s Tavern after watching Jaymes go in, and after sitting in his car for a spell. Having decided it was time to go in and rescue his friend. Georgia had called him, informing him that Jaymes took off out of her house like a bat out of hell. Desiree had come over and started talking when she was just getting Jaymes to open up. Chandler saw Jaymes walk briskly past him, completely oblivious and much in thought. Chandler was waiting for the light to change when he caught sight of Jaymes cutting through an alleyway paralleled to the local access street between East Bay road and Fourth Avenue.
Stopping in front of the door, Chandler noticed Jaymes had occupied the third stool back from the door. Sighing, Chandler opened the door and stepped inside. Some heads turned to see him walk in, only to turn back to their conversations and alcohol. Jaymes just sat staring at his reflection in the mirror behind the various bottles of liquid pain relievers.
“Since when do you go out drinkin’ by yer’self?” Chandler asked, sitting next to Jaymes.
“Oh, hey Chandler.” Jaymes patted his friend on the back. “I’ll buy this ole chap here a round,” he said waving a twenty at the bartender, slapping it hard down on the counter, swaying in the chair.
“Hey, you remember that time we went out to that out of the way redneck bar?” Chandler asked, laughing.
“Yeah, what about it?” Jaymes began nursing a new bottle of beer, having abandoned the Rum and Coke.
“Man, you got so wasted that when you tried to get out on the dance floor, you just looked like Gumby with your arms a’flailin’ and legs all jelly like,” Chandler began, animating with his arms, trying to imitate what he was saying. “You were out there trying to impress all the girlies with your suave dance moves.”
“Yeah, I remember.” Jaymes waved a hand at Chandler.
“Seriously, what are you doing here?” Chandler placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to steady Jaymes.
“What do you think I’m doin’ here?” Jaymes replied, slurring more and more of his words.
“Georgia called me up and told me you were over at her place, talking a little, then Desiree showed up.”
“Why don’t you leave me alone Chandler!” Jaymes snapped, forcing Chandler’s hand off his shoulder.
“Hey, I’m just here trying to help you out.” Chandler put his hand on Jaymes again, lightly, but Jaymes pushed his hand off and took an unsuccessful swing at the tall detective, falling to the floor. The bartender came to where the two men are and looked at Chandler for a moment.
“Your friend is cut off, he needs to go,” the bartender said flatly and authoritatively.
“That’s what I’m here for hoss,” Chandler replied. The bartender just gave Chandler a smirk. “I think my friend here is sas’sfied with yer fine selection of intoxicating mixtures,” Chandler sarcastically replied to the bartender. He then turned his attention to Jaymes, helping him up. “Okay pal, I think you had a little too much to drink, time to go sleep it off in the tank,” Chandler said. “But if you must quench your Sarah Desert thirst, I will be glad to stop off and get you some soda or something.”
“Listen Chandler…” Jaymes slurred, but as he stood and swayed for a moment, he doubled over, puking all over the floor of the tavern. “See, I can hold my liquor, unlike some people I know.” Jaymes then stood, steadying as much as possible, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. “Honest ossifer, I ain’t as think you drunk I am,” Jaymes laughed, pushing his hand against Chandler’s chest. Chandler quickly pulled both Jaymes’s arms behind him, cuffing him and shoving him out the door of the bar. The bartender was set upon calling in the men in blue when Chandler showed the muscle-toned man his detective badge. Chandler had to almost carry Jaymes, stopping a few paces to allow him to pay alms to the concrete god. “Time to get you home.” Chandler said, wrestling a drunk Jaymes into the back seat of his vehicle. Jaymes said something incoherent before passing out, images of Ellyn burning in his mind
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