SAN FRANCISCO, Dennis walked down the street, trying to relieve his feelings of restlessness.
He was supposed to be at work but this morning, he called Elsa and asked if she could handle things on her own today.
She reminded him that Jodie was supposed to be coming in as well.
The two of them would be fine.
"No worries," she said. "Take care of yourself."
He was embarrassed by the concern in her voice. It was the sixth time he was missing work in the last couple of weeks. This was new for someone who had worked seven days a week for the last eight years.
Work used to be his solace.
Now he dreaded facing the customers. He hated making small talk with them, and he hated answering their ignorant questions. He hated overhearing their conversation, especially when they took place on cell phones.
He was considering putting up a sign. No Cell Phones in the Store!
People might be put off by that, but they could deal with it.
He passed an Indian restaurant and had a vague memory of eating there with Nancy.
Was this the one that had the Indian pizza?
He peered inside.
Yes, it seemed to be the one.
Did they like the pizza?
Funny thing. He couldn’t quite remember.
He kept walking; passed a clothes store and more memories seeped in. Nancy had wanted to look inside. He had waited outside and had played one of those trivia games on his iPhone.
What was it called again?
He couldn’t remember.
She had come out with a purchase. Not for herself but for Christina.
A blouse.
He couldn’t remember the color now. He wondered if Christina had liked it.
He missed her. His wife. His daughter.
He kept meaning to write to Christina but couldn't find the energy.
He also hadn’t stuck his granddaughter's drawings onto the bulletin board. He kept meaning to do it.
He'd probably do it tomorrow.
A woman passed him on the sidewalk; knocked into him. She carried a bag with something heavy inside.
It hit him on the thigh.
It hurt.
"Excuse me. Sorry." She said it so cheerfully as she left him behind, busy talking to someone on her phone. That's why she didn't see him.
He wanted to yell at her.
He didn't, of course. He took a deep breath. Counted to ten. He felt everything caving in. There was no escape.
He felt like falling, right here on the sidewalk.
What would happen if he did that? Would someone pick him up? Would they call the police? Would he be put away in one of those hospitals?
Right now, the idea didn’t seem awful
He then saw a liquor store. He stared at it for a moment; then quickly walked away.
He rushed back home and changed into some boxers and a t-shirt.
He looked at his leg, wondering if there would be a bruise. He then realized he needed to have a bowel movement.
He did that, not reading a magazine or newspaper. He stopped with those. These days, he read only books.
In the bathroom, he had a collection of short stories by F Scott Fitzgerald. He tried to concentrate on one of the stories, but he couldn’t.
***
After the bathroom, he lay on the bed. He reached out and touched the side of the bed where his wife used to sleep.
"Hello," he said, not to her spirit but to her memory.
He wanted a drink.
It had been nine years.
He was a mess after the kids were killed. His wife was the strong one, and she got him to agree to the whole AA thing.
He managed only one meeting. He didn't like the higher power talk. He didn't like the woman who spoke of Jesus helping her through it all. It reminded him of all the cruel nonsense he had heard at the funeral. The foolish sympathy cards.
"Your children are with the angels now."
"God gives you only what you can handle."
"We lift you up onto the Lord."
"God will wipe away the tears you cry."
His dislike of religion must have shown on his face at the meeting. A young man approached him afterward and said, "Is it my imagination or does the God stuff annoy you as much as it does me?" Dennis had been so glad to find someone who shared his feelings.
"It's hard for an atheist in AA," the man had said.
Prior to that meeting, Dennis had never considered himself an atheist. He never really thought much about it. He had known what it meant; he just never considered it as applying to himself.
He wasn't sure if he didn't believe in God. At that point he just didn't like God.
The new friend told Dennis he wanted to start a group for alcoholic atheists. He had given Dennis his phone number. Dennis meant to call him but lost his number. He went to a few more AA meetings and decided he'd rather give up the meetings than the beer.
Nancy didn't like that. So he gave up both the meetings and the beer. He kept busy with work. And he started researching atheism. He joined newsgroups. There, he found friends and solace.
Sometimes he tried to get Nancy onboard, but she wasn't interested. "I don't know if there's an afterlife. You're probably right. It's a delusion. But imaging I might see the kids one day? It keeps me going."
Dennis shared his view. "We keep going until it's our end. Then all the pain of missing them will stop. None of it will matter."
She had thought quietly for a moment. Then: "Makes sense." But despite her understanding, she kept believing her own way.
Continue to Chapter Twenty-Three
Go Back to Chapter Twenty-One
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