Jerry sits next to me, working on a fresh beer. It\u2019s a Tuesday night and the bar is empty, save for a handful of lonely hearted men finding their love at the bottom of a glass. Jerry goes on about all kinds of things: asshole politicians, his dickhead boss, his wife who kicked him out last week. He tells me it came out of nowhere, that he the whole thing blindsided him. And now he\u2019s shacking it up at a motel by the goddamn highway. Jim\u2019s Tavern is the only place he feels he can come to with open arms.<\/p>\n
Jerry and Helen married about fifteen years ago. Have two kids. A fat German Shepherd named John-Boy that Jerry is crazy about. I\u2019ve known Jerry for thirteen years and I can remember that dog being around him every time I went over for dinner. I guess Jerry will drink himself to death when old John-Boy finally keels over.<\/p>\n
He keeps telling me that his recent marriage roadblock was unexpected and won\u2019t last long. But anyone who knows him will tell you different. We\u2019re neighbors. My wife Nora and I could hear their fights clear across the street. Plates shattering and doors slamming. In our neighborhood everyone had a front row view to the local drama of Jerry and Helen Murphy. Nora would check on Helen during an intermission and she\u2019d come back, telling me the things Jerry said and did to her. He once broke her mother\u2019s china cabinet and threw the pieces out the bathroom window. I would always take him out for a beer and drive around the town lake with him. His side of the story was always different.<\/p>\n
The night Helen kicked him out, Jerry tells me, she wouldn\u2019t stop yelling at him. Questioned his masculinity, Jerry says. She hollered on about this and that, how she couldn\u2019t live with him anymore. That he had to leave. She said she was seeing someone else and didn\u2019t love Jerry anymore, hadn\u2019t for years. So Jerry just smiled. He went out and slashed Helen\u2019s tires so she couldn\u2019t leave. Then he lit her rose bushes on fire. When she came out and saw the flames, she screamed at him to put the fire out before the damn house burned down.<\/p>\n
He was out on his ass right after.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe didn\u2019t even let me take John-Boy,\u201d he says. \u201cShe can fuck around all she wants and kick me out of my house, but that\u2019s my dog.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere you gonna put him?\u201d I say. \u201cJohn-Boy would tear that hotel to shreds.\u201d<\/p>\n
He orders another drink. The bartender looks Jerry over and continues to wipe a glass. \u201cYou\u2019ve had enough, buddy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Jerry doesn\u2019t want to hear this.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s not a particularly big guy, but when he\u2019s drinking he gets to this point where he can snap anyone as easy as a toothpick. But he\u2019s calm about it at first. A sleeping giant. Jerry doesn\u2019t do anything to the bartender except look at him and waves his glass close to the bartender\u2019s face.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll tell you when I\u2019ve had enough,\u201d he says. \u201cBuddy<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n I look around the bar. Men without women. All these men. This bar looks like a sad club for local estranged husbands. I\u2019m sure, when all the details are taken into account, that we\u2019re all different. But on the surface it\u2019s the same\u2013men without women. Thinking about love and wondering if and when we\u2019ll bring it all back home. Or if we\u2019re just going to the dogs.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll tell you, Bill,\u201d Jerry says. \u201cWomen don\u2019t lead to nothing but trouble. You keep that in mind when you think about your wife.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYeah,\u201d I say. \u201cMaybe you\u2019re right.\u201d<\/p>\n He slams down his new beer and smiles. \u201cDamn right I\u2019m right.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe I\u2019ll call her tomorrow,\u201d I say. \u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d<\/p>\n I\u2019ll say it now, for the record. I cheated on Nora. I\u2019m not too proud of it. Who knows why any man does it. I sure as shit don\u2019t. All I know is that I did and she found out about it. She\u2019s a smart woman. Now the one and only word on her mind is divorce<\/em>. She told me she\u2019s already talking to a lawyer. She wanted me out. Told me not to come back unless I agree to the divorce or go back to being a family man. Two options. They call that an ultimatum. How many marriages end well with that? She\u2019s given me a week to think about it. It\u2019s already been three days.<\/p>\n The funny thing is I can hardly remember the other woman. Her name was Nicole or something. I met her in a bar downtown after a Royals game with Jerry last year. For a few months we carried on with it. And now she\u2019s a blur and Nora\u2019s angry, sad face is what I see when I go to sleep.<\/p>\n Now I\u2019m like Jerry, held up at some cheap motel, some grimy roach dump called the I-70 Inn, with a suitcase of clothes, and a beautiful view of cracked pavement and fast food signs. The sounds of late-night lovers and dying car engines are what I fall asleep to.<\/p>\n \u201cI can\u2019t believe she\u2019s taking John-Boy,\u201d Jerry says. \u201cIt\u2019s my dog. I bought it, raised it. I\u2019m the only one who feeds it. I love that dog. That dog is mine. She can\u2019t keep my fucking dog.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWell,\u201d I say. \u201cMaybe you\u2019ll win him in the settlement.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIf she thinks she can stop me from seeing John-Boy,\u201d he says. He finishes his drink, gulping it down in one big motion, and stares behind the bar.<\/p>\n He stares at nothing in particular, his mind thinking about this and that. Helen. His kids. John-Boy. He starts lightly pounding his fist on the bar, as if that will help him find the right thing to do<\/p>\n \u201cHey buddy,\u201d he says. \u201cLemme see your phone.\u201d<\/p>\n The bartender bites his lip and hands Jerry the phone. \u201cKeep it short,\u201d he says. \u201cKeep it local.\u201d<\/p>\n Jerry dials and waits while the line rings. I pay the bartender for another round and look at our distorted reflection in the bar mirror. Jerry gets an answer soon.<\/p>\n \u201cHello? Hello? Helen? It\u2019s me,\u201d he says. \u201cI can hear the kids. How are they? Is there someone else there? I can hear someone else. I\u2019m real sorry, baby. You know I love you. Why can\u2019t I come back tonight? I miss John-Boy.\u201d<\/p>\n When he\u2019s on the phone an old woman comes in the bar. She looks like a tiny witch. Her gray hair is held in a bright patterned handkerchief. Her face is lined with wrinkles and she looks around the bar with nothing short of contempt. She carries a large basket of flowers, all different colors and breeds. She peeks over the petals and goes around to all the men offering to sell some.<\/p>\n I watch as they ignore her. They look at her face and her flowers and turn away, back to their bottles and broken hearts. She holds out her basket to them, and the smell of her flowers is strong enough to mask the stench of cigarettes and stale beer. But everyone turns away from her and she delicately walks between the men and chairs.<\/p>\n She comes over to me and Jerry. Her flowers look a day or two old. The rejects of whatever shop they\u2019re from. She holds out the flowers to us.<\/p>\n \u201cFor your wife,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n Jerry rolls his eyes and turns away, gripping the phone.<\/p>\n \u201cHow much?\u201d I say.<\/p>\n She places the basket on the bar. \u201cTen for the half-dozen roses,\u201d she says. \u201cFive for the Just Because or I Love You Today bouquets.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll take the I Love You Today,\u201d I say. I take out a crumbled five dollar bill and hand it to her.<\/p>\n She nods and hands me the small bouquet. Some of the petals look wilted. But they still smell nice. She\u2019s thrown together a collection of daffodils and tulips and lilies.<\/p>\n \u201cYour wife should like them,\u201d she says. \u201cMake sure they get put in water.\u201d<\/p>\n She grabs her basket and leaves the bar. I carefully place the flowers on the bar top and look at them. They\u2019re delicate and I don\u2019t want any of the petals to fall off. I wait for Jerry to hang up the phone.<\/p>\n \u201cListen,\u201d he says. He\u2019s not yelling and he\u2019s not whispering. It\u2019s like an in between. Real calm, and it\u2019s his calmness that gets me. \u201cI\u2019m coming to get John-Boy tonight. You better be alone, just you and the kids.\u201d<\/p>\n He slams the phone down. Some of the lonely men have paid their tabs and left, laughing to themselves about my flowers. Jerry sits quiet with his face in his hands.<\/p>\n \u201cWe\u2019re taking a ride,\u201d he says. \u201cYou\u2019re driving. Stop at a gas station first. Need more beer.\u201d<\/p>\n I want to tell him no. That this is more than just John-Boy and he should just go home. That I want to see my wife and not drive his sorry ass tonight. But I don\u2019t say anything. He\u2019ll go alone if he wants to.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat are those?\u201d he says, pointing to my flowers.<\/p>\n I pick them up and shrug. \u201cFlowers for Nora, I guess.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019ll fix anything, buddy. Straight up.\u201d<\/p>\n He chuckles and we pay the bartender with worn-out bills. Our drinks are half-empty so we slam them down before we head out.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The night is cold for a late Midwest April. The brisk air hits me and sobers me for a moment. The stars are clear and I hold the flowers close to me. We get into my fast-food bag littered car and I place the flowers on the floor in the back and make sure nothing will fall on them. I drive to the gas station at the end of the street and Jerry staggers inside and comes back with a six-pack of tallboy Hamm\u2019s. He tears two off, hands me one, and pops open his.<\/p>\n I set mine between my legs and head towards Jerry\u2019s house. He chugs his beer and chucks it out the window. I keep an eye out for any cops but don\u2019t see any. The streets are empty. Everyone is at home this late, under warm blankets. I think about Nora. I look back to see if my flowers still look okay.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know what I\u2019m gonna do, Bill?\u201d Jerry says. \u201cWhen we get there?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhat,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m gonna take John-Boy. He\u2019s mine, right? I\u2019m gonna walk right in and take my dog. He\u2019s coming with me. Man\u2019s best friend. She can\u2019t keep him from me.\u201d<\/p>\n He goes quiet again and for a second I wonder if he\u2019s smart enough to realize what he\u2019s doing. Maybe it is just about him wanting John-Boy. He taps on the dashboard and turns Springsteen up. He fidgets off-beat with the music and makes me anxious.<\/p>\n \u201cMaybe I should have bought some flowers,\u201d he says.<\/p>\n We pull up to the house. The lights are on and there\u2019s a car I\u2019ve never seen behind Helen\u2019s. I look over at Jerry. He clears his throat and says he\u2019ll be five minutes, tops. He gets out and walks past the charred remains of Helen\u2019s rose bush. He pounds on the door. I hear him yell her name over and over. I open another beer and watch him run inside as soon as the door opens. Then it slams shut.<\/p>\n I look across the street through the rear-view mirror at my house. Nora\u2019s car is gone. All the lights are off except the living room. She could be anywhere. Maybe she\u2019s with her parents, telling them about me. About the choice she\u2019s given me. My father-in-law might be telling her to quit me for good. That he\u2019s always hated me. He\u2019ll kill me if she just asks. Say the word and that spineless prick is dead, sweetie.<\/p>\n Or maybe she\u2019s with someone. Someone she met at the dental clinic where she works. Maybe they\u2019re having a nice dinner on the town and laughing. She\u2019ll tell me it doesn\u2019t mean anything, just a friend taking another friend to dinner during a life crisis. These things happen, don\u2019t they?<\/p>\n I drink it off my mind and look at the dashboard clock. It\u2019s been more than five minutes. I roll the windows down for air and I hear muffled yelling and barking. Three people going at it. Two against one.<\/p>\n Then the front door busts open and Jerry comes out. Helen\u2019s man \u2013 some guy I\u2019ve never seen before, bigger than Jerry\u2013comes out and grabs a hold of Jerry\u2019s shirt collar. He throws Jerry down on and the grass and Jerry gets up.<\/p>\n \u201cYou motherfucker,\u201d Jerry says.<\/p>\n He takes a good swing at the guy. It lands on his cheek and he staggers back. There\u2019s a gash on Jerry\u2019s right arm and blood runs from it. The man gets up and lands a fist in Jerry\u2019s stomach. Jerry falls back but finds his footing. He tries to get the man in a chokehold. The man gets out of the way and punches Jerry in the kidney. Jerry jumps on the man and they fall down to the ground. John-Boy stands in the doorway barking at Jerry. Helen\u2019s next to the dog, yelling at them both. Lights go on all down the street, neighbors watching the final act of the local tragedy. I get out to pull Jerry off this guy but Jerry pushes me back. I stand off to the side and listen for sirens.<\/p>\n \u201cJerry,\u201d Helen says. \u201cStop! Get off of him! Do you want the kids to see?\u201d<\/p>\n The man gets Jerry into a hold. Jerry tries to break from it but the man is bigger and gives Jerry one more good punch to the kidney. Jerry breathes heavy and he can\u2019t do anything else. He calls the guy a son of a bitch over and over. It\u2019s his dog, Jerry says. It\u2019s his life.<\/p>\n The man throws Jerry and he lands face down on the grass. I go over and pick him up. Blood\u2019s coming from his nose. The front of his shirt is sweaty and red. His arm looks mangled. He wraps his arm around my shoulder and lets me take him to the car.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m so sorry about this, Helen,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n \u201cJust get him out of here,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you want some flowers?\u201d<\/p>\n She looks at me with eyes that scream bloody murder. She waits until the man comes back inside then flips off Jerry and closes the door. She turns the porch light off and me and Jerry stagger in the dark.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Back on the road, Jerry holds napkins to his nose. His left arm is red.<\/p>\n \u201cFucking John-Boy bit the hell out of my arm,\u201d he says. \u201cLittle bastard got mad when I tried to pick him up. Bit me real good.\u201d<\/p>\n He laughs for a few seconds, blood stained on his face. He laughs so hard I think he might cry. Then he stops and looks at his arm.<\/p>\n \u201cYou know,\u201d he says. \u201cI love that woman. Always will. I guess that doesn\u2019t matter now. What do I do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d I say. \u201cNothing. Get over it. You\u2019re lucky no one called the cops. I didn\u2019t even want to take you. I could have been thrown in jail with you.\u201d<\/p>\n We pull into Jerry\u2019s motel. He sits still for a moment, thinking about tonight and the next step. He pats my shoulder and tells me I\u2019m a good friend and that he can always count on me. I tell him anytime. I tell him we\u2019ll have a drink tomorrow night and he\u2019ll forget all about this. That both of us will feel better. I think he wants to believe that as much as I do. He gets out and heads to his room. I pull back onto the highway.<\/p>\n As I drive I think about Nora. I think about the men without women at the bar, all sad-eyed and dead. I think about Jerry, bloody and stupid, and Helen, and words that hurt, and burnt rose bushes.<\/p>\n I turn the car around and head back to my house. I pull up on the curb. Her car is there now but the lights are off. I grab a pen and write a note on a fast-food napkin. I write: Call you in the morning. Hope you enjoy these. Sorry they aren\u2019t too pretty, this was all they had. L, Bill<\/em>. I reach in the backseat and grab the flowers.<\/p>\n The night air is colder now and I worry the flowers will die overnight. I put the note under the bouquet and set them in front of the door. I think about knocking but decide to let her sleep. I look around the neighborhood and hear nothing but the buzzing streetlights. I walk back to the car and drive away. The stench of old flowers follows me until I get to the highway, and then it dissipates into the cold, late night air.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" \u201cI\u2019ll take the I Love You Today,\u201d I say. I take out a crumbled five dollar bill and hand it to her.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":182,"featured_media":17203,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[2712],"class_list":["post-17188","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-colin-brightwell","writer-colin-brightwell"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17188","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/182"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17188"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17188\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17205,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17188\/revisions\/17205"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/17203"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17188"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17188"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17188"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}