The crowbar was stuck. I couldn\u2019t find the nail and I was trying to push the sill up just enough. My nose was an inch from the gap, sweat blurred both lens of my eyeglasses.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t hear the backyard gate open or a greeting, if there was a greeting, until the stranger\u2019s head was right next to mine, one eye closed. I smelled beer. \u201cWell, looks like you\u2019ve got yourself quite a project here.\u201d<\/p>\n
I was too tired to startle. I turned in slow motion to get a better look, and he was perfectly blurry, which was a perfect metaphor for my life. I removed my glasses. The man pulled away from his inspection and returned to symmetry, feet shoulder length apart, hands propped on waist, sixty-degree elbow bend creating triangle windows through which I saw a U-Haul truck in front of the house across the street, the driver side door open.<\/p>\n
\u201cToo many knots,\u201d he pointed at the wood on the ground. \u201cThe moisture will get right in there and you\u2019ll have the same problem.\u201d He rubbed the back of his neck. \u201cWent to Home Depot or Lowe\u2019s, right?\u201d\u00a0 I nodded. \u201cYou want to go to a lumber yard. More expensive, but you get the right wood.\u201d His voice trailed off and he looked worried. He said I could\u2019ve bought it primed. \u201cBut you should prime it again. Extra protection. Honestly, the prime\u2019s more important than the paint. And go to a paint store. Don\u2019t listen to anyone at Home Depot.\u201d<\/p>\n
He ran his hand along the vertical edges where I removed the trim and said it didn\u2019t look like it had been sealed. \u201cThe framings fine, though.\u201d He jerked his thumb at the truck and said after he unloaded it if I had time this afternoon or tomorrow morning we could go to the lumberyard. I made eye contact with his knee and told him money\u2019s a little tight. \u201cBut I\u2019ll keep a close eye on the knots.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI know what you mean.\u201d He motioned again with his thumb, then wiped his hand against his jeans and offered a handshake. \u201cI didn\u2019t introduce myself. I\u2019m Mike. Your new neighbor.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Mike\u2019s face is red. Always. He\u2019s the one that brought it to my attention. High blood pressure. Stress. Alimony. \u201cI thought it would get better. My twin boys graduated from college this past May. They\u2019re headed to law school. That\u2019s good. I know. But they want to take a year off and travel to Europe and my ex is saying I should pitch in.\u201d He looks at his lawn which is grossly perfect. No weeds. Freshly edged. Not a single dark patch where a dog might have found a favorite spot to urinate and I don\u2019t know how that can be possible. \u201cWhat gets me is she always says, \u2018Of course. Of course, take a year off.\u2019\u00a0 And when I mention maybe they work at a law firm just to make sure this is something they really want to pursue, I\u2019m the bad guy. That\u2019s how she gets them on her side.\u201d He looks back at his lawn. \u201cShe\u2019s threatening to bring me back to court.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
The first time I ever denied my son\u2019s existence was on a first date. One of those Internet match things. I didn\u2019t plan the denial. It bubbled out like a burp.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s easier, now.<\/p>\n
Of course, I could tell the truth. Of course. But people don\u2019t know what to say, or they try to empathize by telling me about their cousin\u2019s son or a friend of a friend. When Mike asks I don\u2019t lie. I say Matt lives in Arizona. Unfortunately, Mike presses. He asks what he does for work. I reply you know and shrug my shoulders and Mike nods and says yeah, I know. But he doesn\u2019t. My son didn\u2019t graduate college and isn\u2019t taking a year off to find himself before heading to law school. Matt\u2019s two weeks in on his third rehab.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019m standing on a ladder, trying to remove a tree from my gutter, trying to determine how deep the roots snaked beneath the shingles when I hear Mike beneath me. \u201cYou need to clean the gutters twice a year.\u201d Mike is not being sarcastic. \u201cJune and December first will give you the most bang for your buck.\u201d He says that December is easy to remember because you clean them before you put up the Christmas lights and as for June, well June is his birthday, so that\u2019s how he remembers but he\u2019s certain there are other systems. He\u2019s saying how Memorial Day could work and then you get the long weekend to take care of it, but flag day might be better. Before you hang out the flag, clean the gutters. He nods to himself and smiles.<\/p>\n
I look back at the tree and consider cutting it as close to the roof as possible. \u201cI could help you,\u201d Mike shouts. \u201cJust not today. I have to pick up Luke and drive him up to Maine. But this December after I do mine, I\u2019ll come over.\u201d Before he leaves, he tells me that after I remove the shingles don\u2019t buy any plywood if I see any rot because he has plenty of plywood I can use. He always keeps spare pieces of plywood. \u201cComes in handy for jobs like this.\u201d<\/p>\n
I watch him walk across my yard, filthy, baggy jeans falling off his backside. There\u2019s a heaviness to his step like it\u2019s difficult to simply lift his feet off the earth. Matt got that walk. But I don\u2019t know when I noticed. I try to recall, fishing through memories. They all refer back to was he was using? How bad? Milestones like graduations, summer jobs, vacations have been replaced with jail, rehab, parole.<\/p>\n
Looking at Mike\u2019s house from my ladder I want to tell him that this is the first summer in seven years that I\u2019m not working two jobs. Since the beginning of June, I haven\u2019t worked over fifty hours a week. But he might ask why? Not a nosey, prying type of question. Just why. And I\u2019d feel obligated to tell him. I\u2019ve been trying for weeks to think of a clever analogy between the cost of law school and rehab to lighten the mood.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I\u2019m surprised when Mike rings my doorbell. I\u2019m making supper. He\u2019s holding two beers, offers me one, and tells me he needs to talk. After he takes a long gulp I ask, \u201cSo, what\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMan. I think I need to play my boys off one another like they\u2019re doing to me, you know?\u201d I don\u2019t and I don\u2019t hide my confusion. \u201cLike I can tell Luke, that Dave really doesn\u2019t want him applying to the same law schools as him because he wants some space. You know something like that. Or tell Dave, Luke doesn\u2019t think he can get into an Ivy League school, because he can\u2019t and then he wouldn\u2019t get in.\u201d He shakes his head. I\u2019m staring at his chest because I don\u2019t want to make eye contact. \u201cI know it\u2019s a shitty thing to do and it\u2019s not like I want them to hate each other or anything but I can\u2019t afford both of them going to law school. And Luke\u2019s the smarter one.\u201d He spots a picture of my son on the fridge. He walks over, unsteady.<\/p>\n
\u201cThere\u2019s got be financial aid or loans.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought about a second mortgage but I just got the mortgage on this house.\u201d He removes the picture from the fridge. Matt looks good. It was a month after his second rehab, the one he said, \u201cWorked this time. Really worked.\u201d Mike is teetering a bit back and forth, holding the picture. I think how I always refer to that picture as the one taken a month after his second rehab and not four days before I found him passed out in the bathroom. A day later he left. I remember his sponsor telling me addicts have a way of finding other addicts. I still don\u2019t know what that\u2019s supposed to mean.<\/p>\n
\u201cMan it sure would be easier with just one.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not so sure.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNah, it would be.\u201d<\/p>\n
I want to say he\u2019s in rehab. I want to watch Mike\u2019s face, then listen to him tell me about his cousin\u2019s wife\u2019s brother who got addicted to painkillers after hip surgery. It was tough. Sorry. It\u2019ll work out.<\/p>\n
The phone rings. It\u2019s an unfamiliar number which I know means its New Beginnings Recovery Center.<\/p>\n
I pick up and the counselor goes through the usual rigmarole. It concludes with, \u201cIt\u2019s not going well.\u201d Of course, this is in direct contrast to what he just said before that\u2014patience, time, it\u2019s a process. I tell him it\u2019s been less than three weeks, but in my head I\u2019m trying to figure out the exact number of days Matt\u2019s been there because I dropped him off on Sunday at six pm and that can\u2019t count for a whole day so it\u2019s really only been nineteen full days. The counselor doesn\u2019t say much else, but it still takes him a good fifteen minutes to reach the big finale. \u201cHe has to want to get sober. He needs to make an effort.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019m thinking once I get off the phone, I\u2019ll look at the contract.<\/p>\n
Mike leaves and misses the step off the porch. He stumbles, catches himself, then tilts his head back and drains his beer. \u201cYou know, we see a lot of addicts and we can tell pretty quickly which ones might have a chance,\u201d the counselor says. He coughs and quickly corrects himself. \u201cI\u2019m not saying he doesn\u2019t have a chance. Everyone has a chance. What I\u2019m saying is he has to give us a chance. Make an effort, you know?\u201d<\/p>\n
I say yes and go to the bedroom. I page through the contract, looking for reimbursement. He keeps talking and I keep saying aha, and he finally asks if maybe I could speak with Matt.<\/p>\n
There\u2019s an awkward silence and when I think Matt\u2019s on the phone I say, \u201cHello? Matt?\u201d\u00a0 He gruffly answers, \u201cYes.\u201d And I attempt a joke, \u201cMatt, why don\u2019t you let those guys do their job and earn their money. Go to a few of the therapy sessions.\u201d There\u2019s silence on the other end. I stop flipping through the contract.<\/p>\n
The next voice I hear is the counselor’s. \u201cWell, let\u2019s hope for the best.\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Mike comes over when I\u2019m mowing the lawn. He motions for me to turn off the mower. \u201cLook I can help you with the weeds.\u201d He spreads out both his arms. \u201cI know a guy who owes me a favor. But he won\u2019t touch dandelions. Not allergic or anything. Principle. Says people should be able to take care of dandelions. That\u2019s a matter of effort.\u201d The phone rings and I tell Mike I\u2019m expecting a call which is a lie. \u201cOf course. Of course.\u201d<\/p>\n
The voice on the end of the line says, \u201cMatt\u2019s split. He stole two bottles of Percocet.\u201d I don\u2019t know who is talking. I mean, I know who is talking, its Dr. Seth Learner, head of New Beginnings Recovery Center but I\u2019ve never met Seth.<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t think he\u2019ll use them.\u201d Dr. Learner says. \u201cHe might use a few but not use use them. He\u2019ll sell them to buy alcohol.\u201d He muses on whether addicts with selective substance abuse are more difficult to help than those that will get high on anything. \u201cAlthough the worst are those that hop onto anything.\u201d He drags out anything like its four words. \u201cGambling, shopping, sex, eating. Anything in life that provides the tiniest happiness. Terrible.\u201d The doctor talks and I watch Mike on his knees digging in the earth with what looks like a long screwdriver, but I\u2019m sure it\u2019s some special dandelion removal tool. Each one he holds up to the sky and inspects. Sometimes he wipes the dirt off the tap root. The counselor says I should call them if Matt calls me. Also, I should tell him to go back to the Center. Regardless of his condition he should return. And if Matt tells me where he is, call them. They will go pick him up. Or try to.<\/p>\n
I watch Mike crawl along the lawn. He pulls out a mini bar bottle from his pants and unscrews the cap. He looks at his little pile of dying dandelions then downs it. I thought he would look around. Or at the house. But he finishes the bottle with two gulps and shoves the empty in his pocket pushing his pants down exposing his butt crack.<\/p>\n
He\u2019s not trying to help me.<\/p>\n
I head into the bedroom and grab all the paperwork from New Beginnings Recovery Center, the pamphlets with pictures of people smiling who you know are actors but want to believe aren\u2019t, notes I scribbled on sticky notes, and all the legal stuff which I never read. I push everything into a bent manila folder, then go outside.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I didn\u2019t hear the backyard gate open or a greeting, if there was a greeting, until the stranger\u2019s head was right next to mine, one eye closed. I smelled beer. \u201cWell, looks like you\u2019ve got yourself quite a project here.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":18278,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[1583,702,898],"class_list":["post-17939","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction","tag-addiction","tag-alcohol","tag-recovery","writer-roger-dagostin"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17939","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\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=17939"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17939\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":18273,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17939\/revisions\/18273"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/18278"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=17939"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=17939"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/mrbullbull.com\/newbull\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=17939"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}