Part 19 (1/2)

27

The Untuned Instruain Fail better-Sa lot in the pissy, indifferent rain you get in New England autued over us back hoh bea silver shi+p of a car lunges into place I cli a newspaper over my head A few knocks on the side , and the heavy door swings open

No sooner does the door sla juniper scent of gin It brings in in his car?

You uys

He has a bald, remarkably flat head, which he's combed a few russet strands across-plus a beaverish overbite He asks how much tietherlotion Or I have gin on the brain

Big accomplishment, he says, those first few months Mind if I smoke?

The automatic s huarette His overbitein and out of sobriety? Hard He depresses the lighter in its socket You detox over and over You never get to the good part

I'hter pops, and he presses it to the end of his smoke

I have to adgestions

As Jahter in the hole, you can see how-fro side to side to thwart him His head sways a little as he jabs at the dashboard three or four tiain to the end of his burning stogie, sending sparks all over his lap Finally, he just drops the lighter in the ashtray like it belongs there

This, I think, is as drunk ato steer the car I'ive the shi+tfaced room Small white droplets of rain tap on the windshi+eld when a knock on the back car door -footed David, red bandana around his head, along with a guy froroup named Jack

Jack of the red curly hair, skittery-eyed Jack, who-on being introduced to me first-explained that he had a little touch of the schizophrenia, as he held index finger one inch froh to hold down a job at the box factory But he once showed up to arrange chairs with tinfoil over his head ht's helirlfriend was beah the radio It's a tribute to the radical equality of the roo

We say our hellos, David inquiring after my son and Joan Then everybody sits in unwieldy silence I keep waiting for another passenger to ask where the hell the gin is, and when they don't, I convince myself I don't shter lolling in the vast ashtray and wonder

Jack says, I have a Tab I'd like to open, but I don't have enough to share around We all tell hio ahead

About that time, a whoosh of das open the back door He squeezes Jack in thethe Tab like a bazooka he's about to fire off I strap on hts flash across Ja to feel his plane toward a fogged runway, and to his credit, he drives slow enough Ulti out, I see enough tilted els The crowd out front is uys in leather jackets and vests and black chaps Chains hang off their belt loops, and each foot is shod in a storm trooper's boot I spy nary a ferab Gerry's elbow to tell hier, nicely as I can-his pal James is shi+tfaced

The rain's stopped, and a few shy stars are trying to blink

You're ether in Lexington for four years

Trust me A drunk man Extremely

If that's true, Gerry says a little wearily, he can't speak I'll take his keys away But where is he, anyway?

Through the church full of asse bikers, I follow Gerry back to check thearound in the few seconds before Gerry's uy with frizzledfor the trench-coat dude? He's under that big loing Christh, Ja around the trunk like a cut worured he was too clean for hoes up to say

James! Gerry hisses He's squatted down to peer under the branches Jauy with le under the tree and drag Ja He sits on the ground with his head hung down His hair has co up like a car hood popped open A few stray pine needles stick to one cheek

Looks like you been to a party tonight, brotha, the shaved-head guy says

I' at random intervals His hands cover his face as he busts out in backbreaking sobs

The bald guy pats his back, saying, That's all right, honey, we all been there

A guy with a tear tattoo says, You're in the right place, buddy

After a while, tear-tattoo asks , and when I say lawyer lawyer, he says, Maybe I should get his card

Gerry fishes around in Ja out his car keys Then the two bikers sling him up and shoulder him, spread-armed as if for crucifixion They transport hiood bouncers The bald guy asks if this is where ant him When I say sure, they deposit him, aslant, onto the back pew

In corner chairs in the back kitchen, we find David and Jack bent over a can of pink cake frosting, each holding a tablespoon David's spoonful of icing has twin teeth h it like Jeep tracks in mud

Busted, David says

This was extra from the cupcakes, Jack explains

Gerry tells theon Jack sits folded in half, hugging his knees as his forehead creases With the toe of his shoe, he outlines the same linoleu, That is genuinely terrifying Why'd he go out drinking?

Gerry shakes his head, saying, Mood and happenstance don't drive us to drink Turning to Jack, he says, Explain it to the newcoot drunk, Jack says, because he's an alcoholic We are given a daily reprieve based on our spiritual condition Without spiritual help, the lure of the drink is too ? I ask David

It's their book, he says The once uber-logical David tells me with aficionado's conviction that at the halfway house where he's a current resident-and Jack a former one-there's a hard-core book study every Sunday I should go

Riding back to Lexington in the backseat, I sit between passed-out, open and receding like a tide-and curly-headed Jack I think with rue of Joan the Bone's injunction to ask the first person I saw aboutto prove what crazy bullshi+t her roup concept is Whatever Jack's brief spells of clarity, he rarely goes to anutty

So I start whispering my tale of marital woe to Jack, who sits in the hunched posture of so a red curl over the crease in his forehead

Eventually, I wind down and ask, what should I do? And I wait for the word salad of his scrambled cortex to spew forth Instead, his eyes meet mine evenly, and he says-as it seems everybody says-You should pray about it

But what if I don't believe in God? It's like they've sat me in front of a mannequin and said, Fall in love with hi