Keep Your Chin Up

When Raymond came home and told his wife he’d been fired from yet another menial job, that was the last straw.  After eleven years of marriage, Elizabeth finally gave up.  She decided to take their two boys, Sam and Mark, and go to Bridgeport and stay with her mother for a while.  She threw a few things in a suitcase and told the boys to get in the car.  Raymond followed her out and hung onto the driver’s door.

            “It won’t happen again,” he said.  “I’ll get help.  I promise.”

            Elizabeth turned the key, started the ten-year-old Buick, and drove away, trailing a cloud of blue exhaust smoke down the drive.  The boys waved goodbye through the back window.

            Elizabeth settled in at her mother’s place and got a job at Wal-Mart.  In a couple of weeks, her old boyfriend from high school telephoned.  She didn’t want to talk to him, even though he coached youth basketball and had a good paying job at the windshield glass factory. 

            “Hello, Beth, this is Scott.”

            “Who?”

            “Scott Pennington.”

            “Oh—okay.”

            “Hey, I heard you were back home.  How are you?”

            “Fine.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Of course I’m sure.  Why wouldn’t I be?”

            “I heard you’re going through a bad time, a divorce situation.  Is there anything

I can do?”

            “No.  There’s nothing you can do.  Anyway, it’s not a divorce.  Why did you call?”

            “Well, I just wanted to tell you that I have my share of regrets.”

            “None of that matters.  That was a long time ago.  I’m married now, and I have two kids.”

            “Don’t you remember the fun we used to have?”

            “Look, Scott, I’m getting ready to go to work.  I don’t have time to chit-chat.”

            “Just the same, I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry.  Somewhere along the way, I messed up.  I don’t know exactly how, but I guess it was me.  I give you that much.”

            “Don’t worry about it.”

            “I’m glad you don’t have any hard feelings.”

            “Things turned out for the best.”

            “What?  How can you say that?”

            “Because, I married a good man.” 

            “Since you brought it up, I heard your husband hits the bottle, and he gets rough now and then.  How can you say that’s for the best?” 

            “Ray wouldn’t hurt anyone.  You have no right to say that.  You don’t know him.”

            “I know he drinks a lot, and he’s messed up your life.  I know that much.  He’s not stable.”

            “He’s not a rock.  He’s not like you at all.”

            “What do you mean?” 

            “He’s sensitive.  Thanks for reminding me.”

“Are you saying you agree with me?  I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

            “I mean I have to hang up.  That’s what I mean.  Good bye.”

            “Good bye, Beth.  I’ll see you around.”

In the meantime, Raymond went to AA, just like he’d promised.  After two months without a drink, he was able to get a job at the Goodwill driving a panel truck, picking up used furniture and other items for the thrift store.  He helped unload and separate out the junk and stock the good stuff.  Half of the merchandise was worn out or damaged beyond repair and had to be thrown into the dumpster.

When Raymond tried to call Elizabeth, her mother always answered the telephone.

            “Hello.”

            “Hello, Irene, this is Ray.”

            “Hello, Ray.”

            “Please tell Elizabeth it’s me.  I need to talk to her.”

Sometimes Elizabeth would be out, and sometimes Irene said she was there but didn’t want to talk to him.

            “I’m sorry.  Beth doesn’t want to talk to you right now.  Why don’t you call back in a week or two?  Maybe she’ll change her mind by then.”

Irene was a nice lady.  She had every right to dislike Raymond, but she didn’t seem to harbor any ill feelings.  He didn’t like putting her in the middle of the disagreement. Irene’s husband, Samuel, had been an alcoholic too. Samuel died when Beth was a junior in high school.  He was only forty-three.  That’s when Elizabeth started dating Scott Pennington. She was lonely, and she needed stability.  If nothing else, Scott was stable.

“Are the boys there?”  Raymond said.

“Sure.”  Irene said.  “They’ve been waiting for you to call.  Let me round them up.”  Sam came to the telephone first.

“Hello, Dad.”

“Hello, Sam. How have you been?  Are you having a good time at Grandma’s?”

“Yeah.  Grandma cooks a lot of stuff.  She cooks better than you, Dad.”

            Raymond laughed.  “Well gee, thanks a lot!”  They both laughed.  Hearing Sam’s voice made Raymond feel good.  It was like being sober.  It was like stepping out of a fog into a warm sunny day. 

“It’s nice.  Grandma likes us being here, but when can we come home?”

“I don’t know, Sam.  I hope soon.  Your mom will let you know.”

“Mom said we have to wait until you get better.  That’s what she said.  Are you sick? When will you be better?”

“I’m trying.  I’ll be well before you know it.  I love you, son.”

“I love you too, Dad.  Here’s Mark.  Bye.”

“Good bye, Sam.”

Raymond earned minimum wage at the thrift store and after one month of solid work and dependability, his boss gave him a quarter on the hour raise.  Things were looking up, and the effects of alcohol were beginning to wear off.  The puffiness and redness in his face went away.  He was eating better, and his arms and legs were getting firm and strong.  Usually he could sleep through the night without craving a drink or getting the sweats.  The toughest part for him was rolling over during the night and reaching for Elizabeth, and she wasn’t there. During the day, as long as he kept busy, he hardly ever thought about booze.  Other down-and-outers came and went at the Goodwill, losing the battle after a couple days, or a couple weeks, but Raymond was determined.  It was the best he’d done in over three years.                                              

            Every day, Raymond controlled his impulse to call Elizabeth; he made one call each week, usually on Saturday morning. He didn’t want to press her.  After almost four months, Elizabeth gave in and came to the phone.  It was Thanksgiving Day.

            “Hello, Elizabeth.  How are you?”  he said.  He didn’t know how long she would talk. “How are the boys?”

            “We’re okay.  The boys are doing fine in school. They have new friends already.”

            Raymond felt weak.  He sat down at the kitchen table.  His throat was tight and his mouth was suddenly dry.  “That’s good,” he said.  It’s good to hear you.  To hear your voice.  I miss the boys.  I miss you, too.”

            He waited for a moment, but she didn’t say anything.  He was afraid she would hang up. He wanted to tell her everything all at once, but he didn’t want to mess it up.  “I have a job,” he said.  “I’ve been working at the Goodwill Store for eight weeks.  Elizabeth, I haven’t had a drink since you left.  I quit this time.  I promise you I have.”  Elizabeth was quiet. 

“Elizabeth?”

            “What?”

            “I said I quit.  Did you hear me?”

            “I was thinking about my dad and the last time he lied to me,” she said, as though Raymond wasn’t listening, and she was talking to herself.  “He made promises, and he really meant each one, but he couldn’t help himself.”

            Raymond shuddered like he’d been standing in the middle of a railroad track and had barely stepped off just as a train raced by.  He felt as though his meager efforts were nothing but a sham.  Everything she said was true.  Elizabeth waited for Raymond to say something, but he was too scared. 

            “The night he died, he told me he would get help and quit drinking for good,” she said.  “Mom found him dead on the couch the next day clutching an empty whiskey bottle.”

            Raymond knew the tragic story, but it was like he was hearing it for the first time.  He imagined Samuel’s eyes bulging, and vomit stringing from the corner of his mouth.

            “Raymond?”

            “Yes?”

“Don’t misunderstand.  I’m pulling for you,” she said.

Raymond thought he heard a change in her voice.  It was like when they were dating or maybe when they were first married.  He felt a flicker of hope.  He wanted to tell her his plans.  He thought maybe the timing was right.  “Hey, guess what.  I’m planning a Christmas dinner for you and the boys, a tree and everything, put some lights up and a tree, even a gift for you and the boys,” he said. 

“I remember last Christmas and the Christmas before that,” she said.  “We didn’t have a tree and there were no gifts except for the few things Mom was able to send.”

“It won’t be like last Christmas,” he said.  “Are you still there?”

            “Yes, I’m here.”

            “What do you say, can you come back home for Christmas?”

            “I’m not sure.  Maybe we need more time.  Give me a couple weeks to think it over.”

            “Sure I will.  I’ll call back in two weeks, on Saturday at nine.”

“Yes.  That’ll be fine,” she said.

            “Tell the boys I miss them,” he said.  And then he said, “Tell them I love them.”

            “Okay, I will.  I’ll tell them what you said.  Goodbye, Ray.”           

            The next two weeks passed slowly.  Raymond marked off each day on the kitchen calendar with a big red X.  Working at the Goodwill Store helped pass the time, but still, the days were long.  In the evenings, he watched TV or did laundry then went to bed early.  He woke up several times each night and lay awake listening to the furnace kick on and off and thinking about the up-coming telephone call and his Christmas plans.

When the day finally came, he got up early as usual and tidied up the house then did busywork for a couple hours.  He was eager to make the call but forced himself to wait until nine o’clock.  Irene answered the phone.  “Hello,” she said.

            “Hello, Irene.  This is Ray.”

            “How are you?”

            “I’m still working at the Goodwill. I got a quarter on the hour raise.”

            “Good for you!”  Irene said.  “You keep up the good work.”

            “Oh, I will.  I’ll do that for sure.  You can count on me,” Raymond said. “Hey, the reason I called, is Elizabeth there?”

            “No.  She took the boys to basketball practice.  I don’t know when she’ll be home.” 

            “Oh. Well, I just wanted to know about Christmas.  She said to call back today. Did she say anything?”

            “Yes, she did.  She said she’s not coming, but maybe the boys can visit.  The boys want to come and get their gifts.  We’ll wait and see.  That’s all she said.  I’m sorry, Ray.”

            “Does she want me to drive over and pick them up on Christmas Eve?  I can drive now.”

            “No.  She said maybe Scott could take them Christmas Day.  Leave here after they open their gifts and drop them off at your place around two in the afternoon.  He’s the only one who offered, and he has a four-wheel drive truck.”

            “You mean Scott Pennington from high school?”

            “Yes.  I thought it would be okay, and Beth went along with it.  Oh my, was I wrong, Ray?  I didn’t mean any harm.”

            “It’s okay, Irene.”

            “He’s been calling and came over a couple times.  He coaches basketball, and the kids seem to like him.  He’s dependable.  I hate to be the one to tell you, especially since you’re working now, and you got a raise and everything, you know.  Maybe she just needs more time to see if, well you know, to see if your job pans out.  She’s been through a lot.”

            There was a long pause at the other end.  Raymond couldn’t think of anything to say.  Finally, he said, “Yeah, I know she has.”

            “Believe me, Beth isn’t seeing Scott.  She wouldn’t do that.”

            “I know she wouldn’t,” he said.  “Well, I better let you go.  Tell the boys I’ll be looking for them.  Tell them not to eat too much candy on the way.  I’ll have Christmas dinner waiting for them, a big turkey and everything.  Tell Elizabeth I miss her.”

            “I sure will.  I’ll tell her about Christmas and your raise, too.  You’ll be running that place some day!”  They both laughed.

            “Thanks, Irene.”

            “Bye, Ray.  Keep your chin up.”

            The next day at work, while sorting through a bin of “slightly used” toys, Raymond found a worn-smooth basketball.  He held it in both hands like a chest pass, then he tried to palm it with one hand, but his hand was not quite big enough, and the leather ball was too slick.  He thought about the previous year when he had attempted to help out with Pee Wee basketball.  It was a time when he was more or less sober for a few weeks.  Sam and Mark were excited to have their dad at the gym, just like a normal dad.  Coach Lambert stationed Raymond under a basket because, as the coach said, Raymond didn’t have any “knowledge, skills, or abilities.”  Raymond’s sole responsibility was to catch the ball as it dropped softly through the net and toss it back out to a shooter.  As much as he could, Raymond bounced the ball to Sam or Mark, which caused Coach Lambert to blow his whistle and yell, “Spread the ball around!”  Sam and Mark were happy and proud of their dad, oblivious to the fact that retrieving basketballs really wasn’t an essential coaching position.  And then one day, one of the other parents thought she smelled alcohol on Raymond’s breath, and that was the end of it.  Arching his thumb toward the bleachers, Coach Lambert dismissed Raymond in front of everyone.  Raymond denied the allegation, but the coach was firm in his decision.  Raymond walked off the court with his head down.  He sat alone in the top row of the gymnasium for the remaining twenty-five minutes of practice.  No one replaced him under the net, and the shooters did just fine rebounding their own shots.  Occasionally, Mark or Sam looked up and then quickly turned away.  Raymond waved one time, a little half wave, but his boys pretended not to notice.  Now and then, some of the other boys looked up at Raymond, elbowed each other, and snickered.  After practice, Sam and Mark ran to the car and didn’t say anything during the drive.  Raymond offered to take them to the Dairy Queen where the other boys were meeting, but they wanted to go straight home.  When they arrived home, Elizabeth already knew what had happened.  Coach Lambert had called ahead and told her he didn’t want Raymond hanging around the team.  “He’s a bad example.  We can’t have any of that going on around the kids.”

Elizabeth met Raymond at the door.  She wasn’t angry, just sad and disappointed.  She was past the anger stage.  “You were okay when you left this morning.  I can’t believe you’d do this.  Where did you get the booze?” she said.

“I had a menthol cough drop.  That’s the only thing I can figure.  That woman must have smelled the cough drop.  Some of the parents are paranoid about me being there.  I swear, I wasn’t drinking.  Ask Sam and Mark.”

“Don’t bring the boys into this.  Lord knows how much you’ve made them suffer.  I’m about ready to get them out of this mess.  Can you imagine how they felt?”

“Imagine how I felt.  Put yourself in my shoes,” Raymond said.

This all happened the day before Raymond got fired, and everything snowballed, and Elizabeth took the boys and left for Bridgeport.  She didn’t know what else to do.

Being falsely accused gave Raymond the excuse he needed to go out that night and get drunk.  If no one believed him, what was the point in trying?  When the tavern closed, he didn’t want to go home; he didn’t want to face Elizabeth.  He slept in his car and showed up the next morning at work hung over and a wreck.  It was easy to spot.  His hair was matted down, and he needed a shave.  His clothes were crumpled, and dried vomit stuck to his flannel shirt.  Going to work in that condition was asking for trouble, but he wasn’t thinking straight.  Going home after being out all night would be worse.  Besides, he couldn’t face Elizabeth or the boys.  So, he went to work and got fired.

When Christmas day finally came, Raymond began looking out the window before eleven o’clock, even though the boys weren’t due to arrive until two.  It was a cold day, and the skies were overcast, but the state road was clear and dry.  Raymond thought he should get the forecast, just in case, so he turned on the Motorola radio that he’d bought at the Goodwill Store for five dollars and waited for the tubes to warm up.  Waiting for the old-fashioned radio to come to life didn’t give him the jitters the way it did when he first bought it.  The weather man came on and predicted a white Christmas, but he said the snow wouldn’t arrive until late afternoon or early evening.  He kept apologizing for the snow’s tardiness, which made Raymond chuckle.  “Good.  That should give them plenty of time to get here,” he said, out loud as though someone was in the kitchen with him.   He listened to Christmas music while he got the turkey ready to put in the oven.  Every song brought back happy memories.  He remembered the boys when they were little and still believed in Santa Claus and how excited they were when they tumbled down the stairs to open their Christmas gifts.   He remembered Elizabeth in her PJ’s sitting on the floor in front of the tree opening her packages, tossing wrapping paper into the air, laughing and having as much fun as the kids. 

After Raymond got the turkey in the oven, he peeled potatoes and put them aside in a pan of cold water.  He would cook the potatoes and mash them later just before the boys arrived.  Sam and Mark loved mashed potatoes.  If any were left over, Raymond planned to make potato cakes Sunday morning, on the griddle, the way he’d seen Elizabeth do, with sage and fresh ground pepper.  He had two cans of green beans and a can of corn ready to microwave.  For dessert, the boys could help bake cupcakes and put icing and sprinkles on top.

Raymond went into the living room and made sure the gifts were prominently displayed under the little Christmas tree.  The gifts were wrapped in green and red paper, and it said “Merry Christmas” on the paper.  He spent the morning and afternoon going between the kitchen to check the turkey and the front room to look out the window for the boys, but they didn’t show up.  Every now and then, he heard a car out on the highway, but it wasn’t them.  By four o’clock he began to worry that the boys had been in a wreck caused by a drunk driver.  He kept imagining a swerving car crossing the centerline and a head-on collision.  Raymond couldn’t stop imagining the boys injured and bleeding, and trapped in the wreckage.  He couldn’t stop blaming himself for the accident.

            At five o’clock, with the eight-pound turkey sitting cold on the kitchen table, Raymond called Elizabeth.  He didn’t want to frighten her, but he needed to know if Sam and Mark were okay.  Irene answered the telephone.

            “Hello, Irene, this is Ray.”

            “Oh, hello, Ray.  Merry Christmas to you,” she said.

            “Are the boys there?  Are they okay?”

            “Yes, they’re here.  They’re upstairs playing video games.”

            Raymond was relieved that the boys were okay, but his face flushed and the back of his neck felt hot.  “I’ve been waiting for them all day.  Didn’t Elizabeth say they’d be here around two o’clock? Someone should have called me.  Elizabeth should have let me know.  I was afraid.  I mean, since they didn’t make it here, I was afraid something might have happened.  Maybe an accident on the road, or something like that.”

            “Oh no, nothing like that.  No, they’re fine,” Irene said.

            Raymond felt like he’d been given a reprieve. “I’m really glad to hear that. That’s a big relief off my shoulders,” he said. “Can I speak to Elizabeth?”

            “Sure, let me see.  I’ll check.”

            He waited a few minutes.  He could hear voices in the background.  He could hear a man; he thought it might be Scott Pennington.  (It wasn’t Scott. It was Elizabeth’s Uncle James, Irene’s younger brother.) He could hear Elizabeth and Irene, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.  Finally, someone picked up the telephone.

            “Hello.”  

            “Hello, Elizabeth, this is Ray.”

            “I know,” she said.

            “I thought Sam and Mark were coming over for their gifts.  I cooked dinner for them too.  I thought they were coming home today,” Raymond said.
            “I’m sorry.  I said they could come to see you, but after thinking it over, I decided it wasn’t a good idea for Scott to take them there.  I mean, I really don’t want to deal with Scott, and I don’t know how you feel about him.  I didn’t want to have trouble. I’m sorry, Ray,” she said.

            “I have a tree and gifts for you and the boys.”  He motioned toward the little Christmas tree and the three gifts as though Elizabeth could see.  “I even baked a big turkey.”

            “That was very nice of you,” she said.  “Listen, I don’t think I’m ready for a Christmas gift.  I don’t know what I’m ready for.  I need more time.  I’m proud of what you’re trying to do.  You can call me again if you like.  You don’t have to wait until Saturday.  I have to go.”  Then she hung up.

            Raymond stood frozen in place for a while like the icicles hanging from the gutter, squeezing the telephone until his hand was cold and white.  Then he consciously loosened his grip and gently placed the receiver back on the cradle.  He went into the living room and stood beside the Christmas tree and stared out the picture window.  It was getting dark, and snow was coming down in big wet flakes.  He tried to console himself with the news that at least the boys were safe and warm and playing video games.  He turned the house lights off and the tree lights on, and sat on the couch watching the lights twinkle red and green and blue on the gifts under the tree.  Just to be sure, he held his hands up in the blinking light.  His hands were perfectly steady.  Outside, snow was falling into a deep, white blanket on the house and yard, muffling the sounds of passing cars.  Monday, he would return to the Goodwill Store and his job as though he had had a merry Christmas.  He would be a dependable worker and get another twenty-five cents on the hour raise.  He would help sort the clothes and furniture, and odds and ends people had given, with good intentions, during the holidays.  Some items would be used to restock shelves, but the damaged items that could not be repaired would be discarded.