Page 69 of Delayed Intention
Alan sets down a King Soopers bag that appears to be full of electrolyte drinks and IV fluid. He attaches a machine to my arm to check my blood pressure and heart rate. He’s probably wondering if I’m on the ground due to dehydration or if there’s something more serious going on. I want to say I’m a little volume-depleted, but I decide I’m in no position to argue.
When he helps me up, my head swims, and I start to lose my footing. Okay, I’ve never been this hungover. I would have made it without him, but it would have been a crawl to the kitchen rather than an upright walk. I collapse into an armchair in my room, willing the world to stop spinning. No use. Eyes open or closed, I’m whirling either way.
“How are you here?” I manage.
“I’m home on leave for a bit. I wasn’t home for twenty minutes when all Michelle wants is for me to get my ass up here. I think she wants me to patch you up so she can kill you.”
Guilt pours over me like molasses syrup. I don’t want to know how short his leave is now that he has used part of it to drive all the way here to help me off the floor.
As if reading my mind, he says, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get back to her as soon as we get this liter in you.” He regards me with an IV bag and kit in his hand. “Or two.”
“Fuck Alan, I’m sorry.” And I am. Thanks to the shit choices I’ve been making, I’ve been apologizing so much lately it sounds empty even when I mean it.
“You’re my brother too man.” He looks over at me. “I heard a tale that you’re going to settle down and give dating angry women a rest. That true?”
“If I survive this hangover. Avoiding angry women, leaving my sister aside, is my new vibe.” He starts an IV on me and, using a hanger, secures the IV bag to my bedpost. My brother-in-law, from a more religiously observant family than mine, has never been much of a drinker. The most I’ve ever seen him drink is the four required glasses of wine during the Passover Seder. But even then, he cuts it with a significant amount of water. Still, he shows no judgment of me or the mess I’m in. I guess part of him knows my sister will give me enough hell for the two of them.
“And the settling down part?”
“Well, she’s just a friend. At least, I hope we’re still friends.” I rub absently at a growing discomfort in my chest. “Even if she could forgive me for what the Mr. Hyde in me spouted off at her, she wants love and commitment. That’s not me. You know that.”
He’s pulling my bedding off and throwing it on the floor.
“Let me get you a blanket that doesn’t smell like it’s from a frat house and feed your dog. I’ll be back.”
I lean back in my armchair. He comes back with an electrolyte drink, a bucket, clean sheets, and a blanket. He looks at the pile on the floor.
“Is this worth trying to wash or should I toss it out?”
“Not your problem Al, I’ll sort it later. Thanks for all this.”
He’s back by my side with the small BP machine to recheck my pressure.
“That’s a little better but I want to see you drink something before I leave.” He hands me two anti-nausea tabs from a bag in his pocket.
“Look, Josh, no one thinks they’re relationship material until they realize they are.”
“Not everyone can have what you and Michelle have.”
“Okay, now that’s patently untrue. Yes, you have to leave your comfort zone, to find someone. But even when you do, that doesn’t mean that you’re set for life. A relationship like I have with Michelle is work, man, although your sister makes it easy,” he smiles to himself, only proving my point, “but even with that, it requires effort on both of our parts. No one escapes that.”
“Yeah well, I blew it up, so, doesn’t matter now. Besides, I need to deal with the shambles of my professional life before anything else.”
“This Lara person better not cross paths with my wife anytime soon. She mutters under her breath things she’d do to her if she does.”
Not feeling like I deserved anyone’s loyalty, I changed the subject and asked after the girls.
“How happy were they to have their dad home?”
Alan absently adjusts the kippah he wears as he paints a picture of a nervous Etty trying to understand why her sisters were jumping around and grabbing this strange man’s legs. I can see the images in my mind, both the joy and the pain of the reunion and imminent departure.
Dutifully drinking the fluids, I ask, “How do you cope with the hard parts?” I don’t know if I could deal with the missed time, not to mention his own toddler not understanding who he is.
He smiles at me, and I can see his smile reaches his eyes.
“Every second I get with them is worth it.”
Once it’s clear I’m able to hold down liquids and walk on my own steam to the bathroom and back, he heads back to Nebraska.
