Bernie sat alone in his house, slowly rocking in his rocking chair. The stub of a cigar in one hand the other opening and closing rhythmically to some unheard music. Bernie was staring at his fireplace which was empty of logs and clean, for it was late May and warm outside.
The morning paper was on the end table a few feet away and it kept occurring to Bernie he should read it. He read the paper every morning. Why not this morning too? But the paper seemed miles away. Any effort to pick it up, let alone try to read it seemed incomprehensible.
Bernie’s cat, Rex, appeared at an open widow and meowed loudly to announce himself before leaping onto the floor. Bernie wondered where the damn cat went when it was gone for hours at a time. Sometimes it brought in a bird. Not today. Rex rubbed against Bernie’s leg then leapt onto his lap. Bernie absently petted the cat who started to purr like an engine. Did the cat love him? Of if they magically reserved sizes would Rex kill and eat him? If Bernie moved out and someone else moved in, wouldn’t Rex be sitting in that person’s lap? Bernie liked that Rex was big. Thought not initially happy about being stuck with Edith’s cat, Bernie was at least happy that it was a sizable beast, not some frou-frou sissy thing.
Damn Edith. It had been almost a year now since she’d left. Moved in for awhile with her sister, Clara, but a few weeks ago Clara told him that Edith had found a fellow and was living with him. Fuck that guy and for that matter fuck Edith. Didn’t like my moodiness, she’d said. What the hell was all that for better or worse stuff about, then? Sorry, Edith, I wasn’t perfect every fucking second of every fucking day. I was also a good provider, a good lover, a good friend. Helped with chores even after working all day. So I got blue sometimes, who doesn’t? I was a damn good father too. Look how while Clyde is doing. I was a damn good role model for him. Never hit the boy. Never yelled at him. Well fuck Edith anyway. Twenty-four years of my life I gave to that woman. Wish I could get it back.
Wonder what Clyde is up to right now. Just started a job at some big company. Hired fresh out of college. Damn good salary. Proud of that boy. Bet he was getting a lot of tail. Just like his old man had. Had. That’s the thing there. It’s all past. What have I got to look forward to now? Collecting pension checks. Making shitty dinners. Going out sometimes. An occasional ball game. Bowling league. Maybe a trip now and again to Tahoe to visit his cousin and gamble a little. No love in his life. Alone most of the time.
Bernie started to rock more vigorously. Rex was having none of it and jumped off. Bernie could feel himself getting more agitated. Depression usually followed. Could take a pill but not before trying to calm himself. The pills relieved the nerves but left him feeling dulled, tired, uninterested.
Then the vision: In Nam, in the jungle, on patrol, VC in the area. His buddy Lange babbling nervously, the colored fella, Horton, chain-smoking. Then the explosion. The remains of the Lieutenant flying past them. Crenshaw lying on the ground his guts hanging out. Screams. Shouts. Bullets zipping everywhere. Horton, yelling, “I’m hit!” As he fell into the mud. Crouching, aiming but not sure, initially, where to shoot. Finally seeing where the gooks were and opening up on them. Watching a few charge toward them. Hitting one for sure, a bullet tearing through his throat. Thinking, Christ, I did that. For sure I killed another human. Never mind that he was a gook. But he kept firing. Might have killed another. Impossible to tell. So much shouting. All that blood. Horton crying for his mama. Used to be such a tough guy. No one is tough when they’ve been hit and are lying in the mud on the other side of the fucking world. The VC retreating. Relief but mixed with that post engagement adrenaline that seems like it’ll stay with you forever. The terror of what you’ve just seen and what you’ve done and how close you came to dying and how dead some people are that you’d been talking to twenty minutes ago.
The vision faded. Gone at last. They came when he was somnolent. Vivid. Like he was watching a goddamned movie.
I was alive then. Not like this, not like sitting in a goddamned rocking chair in a house with only a fucking cat for a companion. This is not living.
Bernie thought about the gun in his desk drawer. He thought about the nearly full bottle of pills. They would do the trick. He thought about taking a drive to the bridge and jumping off. But he thought about Clyde. He didn’t want his son to have deal with that. He cared too much about the kid to do that to him. As for Edith: fuck her. Why would she care, anyway? Maybe it wasn’t too late. Bernie’s friend Grady had mentioned his sister being newly single and looking to meet someone. He’d initially dismissed the notion out of hand but maybe he should talk to Grady about it. He’d met her once. About his age. Not bad looking. Might be just the ticket.
The hell with it. Why not? Why was I so dismissive? Aww hell she’s probably met someone else by now. That was, what, a week ago. Maybe. Maybe I should take advantage of opportunities. Not be so dismissive.
That night Bernie gave Grady a call. Yeah, she was still available. Why didn’t Bernie come over for a barbecue on Saturday? He’d make sure Krista was there. She’d been separated from her husband for six month and was finally ready to date. The divorce would be final soon enough. Grady was sure they’d hit it off. She liked bowling and trips to Tahoe too. They’d have plenty in common.
The barbecue went really well. Grady’s wife had confided to Krista that it was a set-up and she didn’t object. Bernie had a nice chat with Krista and they made a date for dinner a few nights later. Bernie had made a point of only drinking beer at the barbecue. Usually he and Grady had a few snorts of whiskey. Bernie took no chances. He didn’t slur his words. Hell, he was pretty articulate. Downright charming. Krista was a healthy, handsome woman. A nurse. She’d be sensitive. Kind. Not like Edith.
That night Bernie — for the first time in awhile — slept like a log. Sure he dreamed about the jungle, the fire fight and some of the other shit he dealt with in Nam, but that was par for the course, never woke him up.
He spent a happy Sunday puttering in his garden during the day and bowling that night. When he got home that night Rex was showing off a rat that he’d made short work of. Bernie was proud of the mighty hunter. He also got a call from his son. Clyde was doing great, had moved into a new condo and was seeing a girl. What a great kid. He told his boy, you’re old man has a date in a few days. Clyde seemed pleased.
Monday morning Edith called about some left over business. Bernie was in such a good mood that he actually had a nice chat with his ex. He even asked about how she was doing. More than that, he told her about his forthcoming date. Edith was clearly happy for him.
Jeez, Bernie thought, sometimes your life can change pretty quickly, if you just get off the chair. All it had taken was a phone call. Yeah, sure, maybe it wouldn’t work out but at least he was trying. Staying in the old ball game. That’s what’s it all about.
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