Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Skid Row Dad



                    
          The stench of wet cardboard forced Carl awake. He pushed his soggy room aside trying to ignore the laughter and whispers.
          “We told you to leave Portland. Snow’s comin. We to-o-o-ld you.”
          Carl pressed his hands against his ears. “If I leave they won’t know where I am.”
           “No one is lo-o-o-o-k-ing.”
          Carl had been trying to make peace with the voices in his head for years and every once in awhile they quieted down, but mostly everyone was screaming at the same time. Carl draped plastic around his shoulders, picked up his garbage bag and bottle of wine, then headed down the rain soaked street. All the familiar doorways and alcoves were occupied; he had to walk all the way to the bridge before he found shelter. Clearing a spot close to the cement walls, Carl built a small fire, hoping the cops wouldn’t drive by and make him put it out. He hung his socks on a stick, careful not to burn his only extra pair.
          He finished off the last of his wine. “If I’m not careful I’ll get sober,” he mumbled. “No, no,” Carl replied to the voices’ concern, “I know it’s not funny. Can’t you take a joke?”
          A police car stopped under the bridge. The officer rolled down the window. “How’s it going Carl?”
          Carl kept his distance. He never knew what they would do and he didn’t want to get locked up again.
          “Not bad, thanks. How’s the family?”
          “Just fine. Hey, Carl?”                                               
          “Yes?”
          “Aren’t you tired of living on the street?”
          “That I am, Officer that I am.”                    
          “You’re better than this. With your education you could do anything.”
          “I’m still working a few things out. Would you do me a favor?”
          “Sure.”
          Carl took an envelope from his garage bag. “If I don’t make it this time, will you see that my family gets this?” Carl tossed the letter through the window, then stepped back.
          “Sure, Carl, but will you do me a favor?”
          “I’ll try. What is it?”
          “Get yourself straightened out and get off the street. I don’t want to find you dead in a ditch. I mean it. Get out of here.”
          “Doing the best I can, sir.” Carl turned away, walking slowly to his fire. After the policeman left, Carl found the familiar paper bag on the ground. It contained a sandwich, coffee, a bar of soap, and a small towel.
          “Faith, it’s a beautiful thing,” Carl whispered as he removed the lid from the coffee.
          The voices giggled with delight. Carl ignored them as he dumped the contents of the bag in his lap… a card fell to the ground. Crape paper was glued to the card in the shape of a heart.
          “Please, Daddy, come home soon. I need you. Love Amy.”
          The voices laughed so loud Carl could no longer hear the pounding rain. He ran into the downpour… The voices followed. Thunder clapped as lightning flashed across the sky, then in an instant the rain stopped. The clouds separated as the sun streaked brilliant overhead then offered Carl a rainbow’s promise as it arched across his world. The voices screamed with delight as he fell to his knees.
           
Carl felt a tap on his shoulder. He forced himself to his feet, his cold legs stiff. He turned to the policeman, he knew was there to arrest him, and came face to face with the sweetest person on earth… his wife, Lorna. The first horrible thought that crossed his mind was, “You didn’t bring Amy did you?”
          Lorna removed a tissue from her purse, allowing Carl to see what she had hidden, then gently dabbed the tears from his eyes as she whispered,
          “No of course not, I know you don’t want her to see you this way. Let’s sit down so we can talk.” Lorna led him to his small fire under the bridge. She added a few twigs before sitting down.
          “I’ve met with him in worse places,” she thought.  “At least the stench of urine isn’t as strong here.” Carl had silently followed, silently sat and silently waited, but Lorna knew he was listening to the voices in his head. She could see the struggle on his face. She took his hand, holding it to her breast, “Who will win this time, Carl?”
          He didn’t have to ask who she was talking about; he knew she meant the voices. “How I’ve wished them gone,” he mumbled.
          “The time for wishing is over. You must insist.”
          Carl stood and started pacing, “You think I haven’t tried? You think this is what I want?” He spread his arms, “You think this is where I want to live?” His voice softened, “Don’t you know how much I love you? My heart aches that I can’t hold you. And Amy. How I miss my baby girl.” Lorna went to Carl forcing him to look at her.
           “You can hold me and you don’t have to miss me, or Amy.” She took his face in her hands and kissed his mouth. “I miss you. Please try again. You’ve been gone too long. I’m afraid.”
          Carl gently removed himself from her embrace and walked back to the fire where he sat pressing his hands against his ears.
           “Can you believe she’s trying again?” the voices whispered, “Can’t she take a hint? We want to be left alone. Tell her, Carl. Tell her we want to be left alone. Go on. Do it.”
          Carl rested his head on his knees and replied,
          “Thanks for whispering. I don’t think I could take a screaming match right now.”
          “You know we’re looking out for you,” The voices added.  Carl could hear some of them snickering at the back of his skull, like they were standing in the back of a theater enjoying a comedy. Carl decided to try something. Once in awhile it worked, but he hadn’t been able to keep it up for more than a few minutes. D {x (2x + 3)} 3 = x (2x+3) – 1.  Maybe that would be enough time. If they found out he could keep his thoughts separate, there would be hell to pay. Lorna walked over and sat next to him.
          Carl turned to her putting his finger to his mouth, “Shhhhh.” {x (2 x + 3)} = x (2x + 3) – 1. Lorna understood and started talking about Amy’s school as she removed the syringe from her purse. Carl rolled up his sleeve as he concentrated on the math. {x (2 x + 3)} = x (2x + 3) – 1. He could hear the voices grumbling and spoke to them, “Don’t worry, she’ll be gone in a few minutes.” D {x (2 x + 3)} = x (2x + 3) – 1.  D {x (2x + 3)} 3 = x (2x+3) – 1
          They happily replied, “Good boy Carl. We knew you’d take care of us, just like we’ve taken care of you… all these years.”
           {x (2 x + 3)} = x (2x + 3) – 1  D {x (2x + 3)} 3 = x (2x+3)
          Carl walked with Lorna to the car, getting in before the sedative took affect. Lorna tucked a blanket around his shoulders. The voices screamed in agony… but Carl could no longer hear them.


          The afternoon sun cast shadowed light across the small room. Lorna noticed how the stripes from the barred windows flickered on the bare floor then flashed across the pale green walls. She touched Carl’s newly shaved face with tenderness and whispered, “Don’t be afraid when you wake up. You’re safe.”
          Lorna walked to the window praying, “Please let it work this time. I’m afraid it’s his last chance…our last chance.” She heard a rustling and turned to find her husband sitting up in bed, his hands pressed against his ears. She went to him.
          “I think the voices are gone.” She looked into her husbands face as she held his hands. “Aren’t they? Or at least very quiet?  Don’t try and talk right now, give yourself a minute; I’ll tell you what’s happened.” She went to the table and poured two cups of coffee, offering one to Carl. He didn’t take his eyes off her face as the warmth soothed his throat.
          “You had a bad reaction to the medication, but the doctor made some changes and you’re doing better. Your throat is sore because a tube had to be inserted. You had some trouble breathing. We kept you asleep to give you time to adjust to the medication and to rest. You’ve been on the street a long time and we wanted you to regain some strength.” Lorna kissed his palm.
          Carl silently stared at his wife. How I love you. You’re trying. I know you’re trying. Carl sipped his coffee. Pssst…pssst…pssst
          Lorna’s soft voice soothed him, “The doctor said if you continue your medication---
          “Pssst pssst pssst.”
          “Carl? Look at me. Listen.”
          “They are quieter.” He whispered. “Do you think they’ll ever go away?”
          “The doctor said the medication will keep them at bay.”
          “What happens when I think I don’t need the medication any more? I start to feel well and do well, and then Pow. I’m on the street again with only the voices to hold. What do we do then?”
          Lorna kept her voice firm and replied, “There have been some improvements with the medication. You no longer have to take pills every day. Once a month you get a shot. That’s it. We just have to make sure you get your shot once a month.” She held his hand firmly. “And believe me Carl; you will be getting that monthly shot.”
          Carl saw the resolve in her face and felt hopeful for the first time in years. “You up for this? We haven’t lived together more than a few months since we’ve been married. I’m really hard to live with. Sane or insane. It won’t be a picnic for you, or Amy. Even without the voices I’m well… nuts. Sort of.”
          “We just need to keep your mind busy. Your sense of humor is already coming back. Those brains of yours are a blessing and a curse.”
          “Don’t I know it,” Carl mumbled.
          There was a gentle knock on the door. “There’s someone waiting to see you.”
          “Wait!” Carl moaned as he pulled her close. “Do you really think I can do it this time? I don’t want to put her through this if it isn’t possible.”      Lorna kissed his cheek. “It’s very possible… if you want it. Do you want it, Carl?” She looked into his sad face. “Do you want us?”
          “I do,” Carl replied.
          The door burst open. “Daddy.” Amy ran to her father. Carl wrapped his arms around both his girls, hugging them close… holding on as though his life depended on it. 
          “Pssst….pssst.” 




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