DIED 2010
IT STARTS WITH GIN and Wink in Tupperware tumblers on the dock of Lake Wallenpaupack in the Poconos, where I had come with The Skater to meet his family. His younger brother was carrying the drinks from the house on a tray. A more compact, sturdy version of my willowy beau, he was by far the most hospitable person in the family. A wide smile on his face, goofy jokes, considerate ways. A Metallica T-shirt. A joint in his pocket for later. Hair thinning a little already, at twenty-four. I felt like I could have gone to high school with him; gotten high together during study hall. Fun-loving, super-bad white kids from the seventies, that’s what we were.
Not long after we got married, my new brother-in-law got married too—a hardworking, blue-eyed local girl with three young sons, close together in age, whom I always thought of as Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Helping her raise those boys was the best thing he ever did. Never missed a ball game, a road trip to the beach, a night of fireworks on the lake. Having grown up himself with a nasty, violent dad and a gentle stepfather, he was nothing but kind to those boys, knew enough to leave the discipline to their mom.
Huey, Dewey, and Louie were just about grown when she stopped drinking for good; he never did. It didn’t help that his lifelong profession was managing Pennsylvania State liquor stores. But the baseball cards, the gambling, the women, all the ways of spending money he didn’t have: it’s as if he was two different people. That shadow self, the one who lied and stole and sneaked around, just wouldn’t let go. A few months sober here and there; never enough to give his liver a chance, not with hepatitis C.
Two weeks before he turned fifty, he fell down the stairs. It could have been a trip to the emergency room, a cast, something to tease him about at a family dinner. Instead, it was a chance to give up. The two different people that he was agreeing at last. Fuck this. We’re out.