Philadelphia Pike Road
It had been a month since Eddie’s death, and now here they were in July—one of the hottest months of summer. Vic came home from work every evening feeling like he’d spent the entire day in a steamy sauna. Not that he was an expert on saunas. He’d only been inside one once, before he’d joined the church. He remembered that being in there had felt pretty good for the first several minutes, but the longer Vic and his buddies had stayed, the worse he’d felt. He couldn’t tolerate too much heat and had ended up getting out before the rest of them did.
In addition to being hot and sweaty right now, Vic still had no ambition and had to force himself to get his work done while on the job. By the time he got home, he had no energy for doing his chores and felt thankful that Eleanor had done most of them while he was gone during the day.
Today, like all the others since his brother’s death, Vic fought the urge to drown his sorrows. In fact, the feeling was so overwhelming, he broke the promise he’d made to himself and let Tom talk him into stopping for a few beers after work. Vic had convinced himself that a couple of drinks wouldn’t hurt. The cool liquid would taste good, and it might numb his increasing emotional pain. He’d thought about Eleanor, knowing she would be upset about his decision to drink, but Vic’s desperate need took over. All he wanted was that numbing feeling he’d experienced from the past. The relaxed state the alcohol had seemed to create made him feel good for a while, at least until it had worn off.
“It’s about time you took me up on my offer,” Tom said, pulling his truck into the parking lot of one the minimarts on their route home. “We can drive to my house to drink our beers, and that way you won’t have to worry about anyone seeing you with a drink in your hands.”
“What makes you think I’d be worried about that?” Vic pulled his sunglasses down and looked at Tom with raised brows.
“Well, for starters, you’re Amish, and you’ve always told me that you thought drinking was wrong.”
“I never said it in those exact words.”
“May as well have. You sure let it be known that you don’t drink.”
“I used to,” Vic admitted, “but it was before I joined the church.”
“What’s different now? Is it because you’re still fretting about the loss of your kid brother?”
Tom’s unexpected words hit Vic like a punch in the gut. “I’ve been feeling uptight lately and need something to help me relax.” He glanced toward the store. “Would you mind going in to buy a carton of beer? I’ll reimburse you for it.”
Tom flapped his hand like he was swatting at some pesky fly. “Don’t worry about it, Vic. These cans of beer will be my treat.” He gave Vic’s back a few solid pats. “Take my word for it, friend. By the time this evening’s over, you’ll be relaxed and won’t even be thinking about your problems.”
Paradise
“Have a seat and make yourself comfortable,” Tom said when they entered his sparsely furnished house. The living room had a fairly decent-looking recliner, but the only other place to sit was a well-worn leather couch. It was hot and stuffy in the room, until Tom clicked a button on the wall and the cool air from his air-conditioning unit came on.
“You want a glass or would you rather drink your beer from the can?” Tom asked after Vic had taken a seat on the couch.
“Don’t bother with a glass. A can is fine for me.” He glanced at the clock on the far wall. “I can’t stay long. I don’t want Eleanor to worry.”
“A little worry on the wife’s part might be good for your marriage. She’ll appreciate you more when you get home.” Tom opened the carton of beer he’d brought in and tossed one to Vic. “Here you go—enjoy!”
At that moment, with the can of beer in his hands, Vic realized that there was still an opportunity for him to change his mind. If he started drinking, could he control himself this time? His past had already been bumpy due to the last time he drank some alcohol, but Vic rationalized his doubts away. I’ve missed having a beer and the way its flavor hits my taste buds. He held the frigid-cold can and stared at its icy label. It shouldn’t be a problem for me this time. I’m older now, and I think I can drink responsibly.
Vic didn’t believe being late for supper would do anything good for his marriage, but right now all he could think about was downing the beer he held in his hands and hoping it would help soothe his jangled nerves. If Eleanor got upset because he was late getting home this evening, he’d think of something to calm her down.
Vic opened the beer and took his first drink. “Oh boy … that felt good going down, and I like the fruity, funky taste.”
“Not bad, huh?”
Vic bobbed his head. He’d barely finished with his beer when Tom tossed him another can.
“If the first one was good, then two will be better.” Tom chuckled and opened another one for himself.
“Okay, but after I finish this, I should get going.”
“What’s your hurry? You just got here, and I doubt you’ve had a chance to relax yet. Just kick back and enjoy the moment.” Tom lifted his can. “And the beer.”
Eleanor glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall. The chicken dish she’d made was in the oven, staying warm, and the tossed green salad in the refrigerator would go with it. She also planned to serve green beans, and some chow-chow, a condiment that Vic really liked. Today was their first anniversary, and she’d made his favorite pie for dessert. Eleanor had hoped Vic might give her a gift or even a card this morning, but he’d left the house without saying a word about their anniversary. She’d made a special card for Vic and had decided to wait until this evening to give it to him. She figured with the stress he’d been under, he must have forgotten the date of their anniversary. Would he be upset if she asked? Would Vic feel bad when she gave him the card if he had none for her?
She glanced at the clock again. I wish Vic would get here. I wonder what’s taking him so long. Could he be working longer hours than normal this evening?
Eleanor took a seat at the table and tried to relax. It was hard not to worry about her husband—especially since he wouldn’t communicate with her the way he used to before Eddie’s death. Vic also lacked ambition and didn’t eat or sleep as much as he should. He’d lost some weight, and the bags and dark circles under his eyes were clear evidence of his exhaustion.
Eleanor got up and went over to the desk where she kept notepaper as well as a file folder for keeping incoming bills and receipts separate from those that had been paid. It helped to stay organized, especially when it was time to pay bills and do tax preparation at the end of the year.
Eleanor figured that while she waited for Vic, she might as well write a few letters. She owed one to her mother and also Doretta. She’d received another letter from her friend a week ago and hadn’t responded to it yet. Doretta had said she would continue to pray for Vic and all of the Lapp family as they dealt with the loss of Eddie. She’d stated that she had been praying for Eleanor too, that she would be patient with Vic and know what to say or do to help with his emotions and healing process.
Eleanor picked up two sheets of paper and a pen and went back to the table. Writing letters was an easy way to get her thoughts down on paper, and it did help some to ease the stress and tension she often felt these days.
“Hey, buddy, you’d better ease up. I think you’ve had enough of those, and I’d better take you home,” Tom said when Vic reached for a fifth can of beer.
“Ah, come on … I’m feeling so relaxed, and one more will make me feel even better.” Vic’s tongue felt thick, and he couldn’t keep from slurring his words. He stood up, rocked back and forth, and stumbled across the room, where more beer cans sat by Tom’s chair.
Tom leaped to his feet and grabbed Vic’s arm. “I said no more! You can barely even stand on your own two feet.”
“I–I’m fine. Haven’t felt this good in a long while.” Vic looked at Tom and blinked multiple times. “That’s sure funny…. Think I’m seeing two of you. Have you got a twin brother?”
“No, pal—you’re drunk, and I’m taking you home right now.” Tom got a good grip on Vic and led him out the door.
Vic didn’t want to leave yet, but he was too unstable, and his head felt so fuzzy he couldn’t think straight. Well, at least he’d be going home in a jolly mood for a change. That ought to make Eleanor happy.
Eleanor had finished writing letters to her mother and Doretta and was about to turn the oven to its lowest setting when she heard a noisy vehicle pull into the yard. No doubt it was Tom’s truck bringing her tired husband home from a long workday.
Eleanor left the kitchen and hurried to open the front door. She was surprised to see that instead of dropping Vic off at the end of the driveway like he normally did, Tom had pulled his truck up close to the house. What surprised her even more was when Tom stepped down from his truck, went around to the passenger’s door, and helped Vic out.
Her throat constricted. “What’s wrong with my husband?” She rushed forward. “Is he sick, or did he get hurt on the job?”
Tom shook his head and walked Vic slowly up the porch steps. “He had a little too much to drink, and he’s feeling pretty tipsy right now.”
Eleanor’s fingers touched her parted lips. “Are … are you saying that he’s drunk?”
“Yep. I’ll help him inside, and then you can take over from there.”
Coldness hit Eleanor to the core of her being. How could this be? To her knowledge, Vic hadn’t partaken of any alcoholic beverages since he had joined the church. And even before then, she’d never seen him drunk and unable to walk on his own.
She ground her teeth together. So much for spending a nice anniversary together this evening. This day is now ruined.
Eleanor followed the men inside and closed the door. She had put Checkers in his dog run a few hours ago, so at least she didn’t have to deal with the dog carrying on when he saw his owner. She did, however, need to figure out how to deal with Vic. No one in her family drank alcohol, other than the little bit of wine they partook of during church communion, so she’d never had to deal with a situation like this before.
After Tom helped Vic onto the couch, he turned to Eleanor and said, “You can try to sober your hubby up now or just let him sleep it off, which would be my suggestion. He’ll probably be sick as a dog, but sober, by morning.” He started for the door, then turned back to face her. “Sorry about this. When we stopped by my house and I offered Vic a few beers, I thought he’d stop at two, but he drank two more and then wanted a fifth before I insisted on taking him home.”
Eleanor followed Tom out the door. “What I don’t understand is why you offered my husband any beer at all.”
“He’s been stressed out since his brother drowned. I thought it might help Vic to relax and unwind for a bit, so I invited him to my house for a few beers.” He reached out his hand and touched her arm. “Don’t look so serious. I’m sure he’ll be fine when the buzz wears off.”
Before Eleanor could offer a retort, Tom got into his truck and drove away.
Eleanor’s heartbeat raced as she closed the front door. It shook her to the core to see her husband like this. Although she knew Vic had been dealing with depression due to his brother’s death, she’d never imagined that he would start drinking. She hoped it was only a one-time event, and that when Vic sobered up, he would have learned his lesson and never touch another alcoholic beverage.
Groaning and shielding his eyes against the light permeating the room, Vic rolled onto his side and nearly fell off the couch. “What time is it, and what am I doing in here?” he mumbled as a sharp pain shot through his head. His lips felt dry as sandpaper, and the bad taste in his mouth reminded him that he’d obviously not brushed his teeth last night. He tried to sort out what had happened from the time he’d finished his last beer at Tom’s place yesterday until now.
“You’d better change your clothes and wash up or you’ll be late for work,” Eleanor announced when she entered the room a few seconds later.
Vic pulled himself to a sitting position and rubbed his forehead.
“It’s morning?”
“Jah.”
“And I slept here on the couch all night?”
She gave a brief nod. “You fell asleep there after Tom brought you home, and you were too drunk for me to put you to bed.”
Before Vic could respond, Checkers darted into the room, jumped into his lap, and began licking his face. Vic pushed the dog away and looked at Eleanor again. “Would you put him outside? I can’t deal with this right now. Fact is, I’m not sure I can go to work today at all. My head’s pounding so hard I can barely think straight.”
“I don’t think you should go to work either.” Eleanor moved toward the front door. “I’ll let the dog out and then go to the phone shed and call your boss.”
“Don’t tell Ned I’m suffering from a hangover.” He spoke with an urgent tone.
Eleanor looked straight at him. “So you want me to lie to him?”
“No. Just say I–I’m not feeling well today, ’cause that’s the truth—I feel terrible.”
“And who’s to blame for that?” Her lips flattened as she crossed her arms.
“Only me. I’m the one who messed up, and I am truly sorry, Eleanor. I should not have put you through that.”
“What about yourself? Did getting drunk do anything good for you, Vic?”
“Last night it did, because after drinking a couple of beers I felt relaxed, and then I had a couple more and the painful grief I’ve been carrying for the last month was gone.”
“How about now? Is it still gone?”
He shook his head. “It’s back, and now there’s the additional shame I feel for being so stupid and getting drunk. Will you forgive me, Eleanor? I promise it will never happen again.”
“Jah, Vic, I forgive you, but more importantly, you need to forgive yourself—not just for getting drunk, but for not teaching your brother how to swim and believing that you are to blame for his death. You need to allow God to help you work past that and not turn to alcohol as a crutch.” She spoke in a soothing tone but with obvious conviction.
Vic nodded very carefully while continuing to rub his throbbing head. “You’re right, and from this moment on, I will do my best.”
She reached for a card that had been lying on the coffee table and handed it to him. “Here. Happy belated anniversary.”
His eyes widened. “Oh boy! I really blew it. Our first anniversary was yesterday, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m really sorry, Eleanor. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”