Bill K. stood behind the rear screened door and called to Mother, "Ma'am, can we talk for a moment?"
Mother approached the door. She and Bill K. whispered before Mother turned to face Crazy Annie, Little Pete, and me. "Kids, you can go inside now. Bill K. and Dick B. are going to stay here to help your father."
Next thing you know, Mother eyeballed me, her eyebrows inverted capital V's. (Thank you, Readers Digest Word Power page). "Gordon, you can't be noisy. If you want to play, go outside. Is that perfectly understood?"
"Yes, but why are you saying that only to me? Annie and Little Pete make noise, too."
"Because I'm your mother, and I know how you act."
After we made our way to the kitchen, Annie asked Mother, "How are those men going to help Father?"
"I don't know, but they can help him," explained Mother, "according to an article in an old Saturday Evening Post."
"But why is everything so secret?" whined my crazy sister.
"I agree," I said, not believing that I said it.
"You would," said Mother.
A moment later, we heard Dad call out, "Bill."
"Be right there, Jim," said the big man with salt and pepper hair, rising from Dad's parlor chair. He had only sat there for a moment. Bill and Dad talked, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Bill poked his head out the bedroom door. "Ma'am," he told Mother, "could you bring me that bottle of Old Overholt stored under the kitchen sink?"
I figured Dad must've told him about the whiskey being there.
Mother headed toward the kitchen but stopped. She slowly turned and looked straight at Bill. "I thought you were going to—" Her lips quivered. She didn't say another word. Nobody else did, either.
Finally, Bill spoke. "We must give it to him."
It took Mother at least one very long minute to finally say, "Did you say Old Overholt?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
Mother was already on her way to the kitchen. "And a glass," added Bill K.
"A shot glass?" inquired Mother.
"No, better make it larger."
When Mother handed Bill the liquor bottle and a water glass, Crazy Annie and I stared at each other and shrugged. Annie started whispering but ended up shouting. "I thought they were going to help Father. They're going to let him get drunk, anyway."
"Maybe, the whiskey's for Bill," I said.
Bill K. exited the bedroom with bottle and glass. "Mrs. Hoffman?"
"Yes?"
"We usually don't have a bunch of kids around. So, I'm thinking it's best yours be told what we're doing, that is, if it's all right with you."
Mother shrugged. "You're the experts," she said.
"Ma'am, the only thing I'm expert at is running a lumber company, and sometimes I question my ability in doing that. Thing is, Dick and me (He should've said I, but I didn't correct him) are no experts, but we understand what Jim's going through because we, ourselves, went through the same thing."
"Yes," added Dick B. "Bill, who's now my sponsor, and Mike S. discussed with me my drinking problem a half year ago. I decided to join them. I haven't had a drink since."
"Yup, Dick and me (there we go, again) were big boozers at one time," said Bill K. "Now, we're ex-drinkers—with God's help."
"May I?" Dick asked Bill.
"Go right ahead, Bill. Sorry for interrupting you."
"Your husband," Dick B said to Mother, "told us he wants to join us, but he must be weaned as we were. He can't go cold turkey, or else he could have some real physical problems, possibly even die. That's why somebody will be here, day and night, until your Jim is safely sober."
"Now, listen up, you kids," announced Bill with a roar. Even Little Pete paid attention this time. "It might not be a good idea to tell your friends about what's happening here. We'll keep this a secret, okay?"
"Okay," Crazy Annie said. I nodded. Little Pete wasn't paying heed any longer. I guess he's too young to understand. When Doc III and William returned later that day, they didn't say a word after Mother told them what the strangers in our house were doing. Mother slept with Annie on Annie's bed while a stranger remained in our parlor, day and night, occasionally giving Dad some whiskey while Dad remained in his and Mother's bedroom. On Monday, Dad wasn't moaning and groaning so much anymore, but he didn't go to the office, either.
If we answered the telephone when a patient asked to speak "to the doctor," Mother ordered us kids, "Tell them the doctor is very ill and in bed. If it's an emergency, please call Doctor Barnett's office."
Mother had told Doctor Barnett the truth. He came over to visit Dad. Only for a short while. He's Dad's very good friend.
After four long days and nights, the strangers no longer inhabited (Thank you Readers Digest Word Power page) our house twenty-four hours each day. They did visit Dad during daylight hours, however. On Thursday, according to Mother, Bill K. told her, "The crisis is past."
Dad remained in bed. We didn't dare bother him. Adults are so difficult to understand.
Mother approached the door. She and Bill K. whispered before Mother turned to face Crazy Annie, Little Pete, and me. "Kids, you can go inside now. Bill K. and Dick B. are going to stay here to help your father."
Next thing you know, Mother eyeballed me, her eyebrows inverted capital V's. (Thank you, Readers Digest Word Power page). "Gordon, you can't be noisy. If you want to play, go outside. Is that perfectly understood?"
"Yes, but why are you saying that only to me? Annie and Little Pete make noise, too."
"Because I'm your mother, and I know how you act."
After we made our way to the kitchen, Annie asked Mother, "How are those men going to help Father?"
"I don't know, but they can help him," explained Mother, "according to an article in an old Saturday Evening Post."
"But why is everything so secret?" whined my crazy sister.
"I agree," I said, not believing that I said it.
"You would," said Mother.
A moment later, we heard Dad call out, "Bill."
"Be right there, Jim," said the big man with salt and pepper hair, rising from Dad's parlor chair. He had only sat there for a moment. Bill and Dad talked, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. Bill poked his head out the bedroom door. "Ma'am," he told Mother, "could you bring me that bottle of Old Overholt stored under the kitchen sink?"
I figured Dad must've told him about the whiskey being there.
Mother headed toward the kitchen but stopped. She slowly turned and looked straight at Bill. "I thought you were going to—" Her lips quivered. She didn't say another word. Nobody else did, either.
Finally, Bill spoke. "We must give it to him."
It took Mother at least one very long minute to finally say, "Did you say Old Overholt?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
Mother was already on her way to the kitchen. "And a glass," added Bill K.
"A shot glass?" inquired Mother.
"No, better make it larger."
When Mother handed Bill the liquor bottle and a water glass, Crazy Annie and I stared at each other and shrugged. Annie started whispering but ended up shouting. "I thought they were going to help Father. They're going to let him get drunk, anyway."
"Maybe, the whiskey's for Bill," I said.
Bill K. exited the bedroom with bottle and glass. "Mrs. Hoffman?"
"Yes?"
"We usually don't have a bunch of kids around. So, I'm thinking it's best yours be told what we're doing, that is, if it's all right with you."
Mother shrugged. "You're the experts," she said.
"Ma'am, the only thing I'm expert at is running a lumber company, and sometimes I question my ability in doing that. Thing is, Dick and me (He should've said I, but I didn't correct him) are no experts, but we understand what Jim's going through because we, ourselves, went through the same thing."
"Yes," added Dick B. "Bill, who's now my sponsor, and Mike S. discussed with me my drinking problem a half year ago. I decided to join them. I haven't had a drink since."
"Yup, Dick and me (there we go, again) were big boozers at one time," said Bill K. "Now, we're ex-drinkers—with God's help."
"May I?" Dick asked Bill.
"Go right ahead, Bill. Sorry for interrupting you."
"Your husband," Dick B said to Mother, "told us he wants to join us, but he must be weaned as we were. He can't go cold turkey, or else he could have some real physical problems, possibly even die. That's why somebody will be here, day and night, until your Jim is safely sober."
"Now, listen up, you kids," announced Bill with a roar. Even Little Pete paid attention this time. "It might not be a good idea to tell your friends about what's happening here. We'll keep this a secret, okay?"
"Okay," Crazy Annie said. I nodded. Little Pete wasn't paying heed any longer. I guess he's too young to understand. When Doc III and William returned later that day, they didn't say a word after Mother told them what the strangers in our house were doing. Mother slept with Annie on Annie's bed while a stranger remained in our parlor, day and night, occasionally giving Dad some whiskey while Dad remained in his and Mother's bedroom. On Monday, Dad wasn't moaning and groaning so much anymore, but he didn't go to the office, either.
If we answered the telephone when a patient asked to speak "to the doctor," Mother ordered us kids, "Tell them the doctor is very ill and in bed. If it's an emergency, please call Doctor Barnett's office."
Mother had told Doctor Barnett the truth. He came over to visit Dad. Only for a short while. He's Dad's very good friend.
After four long days and nights, the strangers no longer inhabited (Thank you Readers Digest Word Power page) our house twenty-four hours each day. They did visit Dad during daylight hours, however. On Thursday, according to Mother, Bill K. told her, "The crisis is past."
Dad remained in bed. We didn't dare bother him. Adults are so difficult to understand.
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