NINETY-SEVEN
January 1979
December and Christmas of 1978 had been a particularly difficult time for Julia and her children. And then, on December 28, Julia turned twenty-nine, with hardly anyone even noticing.
Angel was ten years old, Eddy was
nine, and Amanda was six.
For the first time in several years,
they had failed to attend Christmas Mass at Trinity, had not joined the
Thompsons for Christmas dinner, and had experienced no real or meaningful
celebration of the holiday.
Although Julia continued to receive
public assistance and had become a regular customer at several neighborhood
charitable food pantries, there had been no Christmas gifts that year.
Julia had phoned Drina on Christmas
Eve to explain that she and all three children had come down with terrible
colds, accompanied by fevers and diarrhea. She told her they would be staying
home for Christmas and probably for several more days while they recovered. She
hoped, she said, that they might be feeling well enough to stop by and visit
her and Pop sometime before New Year's Eve.
Angel, in the fifth grade, and Eddy,
in the fourth, had not missed a single day of school at P.S. 147 since the
academic year began the previous September. Amanda had also faithfully
continued to attend her special education program every weekday.
Throughout most of December, while the children were at
school, Julia had spent her days drinking heavily. By the time they returned
home each afternoon, she was typically passed out in her usual place on the
living room couch.
On New Year's Day, Drina came knocking at the Moore
Street apartment door. It was noon.
Eddy opened the door, and when he saw Drina, he hugged
her tightly, holding on for a long time, seemingly unwilling to let go. Without
saying a word, they stood together in the doorway for more than a minute as
Drina wrapped her arms around him and gently caressed his shoulder.
“Where's Mommy?” Drina finally asked as Eddy loosened
his grip around her waist.
“Mommy's not feeling well again,” he
told her as she stepped through the doorway and into the kitchen.
Drina noticed how clean and orderly
everything seemed. Amanda was sitting in a small chair in the kitchen, her eyes
closed, holding a large rag doll in her arms as she quietly rocked back and
forth.
Drina then made her way into the
living room, where Julia was sound asleep on the couch.
An empty fifth of whiskey sat on the
table beside the couch. Its label read “Imperial.” Another empty bottle lay on
its side on the floor, almost hidden beneath the same table.
Drina stood beside the couch, gently shaking her head
from side to side, seemingly unsure of what to do next.
“Angel is sitting in the window in
the front room, Drina,” Eddy told her.
She made her way into the front
bedroom, where she found Angel sitting very still and quietly on the
windowsill, his face nearly pressed against the glass as he gazed outside,
seemingly lost in another world.
Approaching him, she asked in a
soft, affectionate voice, “How's my boy doing?”
Without moving from his place at the
window, Angel turned to look at her and answered, “Could be better, Drina.”
She stood nearby, not wanting to
invade his space at the window, and quietly waited to see if he would say more.
Angel began to speak, almost
whispering. His voice was sad, and he spoke slowly, drawing out his words.
“Mommy's sick again, but everything
else is okay, I guess. Me and Eddy have been taking care of Amanda, making sure
she eats and takes a bath every day. And we've been heating up some food on the
stove every day this week, making sure the dishes are washed and the trash gets
taken outside.
“Mommy got a big box of canned goods
from the church food pantry last week, so we've had enough to eat for now, but
it might run out before she goes again for more.
“Santa Claus didn't come to our
house this year. I guess it's because Mommy's been so sick, but it still makes
me a little sad, 'cause it was the first time ever he didn't come to our house
for Christmas. And we didn't even go to church this time.
“But I think everything's gonna be okay, Drina. We just gotta wait until
Mommy gets better again.”
“Angel, I'm gonna call Uncle Ty right now and ask if he and Monica can come
over and take you kids out for a hamburger or something to eat. I think you all
need something a little better for lunch than baked beans heated up from a can.
Then maybe they can take you over to my house to watch a movie on TV. Is that
okay?”
“Okay, Drina. That sounds like a nice idea.”
Drina returned to the living room couch and knelt on the floor beside Julia.
Gently nudging her shoulder, she encouraged her to wake up.
“Oh, hi, Drina. How are you?” Julia asked as she slowly opened her eyes and
looked up at her. “I'm not feeling that well today, Mrs. Thompson, and all I
want to do is sleep.”
“Julia, sweetheart, I want to send the kids out with
Tyrone for something to eat, and I'd like to spend some time with you to talk
about a few things. Is that okay?”
“Okay, Drina. That sounds like a good idea to me. Are
the kids okay?”
Half an hour later, Tyrone and Monica arrived at the
apartment door. The children were bundled up and ready to go, Julia was sitting
upright on the couch, and Drina was brewing a pot of coffee for her on the
stove.
While Julia remained seated, Angel and Eddy kissed and
hugged her goodbye. Then, when Monica led Amanda by the hand to the couch,
Julia briefly rose to give her daughter a kiss.
“Be good, mis hijos,” she said as they turned to leave.
A few moments later, Drina handed Julia a cup of
steaming hot black coffee. She had poured a cup for herself as well.
Then, sitting beside Julia on the couch, she said,
“Julia, dear, I want us to have an honest, heart-to-heart conversation. Okay?”
