FINDING FRED

Fred looked glum. His eyes drooped, watered. I could feel the tenseness in his jaw. It made me grit my own teeth. His open hand slowly knotted into a fist. Still sitting on his favorite backless bar stool, he reached for the plastic bowl of peanuts, ate a few and threw the rest directly at the mirror behind the bar. A giant crack ziggzagged from the bottom to the very top. The other drunks at the bar didn’t notice, didn’t care about the mirror or Fred. They went on sipping, nipping as if their ears were stuffed with chewing gum.

One of the frequent customers yelled out, ‘Hey, Nat. Didn’t you notice Blotto just broke the big mirror?’ Nat threw his arms up in exasperation, took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘Don’t anybody worry.The glass won’t break. It’s glued to the backboard. Baker’s good for it. Next drink is on the house!’ The sitters and the standers applauded.

Fred, the creator of the pandemonium, got up, took his Visa card from his wallet and handed it to Nat. The curious twisted and stood tip-toed trying to see the charge slip, but Fred signed it fast and it went into the cash register like a rattler that has already made up its mind to strike. Fred gave a mischievous smile to all, bowed, threw a kiss and with a final, ‘Good nite, Jerks,’ walked out on fairly steady feet.

He only had a short distance home and made it even shorter by going through a back alley. Dogs barked. A few residents turned on their rear outside lights, saw nothing unusual and in a few minutes, it was dark again.

Fred, surprising himself, didn’t stumble, didn’t bump into any garbage cans loaded for Tuesday’s pick-up, didn’t step in any brackish stagnant water. The brisk night air almost cleared his head. After the last house in the alley that still had a picket fence, Fred turned right and was on his own street. His new white Mazda was in front of his house, wasn’t stolen yet.

‘Wha–‘, was all he could say. That was when the lights went out, Fred’slights. Nothing else happened until Fred opened his eyes in what smelled like, and looked like, a hospital. A total void filled his mushy mind. The emptiness of time, the lack of blackness scared the bejesus out of him. He tried to sit up, figure out where he was and why. Gently two large white hands, topped by a resonant black voice, pushed him down on whatever the lumpy thing was that was under him. Beep, beeps echoed from one ear to the other. There was an old fashioned blood pressure cuff wrapped around his arm. The voice told him to lie down, keep still.

‘Mr. Foreman, do you know what happened to you? You were found unconscious on your own pavement, by Officer O’Halley. He walks the beat in your area every night. He had no idea how long you had been laying there and called for assistance.’ Fred’s brow knitted tightly. His eyes squinted as he tried to focus on the voice, the place. ‘ I think maybe my wife’s boyfriend cuckolded me when I got home earlier than they expected. You go out and tell Maggie she can sit in the hall forever or until one of us dies.’ ‘The lady outside said her name is Hilda. Do you know her?’ Barely able to answer, Fred told the voice that he knew a Hilda in high school but never got in her pants.

‘Stay quiet. You are going downstairs for a cat scan. So far you aren’t all the way back with us. Dr. Merson will talk to you when you return. Close your eyes.’ Fred follows orders and goes back into the void he didn’t understand the first time. Loud beeps, green, blue, white gowned people push him, prod him. He feels nothing. His eyes are closed but he sees clearly thru the lids. There is a tunnel, a brightly lit tunnel, and he walks towards it. Something smells good. He opens his eyes all the way and almost leaps out of bed.‘Hilly, Hilly, Sweetheart. Where have you been? Oh god you smell so good, like melting chocolate pouring over vanilla ice cream. I’ve been away, don’t know where I was, but do now.

Sit down close to my bed. Hold my hand and tell me that you love me.’

‘That’s easy, Fred, I love you.’