The Overcoat

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      Jerry Bleeker coughed and scratched his week-old black beard as he stepped onto the front porch of the run-down green and white victorian he called home.  He tossed a butt onto the cracked sidewalk, lit another, and looked out over the public square. The mid-morning sun was partially hidden by dark gray clouds that were rolling in from out over the lake. Sidewalks and ancient maples crisscrossed the city block-sized lawn that made up Jones Park.  The once-proud square was surrounded by large old city houses; a testament to the affluence that the west Rochester neighborhood once enjoyed. The houses had long since been cut up into low-rent apartments and the park was littered with old newspapers and empty green pint bottles in tightly wrapped brown paper bags.  

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     Jerry watched as a gust kicked up and a Wal-Mart bag tumbled over the sidewalk and fastened itself to the leg of a park bench.  At the far end of the park, two hookers talked as they waited for the early morning trade.  Jerry thought he recognized the older one from the night before.  He had gotten pretty drunk, and she was there… available… cheap. That was how he spent his last twenty dollars. A drop of water fell from the rain gutter over Jerry’s head and landed on his nose.

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      This is a bunch of shit, he thought, as he started coughing again.  He spit onto the dark green wooden steps, reached into the pocket of his overcoat, and pulled out a flask.  The cheap gin burned his throat.  He shoved the flask back into his pocket, tossed the cigarette butt towards the park, and started down the steps towards the street.   He lit another cigarette, pulled the black knit cap down over his ears, and without looking back, left.  He walked down Plymouth Avenue, past the milk processing plant, and headed towards Lake Avenue.

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***

 

     Sofie Blane walked into the kitchen of her two-story colonial in the tiny new development just off Ridge Road in Webster. She opened the cupboard, pulled out a Phaltzgraff cup, and poured herself a cup of coffee.  She had married Donald Blane about three years ago, and they immediately moved into the large gray house.  Everything in her life seemed to get better since her divorce from Jerry.  It’s not that she didn’t love him, but the drinking just kept getting worse and worse.  Sally and Mark were better off, although they never stopped defending him.  Sofie wondered if he even knew how much they missed him.  The kids were in a good school now and doing well, and Don was vice president of the second-largest construction company in the city.  Sofie worked part-time at the Webster Presbyterian church.  Today, she had taken the day off to have her little red Chevy repaired.   Her father and older brother had come last night to take it to their shop on Lyell Avenue, and after several semi-humorous comments about being in the ‘rich bitch’ part of town, had left her without a car for the morning. And stuck at home. Her father told her to call about noon to see if it was ready.  She was seated at the light oak kitchen table, looking out at the backyard when she heard the soft flop that told her that the mail had arrived.  She went to pick it up.

 

***

 

     Jerry flipped his cigarette out into Lake Avenue as he waited for the light to change. There was really only one person that he wanted to talk to before he left.  Roxy was the bartender over at Rico’s Panama Place Bar and Grill. She was the one that sat, day after day, and listened to his hard-luck story, and at least pretended to care.  She was the only one. He crossed Lake Avenue and headed north, three blocks down the street, to the Panama’s front door.  Hesitating only for a moment, he entered. Day turned to night as the door closed and the pungent mixture of sweat, old urine, and stale beer enveloped him.  He felt at home. 

     “Hey Roxy,” he said.  He settled into the red vinyl bar stool at the end of the bar. Roxy filled a water glass with gin, and a couple of cubes of ice, and set it in front of him.

     “A bit early today aren’t we?” She looked him in the eye. Roxy was the only one who ever looked him in the eye anymore.  He took a small sip.

      “It’s a big day,” he spoke quietly; “I am celebrating.”  Roxy looked at him expectantly.  “I’m leavin’ town.” Another sip. “For good.”

     “Fer real?”

     “Yep.  You won’t have ol’ Jerry to kick around anymore.” He shook the ice in the glass as he emptied it.  Roxy filled it again.

     “Where ya headed?”  She smiled as she wiped off the bar.  They were the only two in the place, but Jerry looked around before he spoke again. “Down the river… out into the lake… and off to Ca-Nee-Da,” he said.  His smile faded as the words drew his stare into the bottom of his glass.

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***

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      Sofie sat at her kitchen table and sorted out the mail. Bill, bill, bill, letter. She looked at the letter. The envelope was stained, and the return address had been smeared.   The letter was addressed to Sofie Bleeker. It had been a long time since she had heard that name.   The address was hand-printed; in block letters.  She did not recognize the handwriting.  Sofie opened the envelope. Whatever had stained the outside had soaked into the letter and turned one edge of the yellow legal pad paper a light green. She pulled the letter out and began to read.  She recognized Jerry’s ragged scrawl.

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My Dear Sofie,

            Do you remember when we were young and filled with dreams?  We were going to take on the world you and I. Together.  We were so much in love. Remember? Do you remember?  Boy, we had the world by the ass those days, didn’t we? What went wrong? I don’t know. I still remember that day we took the kids to Sea Breeze.  We sure did have fun that day, didn’t we? Ah, hell, who am I trying to kid? One last letter and I still can’t be honest with myself. What went wrong? We both know the answer to that. You left me. You tore my heart out.

     I don’t blame you though. Shit, you could never do no wrong.  And me. I could never do no right.  That’s the way it was, wasn’t it? It was me that lost that job. That silly-ass Carson deserved it. He was in my shit for months. It was me that wrecked the car, it was me that couldn’t keep the house. All me right? You had nothing to do with it right!! Yeah, that’s the way you saw it. I guess that’s the way I saw it too. The world turned out to be a lot harder place than I thought.  It was the world that had us by the ass. Well, me anyway.  I took a shot at the big dream and I got my ass kicked.  Well, I gotta go now, they turned out the power today and it's getting dark. Tomorrow the sheriff is coming to throw me out. But I got a lot more to say.  I promise that I will finish this before I go. 

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     There was a large J scrawled on the bottom third of the page and nothing else.  Sofie remembered that day at Sea Breeze, she had to drive home because Jerry was too drunk. The kids had to help her put him to bed.   She didn’t remember anything about a wrecked car. He must be drinking again, she thought, I better stop and see how he’s doing. Maybe after I get my car. She hesitated.  Maybe I could just call.  

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     Sofie thought back to the day she left. She was getting the kids ready when Mr. Carson called.  He was looking for Jerry; he hadn’t been to work in a week. Jerry had been leaving the house every day at the right time but was going to the bar instead of work. When he finally did talk to Mr. Carson, he ended up punching him in the face. He immediately got fired and went back to the bar.  When her father and brother caught up with him he was drunk.  They dragged him home. He was passed out on the floor of the upstairs bedroom when she and the kids packed everything and left for her father’s house in Gates. Her father had promised to ‘run his drunk ass over’ if he ever saw him again.  In the three years that had passed since that day, she had married Donald and moved to Webster, and Jerry had been in and out of rehab. As she looked around the trappings of her new life she couldn’t help wishing that Jerry could beat whatever demons he was fighting and get his life back.  She called her dad, the car was ready and if she could get there in half an hour, he was buying lunch. She called the cab company, poured the cold coffee down the sink, and went to get ready to leave. 

 

***

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     Jerry crunched the last ice cube of his third drink. He stood and stretched as he waited for Roxy to come back from the kitchen.  He looked at his watch, shrugged, and sat back down.  “Not yet,” he said to the stale empty room.  He reached behind the bar and grabbed the bottle of gin.  He looked towards the kitchen as he poured himself a full glass; he took a huge gulp and put the bottle back. Just like water; just like drops of water.  He reached into the pocket of the overcoat and pulled out a stained sheet of yellow paper and an old broken pencil. “Travel the world,” He said out loud.

     “So what’s in Canada?” Roxy returned from the kitchen with a case of Bud.  Larry looked up from the paper.

     “It’s not here,” Jerry lit a cigarette.  “I gotta get out of this town.” She watched as Jerry scrawled a huge ‘J’ on the paper, then carefully folded the wrinkled sheet and returned it to the overcoat pocket.

     “Yeah.  I wish I could do something different. When you leavin’?”

     “Today.   I’m meetin’ up with a guy… he’s got a job lined up in Toronto… all I gotta do is get there.  I’m waiting for my ride now.”  He finished the stolen drink.  Roxy made him another.  He looked at his watch. “Any minute now.”  

      “Any more of those, and you won’t be goin’ nowhere.”

      “Don’ worry about me.  I’m celebratin’, remember?” 

 

***

 

     Sofie grabbed her cell phone as she ran out the door. The cab was sitting in the driveway.  “Johnny’s Auto over on Lyell, please.”  She closed the door and the bright yellow Ford backed into the cul-de-sac.  She pulled the phone out of her purse and punched up Jerry’s number. She closed the phone as she remembered that it had been shut off last week. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.  Next week, she thought, I’ll catch up with him next week. He’s always doin’ this shit. Time and time again, he promised that he would quit for the kids.  I can’t keep bailing him out.  Sofie looked out the window as the car pulled onto the expressway.

 

***

 

     Jerry walked up Lake Avenue.  He was completely focused on the bottle in his hand.   He took it when Roxy was in the kitchen and ran off without paying.   He didn’t know why he had taken it.  For a minute he felt bad. Hell with it, I’m never comin’ back.  He tried to take a sip while he staggered down the street. Gin dribbled out as he stumbled down the sidewalk running off his stubbled chin onto the greasy old overcoat. He stopped and wiped the wet spot that the gin had made just above the third button.  He sat down and tried to pour the remaining gin into the flask.  He frowned as most of it ran into a crack in the sidewalk. He frowned, it looked like drops of water falling off the curb and into the busy city street. He looked up, and across the street stood the old hooker that was in the square earlier. He was right. It was the one he was with the other night. Their eyes met. He smiled.  Disgust? Was that disgust? He lowered his eyes.  He shuddered at what he must look like; Dirty old drunk on the street with his bottle.  He looked up again; she was gone.  He took a sip from the flask.  It’s time.

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     Jerry stood up and started walking.  He turned onto Driving Park Avenue and stared out over the bridge. Jerry ignored the traffic as he walked to the middle of the flat concrete bridge. Facing north, he looked down the Genesee River.  He could not see where it went but he could imagine it, the water flowing.  He closed his eyes; he was a drop of water. Down past the new bridge, past the Yacht Club, and the terminal where the Fast Ferry once rested. Out past the Anchor Bar, and Charlotte Beach, where he and Sofie, holding hands, had mingled with paint sprayed obnoxiously on the rocks.  Out past the piers and into the white-capped chop of the lake and freedom.

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     Jerry opened the overcoat and pulled a yellow sheet of paper from the inner pocket.  He slowly opened it.

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Sofie,

     I told you I would finish this later.  I wrote the rest this morning.  I woke up thinking about that time we went down to Charlotte.  Remember the water? Out past the piers, out into the lake, next stop Toronto.  Remember? How did that young couple get from making love in the restroom by the carousel, to here?  Me; it was the gin.  It is the gin.  For the first time in my life, I admit that.  My job, my marriage, everything, gone. That’s funny. A first, on my last day.  I am sorry my dear Sofie. I am sorry for all of it. Every bit. Except for Sally and Mark.  But they will be better off. Do you still have those policies that we bought when they were born? Of course, you do…

     Do you remember on that pier when we talked about how easy it would be to travel the world if we were drops of water? We could go anywhere we wanted celebrating with all of those other drops of water. Remember? Nah, you probably don’t. Anyway, I am going to finally do something good for you guys.  I am going to travel the world. I am going to be a drop of water.  For you, and Sally and Marky. You will all be better off.

Love forever.

Another scrawled J. 

 

      Jerry carefully folded the wrinkled paper and dropped it onto the sidewalk.  He looked out over the river.  “Drop of water,” he said out loud.  He turned and saw the police cruiser slowing as it approached the bridge.  He pulled the flask out.  He drained it, and threw it in the river.  The police car stopped.  Jerry nodded and jumped over the railing. The yellow sheet sticking to his shoe.

 

***

 

     Sofie sat in the back of the cab.  The car was stopped; sitting on the O’Rourke Bridge. She looked past the driver; traffic was backed up to Lake Avenue. “Why the hell did we come this way?” She asked the driver.  “It would have been faster the other way.”

     “We had to go this way. The Driving Park Bridge is closed for some reason.”

      “Damn,” Sofie reached for her phone to call her father. She looked out the window towards the lake. Something was floating down the river.  She strained to better see the dark object.  It looked like an overcoat.