The Hollow Men - Episode 33
Drew gets a phone call from west Texas that changes his world. Sam's smile manages to break a somber, sad mood.
Last week in episode 32 of The Hollow Men Drew and Sam spend a few days with Robert and Barry in Corpus Christi and return home to Austin.
The Hollow Men is the second collection of not quite true tales of Texas. If you have recently subscribed and like to read things from the very beginning feel free to start with The Cold Days of Summer, the first collection of not quite true tales of Texas. Each episode of The Cold Days of Summer and The Hollow Men contains a link to the previous and next episode so you can easily move through the story line.
Everything changes in a minute
In late August of 1985 I started my final semester of graduate school. I had nine graduate hours for the semester, six of that would be my thesis. I also signed up for an overview of computer languages, a survey course that would look at several different languages, including Modula-2, Lisp, APL, Algol and Icon. I enjoyed the graduate work, the research and the give and take with my professors on my ideas and direction. I also enjoyed the survey course, it was interesting to see how different languages had come into being, some to solve specific problems, others because they represented a certain view of the computer science world. I stayed busy.
The habit of getting up early was ingrained in me. While I no longer had to be anywhere at 7:00 am, I was used to waking up before that, so on most mornings I woke before my alarm went off at 6:25. A little bit of stretching and washing the sleep from my eyes and I was out the door with Sam by 6:45 for an early morning jog.
After my jog with Sam I would come in and cool off and plan out the day. I usually spent the morning in the library either gathering data or writing. Then in the afternoon I would meet with one or more of my professors and defend what I was doing. Sometimes it was frustrating, but I was making progress. Monday and Wednesday afternoons I went to the campus for my survey of programming languages course.
The morning of Wednesday, October 9, 1985 was no different. Sam and I hit the road at 6:45 and we were back in the house by 7:30. I usually didn't go to the library until 9:00 or 10:00 so I had all the time in the world before I had to go anywhere. I sat at my kitchen table, drinking lots of water and skimming through the newspaper, spending most of my time on the comics. Sam had drank her fill and was lying quietly on the kitchen floor, near my feet, drifting off to sleep. It was 7:45 am when the phone rang.
I’ve never liked the phone. Don’t like making calls, don’t like taking calls. You never know who’s on the other line until it is too late, then you’re stuck talking to them. The phone rang three times as I waited to make sure who ever was on the other end was serious about the call. The phone rang four, five and six times as I watched, then the answering machine picked up the line. I heard my voice telling people to leave a message and that I would get back to them when I heard a sob, a small, quiet, desperate sob and then I recognized my mother’s voice saying “Drew?”
I jumped up and grabbed the phone, said hello and waited. Nothing, no sound, other than slow uneven breathing.
“Mom? Are you there? What’s wrong?”
And then she cried. I heard the phone on the other end knock, as if it was placed on a table. I stood there quietly, not knowing what to do. Sam stared up at me. She knew something was not right from my voice and my actions, but she waited for me to let her know what was up. Time passed, not much time, not more than a few seconds, but long enough to send my mind reeling as to what was going on. Then I heard the familiar voice of my Uncle Bill. Familiar, but different, firmer, sadder than I had ever heard it before.
“Drew? I don’t know of any good way to say this, so I’m going to say it right out. Your father is dead.”
The world slipped away. I didn’t know what to say or do, so I just stood there with the phone to my ear.
“He was on his way to work. He had left the house as usual about 5:20 AM. He had reached University and Grandview, the light turned green, he entered the intersection and then some dumb son-of-a-bitch, drunk as could be roared through the red light, slammed straight into the driver’s side of your dad’s Ford LTD. EMS said he died at impact. That god-damned son-of-a-bitch crumpled his truck up to hell and back, but had nothing on him but a cut on his head, where he bounced off the windshield. He was so drunk he just kind of floated around and didn’t get hurt a bit.”
He paused, caught his breath, I guess he was waiting for me to say something, but I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Drew, your mom needs you. Elizabeth needs you. You need to come home.”
That sank in and got me talking.
“Uncle Bill, I can be on the road within the hour.” I looked at the clock in the kitchen and started estimating. “That will make it about 8:45 and it takes about 7 hours of driving so I should be there by 4:00 to 4:30, if I make a stop or two on the way. I’ll be there this afternoon.”
“Drew, don’t go crazy driving here. Take your time. The last thing we need around here is another funeral to plan.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll drive safe and I’ll stop along the way, but I’ll be there tonight, by no later than 6:00 pm.”
“Good, you don’t know much your mom needs you. She can’t talk right now, but I’ll let her know you are on the way.”
That was about it. We said a little more, but I don’t remember the words. I just remember the shock. I guess I never thought about my dad dying. He seemed too tough to die.
At some point we must have said goodbye, because the next thing I really remember is walking back to my bedroom and starting to pack. Sam had come back with me, sitting quietly by the door watching me thrash around the room, pulling things from drawers, grabbing a suitcase. She must have watched that comedy for a few minutes before I finally woke up and realized what was going on. I needed to be rational, think about what I needed to do and then do it.
And then there was Sam. I could ask Billy and his mom to watch her for the next few days, but that would be awful short notice, knocking on their door, trying to stay calm and explain the situation. Or I could board her while I was gone, but that meant more time to find a place, get her stuff ready, and get her there. I looked at her. She still sat there, like a proud lion, tall and straight, looking me firmly in the eye and then I had the answer. She was going to Odessa with me. I needed the company, for the road and while I was there. I needed Sam.
“Sam, are you ready for a trip to the wilds of West Texas?” She stood up and her little stub tail fanned the air with excitement.
“First off, girl, I have to get clean. I’m going to take a shower, then we’re going to pack and then we’re going to drive.”
That’s exactly what we did. I showered, put on some good driving clothes. Then I packed. For my self a suit, a couple of ties, a couple of dress shirts, then jeans, boots, and shirts, plus some running gear. I figured Sam would enjoy a couple of runs in the arid West Texas air. Sam packed light, all she needed was her blanket, a toy, her leash, her collapsible water dish, and her sack of dog food. I loaded up the truck, looked around the house to see if I had left anything on or if I had forgotten anything. Once I was convinced the house was okay I took Sam out to the back yard for one last chance to relieve herself before we hit the road. Then we locked up the doors, walked out to the truck, and got in. It was 8:37 am.
I drove hard, Sam slept most of the way. Every hour or so she would wake up, sit up for a moment, look out the window, get bored with what she saw, curl back up on the seat and go back to sleep.
I had told my Uncle Bill it would take me seven hours of driving to get to Odessa, but that’s driving the speed limit. We didn’t. Five and a half hours later I crossed the Ector county line. There was nothing visibly wrong but as soon as I crossed the county line my foot involuntarily raised off the gas pedal. As I pulled to the side of the road Sam woke from her nap and looked around. There was nothing around but flat ground, sagebrush and clear sky, no visible reason to come to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Something else had stopped me, maybe nothing more than a feeling, but it was a damn strong feeling. I wanted to turn the truck around and drive anywhere but to Odessa. Right then I knew that whatever connection I had to Odessa was gone. I didn't belong here, I don't know if I belonged anywhere, but I knew I didn't belong here. But I couldn't turn around, not today. I had no choice but to go on and face whatever was waiting me in Odessa.
Fifteen minutes later I pulled up in front of the house I grew up in. It was 2:25 pm. Sam was glad to get out. Once we crossed the county line and I dealt with my temporary crisis of revulsion she had been more attentive. My stop and go driving told her we were near somewhere more interesting than the previous hours had been.
Sam, being a true lady, waited until I opened her door, then she leapt out onto the sidewalk. She immediately walked onto the lawn and started sniffing the grass. While she was busy inspecting the lawn the front door opened up. Uncle Bill walked out the door, stopped, looked at his watch and shook his head at me.
“What did I say about driving sane? Austin to Odessa in, what, five, six hours?”
All I could do was grin sheepishly. “Once I got going I saw no reason to stop.”
He walked toward me then picked me up in a hard, fierce, loving hug. He held me in the air for a second or two then put me down, let go, stood back and looked at me. “Thank the Lord you made it safely. Your mom’s inside. Go on in, I’ll watch the dog.”
Sam looked up at Uncle Bill when he said that, then at me. She gave me the okay to go on in so I did.
There are times you want to remember; just as there are times you want to forget. This was one of those latter times. All I can really recall are the tears.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table. So was Elizabeth. Bud was standing with his back to me as I walked in, with a light hand on Elizabeth’s and Mom’s shoulder. I stood there for a moment, just taking in the scene. I heard the television in the living room, and over that I heard the sound of George and Mary, Elizabeth’s and Bud’s twins, and the sound, nothing more than the gentle presence really, of one other person, an adult, in the living room. It was probably my Aunt Sherry, Uncle Bill’s wife.
Mom had her head down, holding it in her hands. All was quiet in the kitchen until I broke the silence.
“Mom?”
She looked up and at me, just stared for a moment, I guess trying to believe in and accept what her eyes were seeing. Bud turned around and gave me the good Bud look, the one that says I had done something right, so for that moment I was grateful and I nodded my head to him with a slight smile. He returned the nod as Elizabeth stood up and then ran to me. She nearly knocked me down with her hug and she buried her face into my shoulder. All she could say was “Drew.” Mom’s brain must have received the message her eyes saw because she stood up and walked toward me in that motherly way she always had, not too slow, not too fast, just the right speed with love radiating from each and every step. This time love was mixed in with heartbreak, but the love wasn’t lost, it was just saddened.
I freed one arm from Elizabeth’s embrace and reached out to my Mom. She walked into my embrace and there we were, the three of us, Mom and Elizabeth burying into me. No words were necessary or would have even been right. I held the only women I loved in my arms, knowing there was nothing I could do to ease their pain, and I felt my pain mix with theirs, and I wondered if I would break down from it all. Just as I begin to feel weak Bud walked over and placed his strong hand on my shoulder, and I felt his strength and love in a way I never had. Until that moment I didn’t realize I had a brother, but I did, even if only by marriage. I looked at him and he looked at me. Again, nothing need to be said.
Uncle Bill came in the house with Sam and she immediately started sniffing the scene. She walked into the kitchen and looked at everyone there then trotted into the living room. I heard a scratch at the back door. Uncle Bill followed Sam into the living room and I heard the back door open. Brutus came tearing into the house, delighted to see Sam and the two of them ran into the kitchen, playfully nipping at each other. It had been nearly two years since they had seen each other but they picked up on their relationship as if they had seen each other the day before. The two of them ran in circles around each other, darting in between our legs and under the kitchen table. George and Mary, nearly three years old, came running into the kitchen laughing at the antics of Sam and Brutus. In such a somber moment I saw joy in their eyes and joy in the dance of Sam and Brutus. I had to smile, it was good to smile. Uncle Bill was smiling too and it wasn't long before I saw that everyone was smiling, even Mom.
We spent the rest of that day talking. Well, everyone else talked, I mostly listened. They talked about Dad and how he lived. There were a lot of stories told that day. Some of them made us laugh, some of them made us wince, more than one left a tear in our eyes. Around 6:00 the kitchen became alive with the tempting smells of my Aunt Sherry’s cooking. She was a more refined cook than those of us born and bred in West Texas were used to, but she did well and so did we. An hour or so later, Bud and I stood side by side at the kitchen sink. I was washing the dishes, Bud was drying them. We could have used the dishwasher, but truth is, we needed the activity, we needed the feeling of actually doing something, of staying busy.
I learned a lot about how to listen that day, of how to quietly nod as someone spoke, of how to lean in to show interest, of how to interject a question here and there to keep the story on track or to tie two stories together. I also learned a lot about my dad, mostly how little I knew about him. I guess we were too much alike, he and I. Once we got mad, we were determined as hell to not be the first one to back down, and, as a result, neither one of us backed down. We had come close two Christmas' ago to mending things, thanks to Sam and Brutus but we had not closed the deal between us and since then, for nearly two years, we had talked rarely. Now it was too late, he was gone, and all that we could have said to each other never would be.
Around 9:30 pm, we were all sitting in the living room. Sam and I laid on the floor, watching the little ones, George and Mary, sleeping quietly on a small blanket with Elizabeth sitting in between them, gently stroking Mary’s hair.
Brutus was up on the couch, with his head resting in Mom's lap. The two of them looked sad and tired from the day.
“He's been very protective of me today. He knows something isn't right. He just knows.”
My Mom was petting Brutus as she spoke. I didn't know if she was speaking to anyone of us or was just talking to fill the silence as the night had grown quiet.
Sam was watching the entire scene, Mary, George and Elizabeth on the floor near us, Bud sitting at the formal dining table with Uncle Bill, Aunt Sherry sitting on the couch next to my Mom, her arm draped around my Mom's shoulder, Brutus resting his head in my Mom's lap. Sam lifted her head, stood up and walked over to the couch, leaned forward and nudged Brutus, then sat down on her haunches and smiled at Mom.
“Oh, my God, Gene was right, she smiles!”
My Mom leaned over, sweet talked and petted Sam. Sam's stub tail swished rapidly.
“Just two nights ago Gene said Sam was a smart dog. We were watching TV, Brutus was on the couch with us, almost asleep when he hopped down off the couch, stretched and walked to the door. He just stood there until Gene walked over and opened the door. Well, Brutus trotted out into the backyard and goes to the restroom, then comes walking back into the house. Gene just nodded his head and tells me how Sam house-broke Brutus when the two of you were here at Christmas... when was that, oh Lord, nearly two years ago? I hadn't thought about it but I realized we really hadn't trained him at all, never had to housebreak him. When he needs to go, he gets up and stands by the back door. If we don't open the door quickly enough he just stands there and whines just a bit, but he'll just stand there until someone opens the door.”
I nodded at Mom before I spoke.
“Dad was right. We both noticed it that Christmas. Whenever Brutus would start sniffing around Sam would herd him right out the door into the yard. She had me trained too, I would see her herding him along and I would get up and open the door so there would be no delay. She taught him how to act around Mary and George. She knew they're different than the rest of us and she taught Brutus the same thing.”
“You know, you're right. Brutus might get annoyed, even a little snippy at one of us adults but I've seen George just pull on his tail and Brutus just looks at you, just asking for help, but he never turns on George or Mary, never. I just thought Brutus had a sense about kids but I think you're right, Drew, I think Sam trained him. Why, just then, it was like she had enough of us moping about and went over and nudged Brutus and smiled for your Mom.”
I nodded at Bud, he had noticed it too. Sam was a damn smart dog and Brutus had taken to his lessons well.
Next week, in Episode 34 of The Hollow Men, Uncle Bill makes a demand of Drew, and Sam decides to keep a closer eye on Uncle Bill.
this one came with tears, good tears of love and loss