1994

Mona Rose Johnson
5901 S. May Ave. #140
Oklahoma City OK 73119



1994
By Mona Rose Johnson
That morning she dreamed about Steve. It was always the same dream. They made love in some colorful little cabin in the woods west of Prescott on a crisp fall morning. The Righteous Brothers sang a moldy oldie on Steve’s boom box. The slap of the ceiling fan beat a rhythm as Steve kissed her, first a quick peck on the lips and then a long slow deep kiss that felt like swimming into a crisp clean pond. She felt like they were two ponds becoming one. The slap, slap, slap of the ceiling fan beat a rhythm. Steve was hard to put in a box. He had deep confederate grey eyes that could cut into you like x-rays. His hair was deep brown and thick.
“Wake up.” yelled Michael, shaking Teresa gently. “Get me some water.” Michael couldn’t get up easily and get his own water. Teresa rose to her feet, pulled another ice cube tray out of the refrigerator, dumped the ice cubes in a plastic red pitcher, filled the pitcher with water and poured the water into Michael’s glass.
“Thank you.” said Michael. “More, please?.”
She poured another glass of water and handed it to him. Teresa thought about that stupid dream about Steve. Steve was a lawyer. Teresa had known Steve for a long time, about thirty years. She had no idea why lately he was invading her dreams; she thought she was perfectly happy with Michael. Teresa climbed back in bed and dreamed some more about Steve.



“Goin’ up to the spirit in the sky
That’s where I’m gonna go when I die
When I die and they lay me to rest
I’m gonna go to the place that’s the best.

“Wake up Teresa,” Michael Alan Colby, age 41, screamed to his girlfriend Teresa, age 43. “I need a drink.“ Teresa opened her eyes, rubbed them, sat up and stretched and looked at the beat up clock radio” “That was spirit in the sky,” said KSLX radio announcer. “The time is six am..” The temperature in Phoenix at this hour is 85 degrees. We should get up to about 102 today.”
Teresa turned her attention to Michael’s drink.
Michael suffered from a fast moving form of multiple sclerosis and had to get around in a wheelchair. She raced to the front of the room. The couple lived in room 316 of the A.J. Head Hotel on Cortez Street in Prescott, Arizona for the past week, since school got out in the elementary school district Teresa substitute taught for in Phoenix and the couple moved up to Prescott.
Teresa pulled the ice cube tray out of the refrigerator, dumped ice in the sink, dumped ice cubes in Michael’s favorite glass, dumped half a glass of generic Canadian whiskey and half a glass of generic cola into the glass, poured a glass of generic diet cola and carried the drinks to the bedroom.
“Aren’t you glad it’s summer and you don’t have to substitute teach today?“
I love June, said Teresa. “I still have some money in the bank and I don’t have to start hustling for a summer job yet. I mean I should but I’m not that desperately poor yet.”
“You did great this year,” Michael said. “I have never seen you so happy. You’d come home for a day of teaching fifth grade just bouncing. I think you’ve found your calling in life.”
“Well I guess this morning I’m going to be a grocery store delivery service. We need more booze and soda and I want to get to the store before it gets real hot.”
“Good idea,” said Michael. “I got you trained real good, don’t I?”
“Well we’ve been together almost four years. I should be well trained.”
“I appreciate every thing you do.” he said. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Teresa set her glass by the sink, slid on her T-shirt with the sneakers on it and her relaxed fit size 18 jeans and her pink thrift shop two-dollar Nikes. She didn’t bother with the bra or socks. She didn’t plan on seeing any of her self-righteous no drinking friends between the hotel and Albertson’s at six thirty in the morning. She picked up her hairbrush and brushed her straggly blondish hair until it shined and tied it back in a ponytail. She pulled a ten and five dollar bill out of her bag and stuffed them in her pocket and stuck her keys on top of the bills so she wouldn’t lose them. Then she raced out of the room and down the stairs to make her phone call.
”Good morning, Teresa” said Greg, the night clerk, as she raced out the door of the hotel and down the street to the store. “Good morning, Greg,” she replied. “Good morning, Fred,” she said to the old man who always sat in the armed chair in front of the hotel. “Good morning, Teresa,” Fred said. Teresa had lived at the hotel several times in the past eight years. She moved around a lot. She didn’t like to stay in one place too long. She didn’t know why, it was just the way she was.
On a late August morning the 5400 air of Prescott was clear and just a little chilly. Many of the 15,000 residents were sleeping except for those who had to be to work before seven o’clock. The atmosphere in front of the apartment complex was kind of dreamlike. A few cars drove by. The drivers seemed to be in an early morning fog. They stared at Teresa with vacant not enough coffee eyes.
Teresa raced down Cortez Street and turned onto Sheldon. She waited for the light to change and raced over to Albertson’s. She moved like a well-programmed robot. She shopped at Albertson’s so much she could have been a tour guide, she thought to herself as she raced in the door. She grabbed a bottle of generic Canadian whiskey and a generic bottle of cola and a generic bottle of diet cola and dragged them up to the cashier.
“Playing delivery person again,” Jeanine the clerk asked. It always amazed Teresa how neat and clean Jeanine looked at six thirty in the morning.
“Of course,” said Teresa. “It’s what I do best. Four years of college and a teaching certificate and my most polished job skill is going to Albertson’s.”
“I don’t know why you do it. You don’t even drink.”
“If I didn’t get it for Michael he’d whine and fuss. He might even leave me for someone else who would get it for him. I don’t think I could deal with that. I have the thought of being alone.”
“I guess I understand,” said Jeanine. “My old man has some strange habits. But I love him just the way he is. I wouldn’t change a thing.”
As Teresa raced out the door of Albertson’s she tried to rearrange the packages of whiskey and soda. This was the hardest part of the trip to the store, trying to balance two liter bottles of soda and the one- gallon whiskey bottle without dropping them or breaking the bag. As she stopped to re-balance her purchases she ran into a study male body. The bag broke and the bottles clattered to the pavement. Fortunately they were plastic bottles.
“Here, let me help you,” said the voice. “Do you want a ride home?”
“Please,” said Teresa desperately. It was starting to get warm and she was starting to sweat. She found herself looking into a pair of brilliant grey eyes. It was like they saw right into the inner depths of her brain. There was something familiar about those eyes. She hadn’t gazed into those eyes for a long time but the memory banks of her brain started sending pictures of the last time she had gazed into those eyes.
“Steve, it’s you.” She found herself saying.
“Teresa, it’s you,” he said. His eyes swept over her body like his brain was trying to imprint pictures of her into his memory bank. “You look so the same. You’re muscular, like you’re doing lots of heavy physical labor, but you’re so healthy. Your skin looks like those ads for skin improvement for older women. Your hair is so shiny and luxurious. You look like... an antique beach bunny. How long has it been, 1974 or l975. It seems like a lifetime ago.”
“It’s been two more kids and a disastrous second marriage for me. And I don’t have custody of any of my children. I have stable family members raising my kids and a pretty neat job. I substitute taught down in Phoenix last spring. And I’m caring for a guy with multiple sclerosis this summer. We live at the AJ Head Hotel. Not the glamorous life of a journalist that I dreamed about back in the 70’s. But it’s not boring.”
“Let’s put your stuff in my car and you can follow me back in the store. I have a few purchases to make and then I’ll give you a ride home.”
“So why are you in town. I read somewhere you had a corporate attorney job in Salt Lake City.”
“I took the summer off. My mother died last year and my father died in April and I’m trying to get their house ready to sell. I’m also writing a book, trying to get some closure on my growing up years.”
“That’s funny,” said Teresa. “I’m planning on doing the same thing this summer. My mother died in 1989, and my father died in 1991, on Father’s Day. It’s time for me to see about getting closure on their deaths.”
Teresa followed Steve to the produce aisle. “I love June.” He said as he picked out a big package of strawberries and some red, yellow and green peppers and stuck each selection in a plastic bag. Then he strode to the meat section and asked the clerk for three pounds of chicken tenders.
“Looks like you’re eating healthy these days,” said Teresa.
“Yes, I gained some weight over the winter,” he said. “My wife is a great cook.”
“Is your wife staying with you?”
“No, she’s at BYU this summer working on her Doctor’s degree. She’s a middle school special education teacher. She does a great job. We have three children and they’re a great family. They call me every day.”
“It’s good you have such a wonderful family. I have four children but they’re all in the custody of someone else. I make a little money substitute teaching but I could do better. My old man isn’t so bad. He drinks a little but with all his health problems I can’t blame him. He got sick so fast. He was totally healthy when we met four years ago. It’s hard for him to face what’s going on with him.”
“You guys could have a better life. If I didn’t belong to the Mormon Church I don’t think my life would have been so wonderful.”
“I went to church a couple of times this past winter. I love the services, it’s just I’m so wore out from my life with Michael I don’t always get there.”
“Well here we are, the A.J. Head Hotel. How about I buy you lunch tomorrow? I’ll meet you in front at say 1 o’clock, all right. Maybe we can exchange ideas on the books.”
“Sure,” said Teresa. “Maybe I’ll share what I have with you. See you tomorrow, then.”
Teresa rode the elevator up to her room. She raced through the door and put her purchases away and made a couple of drinks and fixed Michael and her a bologna and cheese sandwich and they ate their breakfast in silence. They watched the Today show on television. After four years together there didn’t seem to be much to talk about. They finished eating and Teresa cleaned up the mess. It was time for showers.
Teresa loaded up her stuff and got ready for her shower. Toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, comb, generic Albertson's shampoo, generic Albertson's cream rinse, one dollar aerosol Slow Dance fragrance were all dumped in a shopping bag ready for shower time.
Teresa grabbed the bag and raced to the shower. She pulled off her clothes and caught sight of her reflection in the full length mirror. An antique beach bunny, she thought to herself, I do look like an antique beach bunny as she stared at the forty something reflection.
Teresa's grown out perm fell halfway down her back. The light brown hair was bleached by the sun. Splashes of sunburn touched her face, her forehead, and her cheeks. Her nose always stayed sunburn. Teresa climbed in the shower, shampooed, conditioned her hair and cleaned her body. As she showered she sang her favorite Beatles song, Eight Days A Week.
The song reminded her of high school days, when she would sit on the quadrangle grass in front of the school with the smart sophomores, grateful they would let her sit with them because she was a smart but very geeky freshman with very thick brown glasses, and watch Steve and his friends chase each other around the quadrangle.
She dried off and dressed. It was now time to help Michael with his bath.
Teresa raced back into the room and dropped the bath bag onto the bench and grabbed Michael's bag and loaded it with the shampoo and cream rinse and soap and deodorant and hairbrush and comb and stuck it on a handle of the wheelchair. Michael slid on his blue flip flops and she helped him into the chair. She undid the brakes and opened the door and willed him out to the hallway.
"Hello, Michael, hello Teresa." yelled a gaggle of children as she wheeled the chair towards the elevator. "When are you going to babysit us, Teresa," the children shouted. "We can't wait to have a real teacher babysit us?"
"Whenever your mother asks me," Teresa said.
They reached the elevator and Teresa pushed the elevator call button and in few minutes the elevator rattled up the third floor. Tina, the hotel clerk pushed the open button and the door opened up.
"How's the baby?" Teresa asked as Tina and Teresa loaded Michael and chair into the elevator and the Tina pused the down button and the elevator crept downward.
"She's getting to be a handful," Tina said. "Ed's watching her right now. He's so good with her."
"I can't believe how much you've changed since last year," Tina told Michael. "You're so different. You seem to have a better attitude."
"I've done a lot of thinking," Michael said. "When I first used the wheelchair, I was so angry."
"Here we are," said Tina.
Teresa pushed the chair into the bathrooom. Michael stood up, pulled off his shorts and started over to the bath. He loved the antique bath tub on the second floor.
The water flowed into the tub and she helped him climb into the tub. She couldn't hel but notice how skinny he was. He looked like a Rwanda refuge. She could remember the first time she'd seen him. He'd just got out of prison. He'd been working out. His arms were still strong now from pushing the wheelchair but his legs were skinny and wore out from lack of use.
He washed, he shampooed his hair and rinsed it off and climbed out of the tub. She brushed his long thick hair. His hair was straight like a horse's mane. Her hair was fine and had a mind of its own.
"I want to go to the noon Alcoholic's Anonymous meeting with you today," Michael said. "I think I have a thing or two to tell those people about alcoholism."
Teresa swallowed hard. Michael in all his drunken splendor at the noon meeting at Peace Hall, Prescott's haven for recovering alcholics, was a site to behold. Peace Hall was tucked in a potato chip warehouse and was a room full of chairs and a coffee pot one block west of Whiskey Row, Prescott's street full of oldtime cowboy bars and tourist shops.
At eleven am they were ready for the hike to Peace Hall, five blocks away. Teresa loaded up Michael's ditty bag with his bottle and some mix and his Thirstbuster cup. Twenty five minutes later they rolled through the door of Peace hall. Teresa set Michael up in a chair and filled coffee cups for both of them. Molly H. came over to Michael and gave him a big hug. "I'm glad you came," Molly said. Molly's life had been as rough as Michael's. She accepted him as he was while many people in AA looked down their nose on him because he stayed drunk.
Jack T. and his best friend Chris M. raced through the door of Peace Hall. Molly poured coffee in both their cups. Chris raced back outside; he didn't stay at meetings very often. Jack gathered up books for the 12 noon morning and took them to the leader's chair. At 12 sharp he banged the gavel and said, "Will the meeting come to order." The room quickly quieted down. "We'll have a moment of silence followed by the Serenity Prayer."
After the readings, Jack started the sharing. "I've been told when you're having a hard time staying sober, you need to get out of yourself and do something for AA. Well, I'm having a hard time staying sober today. So I'm leading this meeting and I want to hear about how everybody else is staying sober. "Does anybody out there have any ideas?"
Teresa's stomach twisted. Michael raised his hand. "My name is Michael, and I'm an alcholic." "Hi, Michael," everybody said. "I've been drunk for three and a half years, ever since I got out of prison this last time. I get maybe three weeks without a drink and someone comes over to my house and brings me some alcohol and boom-- I'm off and running."
"So it sounds like your topic is how to not drink, right."
"I guess so," said Michael.
"Molly, do you want to share? You've had some problems getting this program and now you're doing a lot better."
"My name is Molly and I'm an alcoholic." "Hi, Molly." "I understand what you're going through, Michael. I had over four years sober and I went out and got drunk. I suffer from the same crippling disease you do. Their are days when I'd like to get blasted or do a great big shot of speed which was my drug of choice."
Michael tapped Teresa on the shoulder. "We gotta go outside," he said. "I need a drink."
Teresa groaned to herself. She wished the floor would swallow her whole. Why did she live with a guy like Michael? Why did her life have to revolve around his next drink? They gathered up his stuff and Teresa pushed him outside. She discreetly pushed him back behind the building a little and fixed him a drink.
"So when are you quitting drinking," Jack said as he lit a cigarette and strode towards Teresa and Jack.
"I've done it before," said Michael. "I had almost a year once. Then I came home one day ater a meeting and my old lady was shacking up with some dude. I've had a problem with AA ever since."
"That's not AA's fault, that's you and your old lady's fault. But I understand how you felt. I wanted to bury my old lady in cement when she started messing around on me."
Teresa swallowed hard again. This conversation was turning mean.
"Teresa's lucky I don't treat her like I treated that old lady," Michael said. "I'm a gentleman compared to what I used to be."
"Me too," said Jack. "Since I've gotten into AA, I've learned how to deal with my rage better. I can talk to people in the program about it rather than take it out on the people I care about."
"Which reminds me," said Michael. "I've got something to talk about to both of you that isn't so pretty. I think you two are lucky I don't carry guns with me any more.You guys are getting too buddy buddy with each other."
"What do you mean?" asked Jack. "We're just friends. I think Teresa treats you pretty good. She teaches school and uses the money she makes to buy you alcohol and get you a place to live."
"I help her," Michael. "I get social security disability. I pay part of the rent. And if somebody doesn't give her money I help her get it. Teresa is such a wuss she wouldn't make any money if somebody didn't show her how to stand up for herself."
"You demand money and you get us in trouble with the landlord."
"Because you're a wuss," said Michael.
"Am not,"said Teresa.
"Are too," said Michael.
"You guys need to settle down," said Molly lighting a cigarette as she walked towards Teresa and Jack and Michael.
"We were just going," said Michael. "I'm getting tired. I sure apprecite you're being so nice to me today, Molly."
Molly walked over and gave Michael a big hug. "No problem," she told Michael.
"You're one of my favorite people."
"We'll see you guys later," said Jack. "Maybe if you decide to sober up we can play some cribbage, Michael. You're a great player."
"Maybe I'll surprise you one day and do just that."
Teresa loaded up the stuff and started to wheel Michael home.
"I don't like that guy," said Michael. "I don't like the way he acts around you."
"Don't worrry about it," said Teresa. "He hasn't been sober all that long. People like him get kind of a self-righteous attitude."
"That's why I don't really want to get sober," said Michael. "I'm ornery now but watch out if I don't drink for a while."
They rolled home in silence and Teresa thought about what she was going to write for Steve tomorrow. Memories of her parents bounced in an out of her brain like pin balls off the walls of a pinball machine. Her dad loved to drink and her mother loved her dad. They were such beautiful people, but so tragic. She loved being around Michael because he smelled like cigarettes and alcohol. And that smell always reminded of her parents.
"Home again, home again," she said to Michael. "We've had a long day."
"I can't wait," he said. "I'm tired. I guess you're going to work on that stupid journal of yours again."
"I promised my father I would write a story about him and mom right before he died," she told Michael as they rolled into the hotel and over to the elevator and waited for Malcolm, the afternoon hotel clerk to take them upstairs. "Now that school's out I want to fulfill that promise."
"I wish you well," said Michael. "If you write about me make me handsome and charming. I want my own fan club."
"How are you folks today," Malcolm asked as he assisted Michael into the elevator.
"Just fine," said Teresa. "We've been tearing up Whiskey Row all afternoon."
"You sure have," said Malcolm, winking. He pushed the number three button on the elevator. "You two are quite the party animals, and it's not even one in the afternoon."
"Well I've had a long day," said Michael. "I'm ready for bed."
"Sweet dreams," said Malcolm, letting them out of the elevator. "You two lovebirds have a great afternoon."
Teresa wheeled Michael down to the room, opened the door, helped him undress to his T-shirt and shorts and tucked him in bed. She turned on the lamp in the corner of the room, grabbed her battered journal and a BIC pen and started to right. In no time she was transported back to 1958.