Going Home(Darrell Case) “Give me another.” Yancy said, slamming his glass down on the bar. Good thing the glass had sturdy construction, or he would have broken it. Last week, Gary had argued with the boss. He almost got fired.
“He comes in every week on Friday and drinks himself into oblivion.” Marty said. Terry stopped counting the receipts. He glared at his employee. “Marty, it’s a bar. People come here to get drunk.”
“But what if he drives home and has a wreck and kills somebody?”
“we are not legally responsible. We can’t watch over every drunk.”
“But what if he kills someone?” Marty said, not letting it go.
“Look Marty, when I was tending bar, I had this guy. Comes in sets at the bar getting drunker and drunker. About a little before closing time, he staggers out. Next morning, his face is all over the news. Driving on the wrong side of the road. Kills a woman and her three kids, all less than 10 years old. Oldest one was sick. She was on her way to the hospital. He’s leaning against his car when the cops arrive. Shook me to my core. “
“So, the bar was responsible?”
“Nope, not according to our lawyer. The law puts the blame right back on the drunk.” Gary said, picking up the receipts.
“Can I at least refuse to serve him?” Marty said, knowing the conversation was over. He headed for the door. Gary lay down the receipts.
“If you don’t want the job, I know of five guys who will jump at the chance to work here.” Gary said with a sigh.
“Ok ok.” Marty said, palms out, as he backed to the door. He returned to the bar. If possible, the crowd seemed more boisterous than ever.
Tonight, Yancy came in earlier. He set on the stool at the end and ordered drink after drink. Marty tried to soothe his conscience. If he doesn’t drink here, he will drink at some other Tabern.
“Look Yancy, you’ve had enough.” Marty said.
“My money is just as good as the next guy. You give me that bottle.” He made a grab for the whisky bottle. Marty pulled it away. Doubling up his fist, he swung at Marty. Missing, Yancy fell off the stool. Two men setting on nearby stools helped him up.
On his feet, he said, his speech slurred. “Leave me alone. Why you grabbing ahold a me?” He swung at them, missing. They pushed him toward the door. Using the tables scattered around, he made his way to the door of the Tavern.
“Thanks guys.” Marty said, relieved.
“No problem.” One said.
“Hope he makes it home ok,” the other one said.
“Yeah, me too.” Marty said.
The last one out, Marty mopped the floor and locked up. At his apartment, he stumbled into the bedroom. Undressing, he fell into bed but couldn’t sleep. What about the ones who left drunk? Did they go home with no money because they spend it all on beer or whisky? Did they have a fight with their wife or girlfriend? Hopefully, Yancy got pulled over and went to jail. He fell into a troubled sleep.
He woke at 10 feeling as he hadn’t slept at all. Making coffee, he turned on the TV. “Here is what we know so far. Yancy Willis is hold up in his home at 2705 Sycamore. He is holding his wife and three children hostage.” A photo flashed on the screen of Yancy, a good-looking woman and three little children. Marty’s hand trembled, so he spilt coffee on the floor. He set the cup down on the counter and stared open mouth at the TV.
“The encounter happened around 1Am with a domestic disturbance call. Police were called to 2705 Sycamore. Willis met them at the door with a weapon. He discharged that weapon which we learned later was a 12 ga. Shotgun striking one officer in the leg, the other officer uninjured returned fire. Before Willis could shut the door, he was struck in the left arm. The injured officer is in stable condition.”
Marty set down his forgotten cup of coffee. He felt sick to his stomach. He was responsible for the carnage happening at the Willis home. What could he do? The damage was already done. “Why did I serve him? I know what he is. He’s an alcoholic.” He said out loud. You could pray. The thought came out of nowhere.
“Me pray. I’m so far from God. it’s like I’m in the next universe. Until he went to college, he attended church. His mother and father believed in God. At twelve, he went forward and prayed with the pastor to receive Christ. He went to school the next day carrying The Bible they gave him. Quickly he learned that while all cults and eastern religions were welcome. The Word of God was not.
“What you carrying that old book for?” One boy said, eyeing the Bible.
“You wanta be counted with the nurds? Another said, squinting his eyes and twisting his mouth.
“It’s…it’s what they gave me at church last night.” Marty said. He thought they would understand.
Lester, one of the cool guys, put his elbow on another boy’s shoulder said. So you think it’ll keep you out of hell?” He laughed. “Look, fellows, Marty has a fire extinguisher.”

So throughout school and college, he hid his Christianity. The more he hid his believes from the world, the further from God he became.
“I don’t even know how to pray. It’s been so long,” Marty said. The first thing was to rid himself of the job. He called Gary on his cellphone.
“Yeah?” The one-word answer. Why did he even want to work for this guy?
“Gary, I quit,” Marty said, not even thinking about it.
“You what? You can’t quit. You’re scheduled to work tonight.” Gary screamed, fully awake now.
“I’ll pick up my paycheck tomorrow.” He hung up with Gary, still screaming obscenities.
Marty smiled. “That felt good.” He said to no one in particular. He couldn’t understand his good mood. His attention was drawn to the TV. He hadn’t even prayed when he saw the front door open to the Willis’s home. All guns aimed at him Yancy came out with one hand raise his left arm hanging useless at his side. SWAT took him to the ground, mindful of his wounded arm. His wife and children emerged from the house. SWAT backed off for a few seconds while his wife embraced her handcuffed husband. The children hung back, holding on to each other.
Marty’s second call went to his parents. His mother, as was her custom, answered the phone.
“Hello. She said, her voice sounded older. He remembered her gray hair.
“Mom, it’s Marty.” He choked up. Tears came to his eyes. His last visit home was a few months ago at Christmas. They ask him to attend the Christmas service with them. Reluctantly, he agreed. Watching the children march onto the platform brought back memories. His fourth grade Sunday School class were to give a concert in front of the whole church. He remembered how nervous he was. He sang the solo of O come all ye faithful. Frightened, he looked at his mother. She was mouthing the words. At the end of the program, she hugged him and told him he sounded wonderful. How could he have gotten so far off track?
“Oh, Marty, it so good to hear from you. How are you? Are you alright?”
“Yes, mom everything is fine. I’m thinking about coming home for a while. Is that ok?”
“Oh, Marty, that is so wonderful. “Marty could tell she was weeping.
“I’ll be there sometime tomorrow. See you then. Bye mom.”
“Goodbye, son. I will see you tomorrow.” She said. Marty ended the call, surprised to find his face wet with tears. He poured out his cold coffee and opened his refrigerator. Cans of beer occupied one entire shelf in Marty’s refrigerator. He started to throw them in the trash. Then thought better of it. He opened each can and poured the contents down the drain. In the end, he had a trash can filled with empty beer cans and two whisky and one wine bottle. He turned on a fan and opened the windows to rid the apartment of the smell.
“I could get drunk just on the odor.” He said. For the next half hour, he scrubbed the refrigerator. In the end, the refrigerator was clean and the stink of the booze gone. He sprayed the entire apartment with deodorizer. Showering, he went to the market for eggs and bacon. Cooking several eggs and strips of bacon, he warmed a cup of coffee. Finished eating, he called the landlord.
“If you look at the contract, you own me an extra month’s rent.” The man said.
“But I won’t be here. You can rent it to somebody else,” Marty said, calculating how much he would have left.
“And in the meantime, lose a month’s rent.”
“Ok.” Marty said, sighing. “I’ll leave the rent and keys on the kitchen table.”
“With next month’s rent in cash. No checks.”
”In cash.” Marty said, ending the call.
In the afternoon, he cleaned the apartment, including the windows and woodwork. Not in the contract, but he felt it was the right thing to do
At five, he decided not to wait for tomorrow. He drove to the bar to pick up his paycheck. Behind the bar, Gary looked up when he entered. A few of the patrons greeted him.
“You said tomorrow. Are you ready to get back to work?” Gary said, his face screwed up in a frown.
Marty smiled. “No, thanks just came for my paycheck.”
“I’m not paying you. You broke a bunch of my glasses and ran off some of my customers.” Gary smiled.
Marty stared at Gary open mouthed. “Gary, I’ve been one of your best employees. I never did that.”
“Prove it. Now get out of here fore I call the cops and have you thrown out.”
Marty left, knowing Gary had the upper hand. Despite the circumstances, he sang a gospel song he remembered from his childhood. Back at the apartment, he packed his car. Cooked the rest of the eggs and bacon. He cleaned the stove. Washed and dried the cookware and packed it. Turned off the refrigerator and checked the rooms. He checked the oil and at the corner gas station; he filled the car. At an ATM, he withdrew enough cash to pay the rent.
Finished, he lay down and fell into a deep sleep. As a matter of fact, he slept better than he had in ages. At five AM he opened his eyes, yawned and walked through the apartment one more time. Starting the car, he looked around. People were waking up and going to work with no regard for where they would spend eternity.
A hundred miles in, he stopped at a McDonalds. Back in the car, he continued his drive home. Down the gravel road from the farm, he pulled to the side. At the bridge, he watched the water flow. How many summer days had he and his friends splashed, swam and fished in these very waters? On such a day as this, he got baptized downstream, where the water flowed behind the church. Walking back to his car, his heart light, Marty drove to where his mother and father waited on the front porch. Marty had come home.

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