I’m Going To Rehab!
I walked into Barry’s proudly, like a war hero returning to the patriotic city that had raised me. In my wasted stupor, I believed I looked stunningly young and beautiful, and felt proud to be bringing my new friend to experience the bar that had once been my figurative home.
Old Barry was wiping the counters, food sizzling in the back. I took off my leather jacket, threw it over the barstool like I’d done forever, and sat on top of it.
“Two drafts,” I said, plopping my credit card on the bar. Barry smiled.
“Food smells good,” Marvin said. “Whatcha got back there?”
“Eggs, bacon, hash browns,” Barry replied. “What’ll ya have?”
“All of that,” Marvin replied. “Scrambled.”
I couldn’t imagine eating. I got up and plugged in the jukebox and played everything Larry had liked. I told Barry all about my sober life, which no longer existed. I asked about Larry; he was still in Florida, his brother still living next door to Barry’s Bar. I drank and drank.
We were having a glorious time when, maybe two hours into the morning’s activities, I pulled out a business card from my back pocket.
“I’m going to call Frank the Angel!” I said. I went outside to the local pay phone, filthy as ever, and held the mouthpiece together while I dialed Frank’s number.
“Hello?”
“I’m going to rehab!” I screamed. “Thanks to you!”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at Barry’s Bar!” I hooted. “It opens at 7! I used to live in Pitcairn – came here all the time! But I’m going to rehab in Erie, so I wanted to say goodbye.”
“Do you need a ride?” Frank the Angel asked.
“Nope,” I slurred. “I found a biker last night who’s taking me! I just wanted to thank you again for saving my life!”
“No problem,” said Frank the Angel. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine!” I yelled. “Thanks again! Goodbye!”
I hung up and went back into the bar. At some point, I ordered a cheeseburger.
“They have the best burgers!” I told Marvin, who had barely digested breakfast. “I’ll buy you one!” A credit card is a wonderful thing to have.
Sometime after my burger, Frank the Angel and Frank the Driver showed up at Barry’s Bar. They walked into the dingiest bar in the world, both clean and sober, and found me spinning in the dark on my bar stool.
“OH MY GOD it’s Frank the Angel!” I screamed, nearly falling off the stool while trying to stand. I leapt on him, hugged him hard.
“Be careful!” Frank the Angel laughed. “Don’t crush your cigarettes!” He held out a pack of cigarettes that he’d bought just for me – exactly the right kind.
“Oh my god I love you!” I shrieked. “Thank you so much!” I enveloped him again.
I did not hug Frank the Driver, who was frowning at the situation.
“I just wanted to make sure you really have a ride to rehab,” said Frank the Angel, suspiciously eyeing one-legged Marvin.
“I do!” I squealed. “Marvin this is Frank the Angel!”
Marvin shook Frank’s hand. Even after being up all night and drinking all morning, Marvin appeared sober. “I’ll take care of her,” he said. “Don’t worry.”
“Can you stay?” I begged. “We’re playing the jukebox!”
“No way,” grumbled Frank the Driver.
“Nah,” said Frank the Angel. “We’re gonna get going. But call me if you need anything, anytime!”
“I will!” I shrieked. “Thanks for the cigarettes!” I lit one, displaying gratitude.
As Frank the Angel departed, I remembered where I was supposed to be.