Awareness: The Hero Within, #1

CHAPTER 1

Anthony Markson sat on the barstool nursing his fifth beer of the evening, when his iPhone binged an alert.

Coming to church with me in the morning?

Shish. Not likely. He slipped the cell into his right front trouser pocket.

The stinky-sweet smells of the bar were starting to get to him, and he figured he should stop after this one. Anyway, he was pretty sure the bartender was watering down his drinks.

Besides, Becky would worry about him if he wasn’t home soon. The sun had set 20 minutes ago, and it wasn’t long till darkness would fall.

The Rat’s Nest Bar was Anthony’s favorite place to let down. The hole in the wall was one place he could be incognito, and where people only knew him as Tony.

Since this was his only real relaxation for the week, was it too much to ask for a few hours on Saturday night?

The Hispanic bartender eyed Anthony’s nearly empty glass. Another one? he asked.

Anthony was tempted, but shook his head. Better not. The old lady will raise a ruckus if I don’t leave soon. It simply wasn’t worth putting up with the guilt and ridicule he might find at home.

The tender nodded. I hear that. You better keep that one happy.

Anthony eyed the man. Did he know Becky? Can you bring my tab?

Sure thing. The man walked to the register leaving Anthony to stare into the dregs of his beer. Did Becky ever regret marrying an Angelo?

He raised the glass to his lips and finished it off, desperately fighting the craving to have a sixth, and a seventh, and an eighth.

Maybe if he switched to lite beer? Nah.

Anthony ambled to the checkout and paid his tab before the cravings could win the fight. He didn’t look forward to arguing with his wife or seeing the disappointed gleam in his son’s brown eyes. He knew how much Ben wanted to go the baseball game tomorrow.

He weaved his way out of the bar and into the parking lot to find his car.

No sooner had he slid the keys into the ignition, when his phone buzzed again. Anthony rolled his eyes, sure it was his sister, Janet. She just wouldn’t give up trying to pester him into coming to church with her. Not just him, either, but Becky and Ben, too.

She really ought to get a life. But as an unmarried school teacher she’d taken over his family as her pet project.

He almost didn’t bother checking the message. But when he did, his stomach lurched.

Deep-seeded guilt spiraled through him as he saw the simple message from Becky: When will you be home?

For a moment, the buttons on his phone swam in the air. And as Anthony typed a message back to his wife, he realized he was a bit more inebriated than he’d realized.

He had to correct the text twice, but he finally got it typed. In the car now. Headed home.

With a feeling of accomplishment, he pushed send.

Almost immediately, she responded back. Be careful.

Anthony didn’t know if it was possible, but he could swear there was some condescension in her message.

Be careful, in this case, meant she knew he’d probably had too much to drink and had no business behind the wheel.

He smirked. Little did she know, he’d driven home in much worse shape several times before.

Still, once Anthony pulled out of the bar’s parking lot and onto the familiar streets that would carry him home, he made sure to drive the speed limit. He didn’t want anything happening to the paint job on his Porsche.

Ten blocks later, he made it home without incident or accident. Now it was time to face the music.

He pulled his car into the two-car garage and checked his watch. The trip from The Rat’s Nest to his house took twenty minutes, and at the moment it was not much after 9:00 o’clock.

Suddenly deflated, Anthony felt he was wasting a perfectly good Saturday night. Actually, he felt a rant coming on.

Thirteen years ago, just out of Law school, before he and Becky had gotten married, they would have been out late, hanging with friends, not at all worried about waking up early enough to make it to a baseball game that neither of them wanted to attend. Why did all that have to change?

But then again, he reasoned with himself, Becky hadn’t been with him tonight. He hadn’t been out partying with her. She deserved some quality time with him, and he hated the way his rants turned into pity parties.

And Ben. Of course, Anthony loved his son to no end. The boy was looking forward to the game. He was so infatuated with baseball.

But there were times when he looked at the six-year-old, and he wondered if he’d left the better years of his life far behind him. No more partying, no more irresponsible drinking. No. Now it was a wife, a kid, and a nice house in the suburbs. What a drag.

Janet wouldn’t be impressed with his pity party. She’d told him time and time again he was blessed—that he had a blest life. He supposed he understood how someone as uninformed as his sister could see it that way.

Because Janet lived her life according to the ancient teachings in a book which might as well have been labeled fantasy.

Maybe this is just some weird mid-life crisis coming early.

Pity party over, Anthony walked inside the dark house.

He heard the murmur of the bedroom television down the hall. Becky was likely watching a recorded chapter of Grey’s Anatomy or something.

The only illumination came from the night light along the stairway leading to Ben’s room on the second floor.

Looking around in the darkness, Anthony realized he would have been perfectly happy staying at The Rat’s Nest.

He was a big boy.

He could face the argument and Becky’s silent treatment.

Anthony sucked in breath. Whom was he kidding?

He headed towards the warm and familiar and predictable bedroom.

Blessed, Anthony thought with bitterness. Yeah right.

CHAPTER 2

The next morning Anthony woke to the sound of Ben’s shuffling footsteps overhead. The boy was like clockwork. With no school on Saturday or Sunday morning, he never came downstairs until the Iron Man clock on his bedside table read 8:00 o’clock.

Crash!

From the sound of it, his son was playing with his Legos and had dropped them all over the hard wood floor.

The bed vibrated as Anthony began to chuckle. He rolled over and touched Becky’s forearm. Looks like our little slugger is up, he whispered.

Becky slid out of the queen-size bed, running a hand lovingly along Anthony’s chest as she did so.

He grinned, enjoying the truce that always came with morning. He playfully grabbed at her hand, tempted to yank her back down for some cuddle time. Why not make use of the twenty minutes or so they had before Ben arrived downstairs wanting breakfast.

The idea of a few blissful moments seemed appealing, but the thought didn’t last. His arm flopped back onto the bed. Anthony was just too tired. Or maybe it was the depression he didn’t know how to shake.

At least he’d cut himself off early enough last night to prevent a hangover, but the taste still lingered in his mouth. Becky probably wouldn’t be impressed with his beer breath.

And anyway, she was out of the room before he’d managed to sit up and brush his hair out of his eyes.

The clatter of breakfast preparations was music to his ears as Anthony headed for the bathroom to brush his teeth.

He dressed for the day, pulled up the sheets and the coral bedspread before he moved toward the kitchen to do his part with the meal.

You okay? Becky asked as he put the filter into the coffee maker. She’d left her long black hair down the way he liked it.

Yeah. He wasn’t much of a cook and appreciated the fact that Becky enjoyed it. He helped out by setting the table and fixing the coffee in the morning. Just a little groggy.

You might consider— Her dark eyes flashed. And the tone of her voice indicated he wasn’t going to like what was about to come out of her mouth. Staying home on Saturday nights every now and then. I’d like your company, and it just might help you from being so tired and draggy on Sunday mornings.

Maybe. Anthony shrugged. But you know the kind of work week I have. I need the time to de-stress and unwind. And before you ask—yes, I know how selfish that sounds.

Give me two Saturdays in a row, she wheedled. "That’s all I’m asking. I’d like to actually see my husband every now and then."

And what would we do, Becky? he asked gently.

Rent a movie we both want to see. Remember how we used to snuggle on the couch and watch TV?

Did he remember? Anthony smiled and reached for her.

And how long has it been since we’ve had a really good and satisfying talk? Becky continued. We used to discuss things for hours when we were dating. Or, God forbid, we could actually be intimate like a husband and wife should be.

Anthony flinched. The words stung, and he knew it was because they were true. He finished setting the table while he let the words sink in and then left the kitchen with the coffee maker percolating behind him.

She sighed in frustration as he passed her, but he paid her no mind. After all, he gave Becky and Ben the whole day on Sunday.

He walked into the bedroom, sat down on their beautiful bed in the tastefully decorated room and checked his phone for work e-mails.

As the senior partner at Dickerson, Markson, & Clark, one of the quickest growing law firms in the city, he had to keep up with the business.

This morning there were six messages waiting for him. E-mails that had not been there at six o’ clock yesterday evening. He scanned them quickly and decided they could all wait until tomorrow morning. Becky should be happy about that.

As he set the phone down, he heard the familiar beep that indicated a text message. He checked and saw it was from Janet.

Maybe next week.

She never let up. Don’t count on it, Anthony said out loud.

The thunderous footfalls of Ben announced he was coming down to breakfast. How could such a small boy make so much noise?

Anthony headed back to the kitchen. No matter how depressed, confused, and bored he was, he couldn’t help but smile when he remembered Ben’s excitement for today’s baseball game.

Although Anthony had no desire to attend, he’d do it because his son wanted to.

His own dad had been a dead-beat who had walked out when Anthony was fourteen, leaving his mother to raise him and his sister, Janet. He wasn’t going to be like that with Ben or any other kids he and Becky might have.

Sure, there were lots of things about the current state of his life that he’d like to change, but being a father was something he was proud of. Besides, they’d had to wait six years before Becky had gotten pregnant with Ben.

By the time Anthony joined his family in the kitchen, his son was already at the table. Ben’s Yankees baseball cap perched low on his head and covered most of his brown hair.

Ben shoveled in a mouthful of scrambled eggs.

Anthony reached over and tugged the bill of his son’s baseball cap lower on his forehead. Excited about the game, slugger?

Yeah. A bit of egg flew out of the child’s mouth as he spoke.

Me, too. Anthony grinned. Finish up breakfast, and maybe we can head out a little early and watch the team file in.

Awesome.

Seeing the surprised look Becky gave him, Anthony shrugged. Feeling a twinge of guilt, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her. She laid her head against his chest, and he rested his chin on the top of her head for a moment.

What was he in such a funk about? It certainly wasn’t her fault. Anthony knew he had a good life, with a wife who loved him, a son who adored him, a good job, and a beautiful house.

Why did he feel as if he was missing something? Why did he try to numb himself with nights out at places like The Rat’s Nest bar?

He wasn’t sure. And as he stood in the kitchen with his family, the day rolled out before them, sunny and filled with promise.

So it was hard to come up with an answer.

~*~

With the expanse of outfield laid out in pristine green and the crack of a fastball striking a bat, Anthony found it hard to believe he could be happy anywhere else—not at work, not at a bar, and certainly not at church, as Janet would have argued.

Something about being at the ballpark on a Sunday afternoon helped wash away all of the depression and confusion Anthony had felt earlier.

By the bottom of the third, Ben was ecstatic. Anthony and Becky had to keep reminding him there were other people behind him, trying to see the game.

Sit down slugger, Anthony cautioned him.

Becky latched onto Ben’s shirt. Stay in your seat and stop jumping up and down.

Still, the weather was gorgeous, his son was having the time of his life, and Anthony and Becky were enjoying the time together. At least he was.

He glanced at Becky. She looked very content. Something he’d not seen in her in quite some time. And she didn’t even like most sports.

He wondered again if he was spending too many late nights at work. More than that, maybe he should be staying at home on Saturday nights.

He loved Becky. He knew this without a doubt. But he had no idea why it was so hard to act like it. Was it really so difficult to sit with her and listen about her day?

Seriously, would it kill him to stay at home on a Saturday night and watch a movie with her? Maybe a cuddle on the couch would be better than numbing his brain with alcohol.

By the time the game was over, Anthony and Becky were holding hands. The little family made their way down the stairs and through the aisles.

Anthony also took Ben’s hand as they made their way out of the stadium to the crowded parking lot. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually felt they were a family—three people living together, loving each other, and relying on one another.

And whose fault was it? He felt stupid for wasting so much of his time at The Rat’s Nest Bar. What sort of husband was he? What sort of father?

He carefully drove his Porsche through the lot, trying to find a way through the thick traffic heading out after the game.

You okay? Becky asked him as he merged into the lane that would take them to the road.

Yeah. Why?

She shrugged and gave him a smile. You seem to be deep in thought about something.

Not really. He reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. I just want to apologize for not being home last night. I was being selfish, and I’m sorry.

The comment seemed to take Becky by surprise. But after a moment she returned the loving gesture by gripping his hand. Thank you.

Still, some part of Anthony wondered if this sense of bliss might be erased tomorrow when he returned to work.

After two or three days of his high stress job, he’d likely feel the need to drink again and start looking forward to a trip to The Rat’s Nest.

It was always like that. It’s just how his brain seemed to work. But what if I made sure it didn’t happen? What if I put the needs of my family first instead of being selfish?

Hey, Dad?

Yeah, bud? Anthony glanced at his son in the rearview mirror. The kid was obviously tired, his Yankees cap pulled down low to shade his tired eyes.

Can we stop for ice cream on the way home?

Anthony glanced toward Becky to see if he could discern her thoughts. Still mellow from the day, she gave a cute little shrug and played with her hair.

Okay, Anthony said. Since Mom is agreeable, I don’t see why not.

Ben perked up, excited all over again.

One thing for sure—the kid was going to sleep good tonight.

Becky trailed her fingers along his thigh. This was nice. We should do this again.

We should. Anthony grinned. Becky had always hated baseball.

He drove onto the expressway and headed home.

The city fell away behind them, and Anthony wound into the suburbs where they lived. He was truly lucky to have his life. He was sure Janet would not call it lucky. No, she would call it blessed.

And maybe that was what it was called. But if he was blest with such a great family, he had no idea what he had ever done to deserve them. If there was a God, as Janet believed, and if He was in control of the show, then He apparently just handed out great lives to undeserving people.

Anthony didn’t get it. He’d take it, but he sure didn’t get it.

He had made mistakes in the past, and any sufficient God would not have rewarded him with such an amazing family and a great life.

So even if there was a God, He seemed to be sort of lenient.

Then Anthony smirked. Now that is a God I could get behind.

CHAPTER 3

At exactly 6:30 on Monday morning, Anthony and Becky exchanged their normal quick and hasty good-bye kiss.

He sprinted out the front door—and was soon behind the wheel of his Porsche—headed for work.

It was odd, but the car felt different than it had on the way home from the ballgame yesterday. No longer filled with the joy and promise of happy days ahead for him and his family, now the vehicle was nothing more than the set of wheels designed to carry him to his office.

Anthony always showed up early to knock out responses to weekend e-mails so he could get them out of the way and dig into his real morning work.

The Monday after taking Ben to the ballgame was no different.

He liked his job and got an almost excessive amount of fulfillment out of it. The plush office, the perks, and prestige of finally becoming senior partner were gratifying. But he knew without a doubt his workaholic tendencies were turning him into a