Chapter 50
OZZIE
Ozzie whistled to himself while he stood waiting his turn to punch the quitting clock at work.
His stomach growled, and he wondered if Penn would offer snacks tonight at Rita’s awards ceremony.
Maybe he’d splurge for the occasion and take Rita over to Niecy’s Rib Shack for a celebratory dinner.
Rita would like that, he thought. He’d even buy a few roses from the flower cart on Broad Street to show her how proud he was of her.
In the employee locker room, he unlatched his locker, and just as he reached for his stingy-brim hat, he heard “Sure Shot, that you?”
Only guys from South Philly called him Sure Shot. Ozzie spun around and saw Slim, a fellow from around the way.
“Brother man.” Ozzie clapped Slim’s hand. “When’d you start working here?”
“About a week ago.” Slim was over six feet tall, with a thin frame and small eyes.
“Which department?”
“I’m over in receiving and maintenance.”
“That’s where I started too,” Ozzie said. “Now I’m over in material control, we supervise the deliveries and distributions. It’s a slight upgrade.”
“That’s good to know. ’Cause hauling this heavy shit is for the birds.” Slim fitted a porkpie hat on his head. “Whatcha doing tonight?”
“Got plans with the Mrs.” Ozzie closed his locker.
“Well, it’s my birthday.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Thanks, man. You remember Bill and Tiny who lived over on Wilder Street?”
“They work here too?”
Slim nodded. “Think you could at least stop in at Wally’s and say hello?”
Ozzie looked down at his watch. He had sworn off Wally’s, the beer garden around the corner, but he hadn’t seen those guys in years.
He could spare a nickel for a Coca-Cola and thirty minutes for a quick hello.
If anyone asked why he wasn’t drinking, he’d say he was recovering from an infection and on strong antibiotics.
“Lead the way.”
Three hours later, five men were crowded around a square table meant for four.
Slim, who had always been the class clown in high school, told stories of his time in the marines, and Ozzie laughed so hard that his sides hurt.
The dark bar smelled of wood chips and cigars.
The jukebox was loud, and the barmaid, in a black dress with a plunging neckline, stood balancing a tray on one hand.
“Five Canadian Clubs,” she said, placing the fresh rocks glasses in front of them and quickly picking up the used ones.
Ozzie had meant to refuse the next round. He needed to get to Rita, but then Bill pushed the glass toward him and stood with a toast.
“Raise your glasses to Slim,” Bill slurred. “May all your dreams come true tonight and every night.”
“Hear, hear.” The men raised their glasses, and the brown liquor slid down Ozzie’s throat in one gulp.
The guilt of having picked up those first few drinks had eased its way into the back of his subconscious. Now all he felt was loose. Then he thought, Rita’s ceremony. He looked down at his watch. Where had the time gone?
“I gotta head on out.” He swayed when he stood, and grabbed the table for balance.
“Sure Shot, thanks for coming.” Slim stood and gave him five.
When Ozzie turned his key in the front door, he could hear Hancock’s Half Hour playing from the radio, which meant it was somewhere in the ten o’clock hour.
Rita was sitting on the Queen Anne camelback sofa in her nightgown with her hair tied up in pink curlers.
The lamp on the end table gave off a soft glow.
“Well, at least you aren’t dead,” she said.
He dropped his keys on the end table. “Why would I be dead?”
“It’s the only reason I could come up with to justify you missing my awards ceremony. Because I’m such a fool for you, I couldn’t allow myself to believe the truth.” She blew air through her nose.
“Baby, I’m sorry. It’s not what it looks like.”
Rita pushed up from the sofa and marched over to where he stood just beyond the front door.
She grabbed him by the collar, sniffed his neck and mouth, and then sucked her teeth.
“It’s exactly what it looks like. You’re drunk.
It’s a freaking Monday night, for Christ’s sake.
And I reminded you over and over again about the ceremony. ”
“I’m sorry.”
“Do you know I was the only Negro in the whole entire auditorium? Up there onstage, I could barely concentrate on what was supposed to be a joyous moment because I kept looking for you to walk through the damn doors.”
He shifted on his feet, hating that he had ruined her big night. “Let me explain.”
“You’re full of shit, you know that?” Rita’s eyes blazed red. He parted his lips to speak, but she held up her hand to silence him.
“I’m pregnant.”
The temperature in the room dropped. “What?”
Rita stared at him pointedly.
“I thought you wanted to wait until after law school.”
“Yeah, well, this baby had other plans. And I can’t bring our child into the world with you drinking like a fish and not showing up for your responsibilities.”
A baby with Rita. Ozzie stood in shock.
“You’ve been hiding liquor and lying about our two-drink agreement.” She reached under the coffee table and set two empty whiskey bottles down with a thud. She had found his secret stash. His stomach turned sour.
“Those bottles are from before.”
“First you embarrass me at the Alexanders’, then you shame me by being late with the rent, and now you’ve humiliated me in front of my entire law school cohort by standing me up.”
“Rita, I ran into an old friend, it was his—”
“You aren’t the man I married,” she shouted, and those words were like poison-tipped arrows through his heart.
“Baby.”
“Don’t you ‘baby’ me, Oz. I can’t go to law school and take care of our child and your drunk ass too. If you don’t get it together…” Her bottom lip quivered.
“It won’t happen again.” He reached for her waist, but she pushed him away and then pounded up the stairs.
Ozzie knew the doghouse drill and made his way down to the basement.
What was he thinking, stopping into Wally’s?
He should have known that once he started drinking with those guys, it would be hard to leave.
Rita was having his baby. How would he shoulder more responsibility when he was struggling to take care of them now?
His heart raced as the worry of it all consumed him, but then he thought of Katja, and his breathing slowed.
She would turn five in the fall, and if she were with him, she’d be starting kindergarten.
He wondered how tall she was now and what toy she loved best. Did she still have the Philips nose, or had her features changed?
Then, like a tidal wave, the U-turn that his life had taken the moment he’d left Germany without her pulled him under.
The booze had worn off, and in marched the pain.
He had screwed over so many moments in his life that he was beginning to think this was just who he was now.
Long gone was the young, optimistic fellow who volunteered for the army with the goal to work in Intelligence and show America what the Negro man could do.
Rita’s voice echoed in his ears, You aren’t the man I married, and shame wrapped around him like a second skin.
Even in the dimly lit basement, he could see his hands twitching.
Withdrawal. The alcohol was doing a number on him, and he had no idea how to make it stop.
Ozzie had gotten so far away from the man he had set out to be, he no longer knew how to find his way back.