Chapter 55
OZZIE
At quitting time, Slim stood by Ozzie’s locker. Ozzie had already punched out and was planning to head to the hospital to spend time with Rita and Maceo before visiting hours were over.
“I hear congratulations are in order.”
Ozzie flashed his teeth. “She had a boy.”
Slim clapped him on the back. “Let’s head over to Wally’s for a drink and a cigar. We gotta celebrate you, man,” he said, loudly enough for a few of their drinking buddies to hear.
Ozzie opened his mouth, but then he heard: Don’t pick up that first drink.
He bit back that itch in his throat. “I can’t. Visiting hours will be over soon. Another time,” he said, and then put one foot in front of the other until he was nearly running out the door.
When he arrived at Mercy-Douglass Hospital, he went straight to the nursery. He stood at the big window looking at all the infants in hues of brown, resting in identical wicker bassinets. He spotted Maceo right away, swaddled in a blanket with a blue knit hat on his head.
“Which one is yours?”
Ozzie turned. It was Joe, the man he had met in the waiting room.
“Second row on the left.”
“Cute little fellow.” Joe pressed his hand against the glass. “That’s our baby girl next to him on the right.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thanks, man.” They stood in silence, and then Joe asked, “So, how did you do?”
Ozzie knew what Joe meant, and even though they had known each other only a day, he already felt like he could trust the man. “I didn’t pick up the first drink, like you said. Even though I couldn’t sleep. I sweated all night and vomited twice before work.”
“That’s your body trying to detox itself. It’ll get better. Remember the meeting I mentioned?”
Ozzie nodded.
“Why don’t you come with me tonight. It starts at eight, and it’s right here in the hospital. All we have to do is take the elevator down to the bottom floor.”
“I don’t think I need to do all of that.”
Joe turned to face him. “Do you want to live or die?”
“What?”
“It’s a simple question. To come with me tonight to the meeting is to live. To keep trying to do it by yourself is to die. What’s it gonna be?”
Ozzie looked back at Maceo, who had started to fuss, and remembered his promise not to let this second chance at fatherhood slip away.
He thought about all the ways in which he had failed Rita in their marriage.
He wanted to be better for them and show up for Maceo in all the ways he couldn’t for Katja.
“Okay.”
“What room is your wife in?”
Ozzie told him.
“I’ll meet you right in front at ten to eight.”
The meeting was held in a drafty room with no windows in the basement of the hospital.
Ozzie could hear the pipes hiss and rattle, and he smelled coffee and cigarette smoke.
There were folding chairs set up in a circle, and the room buzzed with boisterous voices and deep laughter.
On a plastic card table sat an assortment of cookies, Dixie cups, sugar cubes, and a pot of coffee.
Ozzie watched the men greet one another with such pleasantry that it felt like he had entered a family reunion.
How were these men supposed to help him control his drinking?
“This here is Ozzie,” Joe introduced him around the room, and the men greeted Ozzie with the same enthusiasm.
Then someone rang a hand bell, and they all moved toward seats.
“Let’s have us a meeting,” said a husky man with gray hair at his temples. He introduced himself as Earl. “We have a new fella with us tonight. So why don’t we talk about what it was like for us in the beginning.”
One by one, the men in the room begin to share their stories.
“Every morning when I woke up, I asked God why the hell was I still here. My family didn’t want me around. I was a disgrace.”
“Doctor diagnosed me with liver disease, but even the threat of death didn’t stop me from picking up.”
“Alcohol was my best friend. I didn’t know how I would function without it. I mean, how do you go to a party—hell, watch the fight on a Saturday night—without a drink?”
“It wasn’t until I came in here with you men and learned that I have a disease, that I couldn’t control my drinking… then I understood I had to stop completely.”
Each share was more honest than the next. For close to an hour, Ozzie listened; they were all telling pieces of his story.
“Thank you for your vulnerability, gentlemen,” Earl said.
“In the early days, Sister Ignatia of the Sisters of Charity of St. Augustine would give her alcoholic patients a medallion. She asked only that before that person took a drink, they return the medallion. Is there anyone here who wants a medallion?”
Joe nudged Ozzie. “You should take one.”
“But I’m scared,” Ozzie said. “What if I can’t do it?”
“I’ll go through it with you.” Joe stood.
Ozzie rose on shaky knees and followed Joe up to the front of the room, where Earl placed the medallion in Ozzie’s palm. It was cool to the touch but weighty at the same time.
“Welcome home.” Earl gave him a hug, and Ozzie had to tamp down the emotions that threatened to show on his face.
Rita and Maceo stayed at Mercy-Douglass for seven nights, and each evening when visiting hours ended, Joe and Earl were waiting for Ozzie outside of her hospital room.
The first time Ozzie saw them waiting, he was surprised and asked what they wanted.
“A sheep can’t get lost if he is in the middle of his herd,” Earl answered matter-of-factly.
The official meetings were held on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday evenings.
On the other nights, Joe and Earl met Ozzie down in the hospital cafeteria, where they took turns reading to him from the literature that governed their program of recovery.
Each night before he left for home, Joe would say, “Pray to God to keep you sober. Meet me back here tomorrow night at seven-fifty.”
Although his work buddies peppered him with pleas to go to Wally’s, Ozzie resisted. On his eighth day sober, Ozzie pulled the Chrysler Windsor up through the circular driveway and gave Rita’s name to the front-desk clerk. It was twenty-eight degrees and breezy, so he kept the car warm and running.
When the same nurse who had been on duty the night Maceo was born wheeled Rita with Maceo in her arms out to his car, Ozzie stood tall with pride at the sight of his family.
Rita was draped in a tan wool coat, and the white turban that covered her hair made her look regal. Maceo was bundled in a snowsuit.
“Baby, you two okay?” he asked.
“Ready to get home and sleep in my own bed.” Rita smiled and handed the baby to the nurse. Ozzie scooped Rita up in his arms and carried her the few feet to the front seat of the car.
“You know I can walk.”
“Not on my watch.” He kissed her cheek, lowered her into the front seat, and then moved aside so the nurse could place Maceo in Rita’s arms.
When Ozzie rounded the car, the nurse touched his arm and said, “Joe told me to tell you that he’ll see you tonight, seven-fifty.”
“I’ll be there.”
Rita had been given strict orders to avoid steps in her first week at home, so Ozzie lifted her up the stairs and into their back bedroom.
He had already put together a wooden cradle, and Great-aunt Reese had dressed it with a heap of blankets.
Once Rita and Maceo were propped up with pillows, Maceo started to kick his legs and fuss.
“You hungry?” Rita cooed, and Ozzie sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Rita removed her enlarged breast and pressed it against Maceo’s face. The miracle of a woman’s body never ceased to amaze him.
“Will you be okay for a little while? I need to run back to the hospital for my meeting.” Ozzie had briefed Rita on his acquaintance with Joe and their fellowship in the basement.
“Sure, long as that’s all you’re leaving here to do?” Her eyes went dark. Ozzie knew that Rita had every right not to trust him.
“That’s it.” He moved to kiss her on her forehead, but he wouldn’t make her another promise with his words. Now he had to show her with his actions.
At six months sober, Ozzie’s head was clear, and he had the energy of a teenager. Rita had stopped questioning his intentions when he left the house for his nightly meeting, and she had started nudging him to resume their quest to obtain a mortgage from the bank.
“Sweet Maceo has sucked up the breathing space in this back bedroom. There is no place to move,” she complained with the baby on her hip.
On his lunch breaks, Ozzie made his rounds to the banks again. He filled out another stack of paperwork and pleaded his case to the tellers.
In the seventh month, Joe told Ozzie that it was time for him to sift through the wrongdoings of his past. Ozzie made an inventory list, and Joe listened to him with patience. When he finished, Ozzie walked lighter, like he had shed ten pounds of guilt, secrets, and pain.
Now they were preparing for Maceo’s first birthday party, and he and Rita were blowing up balloons. The fragrance of the chocolate cake that Rita had set on the rack to cool wafted into the living room, making him hungry. But he was too nervous to eat.
Paper streamers were draped across the wall, and a big “Happy 1st Birthday” sign was taped to the living room wall. The party wasn’t scheduled to start for a few hours, and to give them time to prepare, Great-aunt Reese had taken Maceo with her to church for a morning social hour.
Ozzie’s hands sweated, and his mouth was dry. “Rita, I need to talk to you.”
A flicker of worry flashed through her eyes as he joined her on the sofa.
“I want to make an amends to you.”
Her face relaxed. “I don’t need any more apologies. You’ve been doing fine by me, baby.” She put the balloon to her lips and blew.
“It’s not that.” He took a deep breath. Ozzie had already practiced what he was going to say to his wife with Joe, but somehow the words seemed to have vanished from his mind.
Rita tied off the balloon. “Well, what is it? Are you sick?”
“When I was in Germany. I was in a relationship.” The nerves had given him a stomachache, but he pressed on. “From this union. A child was born.”
Rita sat as still as a statue. “Are you saying you have a child?”
“Her name is Katja. This past September, she turned five. I haven’t seen her since she was fifteen months old.” Ozzie looked at the floor. “Over the years, I’ve sent money each month to the last place her mother worked. But I’ve never received a single reply.”
Rita finally turned her body toward him. Her skin was ashen, and her eyes scanned his face, bewildered. “You’ve been holding this in all this time? How come you didn’t tell me this before now? Does your mama know?”
“I didn’t tell anyone.”
“Why? Oz.”
“Because I left her in Germany. I didn’t mean to, but I did, and I was ashamed. Being an absent father made me feel like Big Otis, and I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”
Rita reeled in her seat. “Ozzie, that secret has been eating at you. Tearing you down for years. My God. A daughter?”
They sat in silence, then Rita stood and went into the kitchen. Ozzie knew from experience that it was best not to follow her. He heard pots and pans banging around in the sink. After what felt like an eternity, she walked into the living room and sat back down next to him.
“I wish you would have told me from the start. I can’t say that I truly understand your reasons for keeping something so big bottled up inside for all this time. But what’s done is done. If Maceo has a sister out there somewhere, then I will help you find her. What’s yours is mine.”
A sigh from deep in his belly escaped his lips. Rita was still by his side. Confessing his deepest secret to his wife had cracked a hole in him. A hole that he could already feel filling him with peace.
“Thank you.” He squeezed her hands.
“Look, I can’t sit here and play Little Miss Innocent. I had some relationships and situations while you were gone.”
He looked at her, but she waved her comment away.
“We won’t get into all that now. But these moments of honesty are a step in the right direction for us. I don’t know what’s happening in those meetings you go to each night, but they’re working.”
“Thanks for being okay with this,” he said.
She looked into his eyes, her expression still baffled. “I’ll talk to Sadie on Monday and see if she has any resources we can use to help find her.”
Ozzie tipped Rita’s chin toward him and kissed her.
In that moment he felt lucky. He had his wife and son; Rita knew the secret of Katja and didn’t hate him because of it.
On Monday, he would celebrate one year of sobriety.
In two weeks, he would finally begin his first semester at Lincoln University, albeit part-time. It was a start.