“A Social Club It Ain’t…” cont from page 1...

The blue ball bounced once then twice then took out as many pins as it could reach. Screams erupted from both teams. Eight pins went down without argument. Two were defiant. An eight-ten split.

“Sorry Vic. Tough break. Let’s go,” said Kim. Their gear was packed and they were needed back out on the street.

“Wait, I can’t go. I can make that shot.”

“Excuse me,” said Alex. “You can barely stand, Vic. Our deal was one roll. You had it and left the eight ten. Tough split.”

“The trophy comes home to us. Sweet revenge. A dish best served before the crow you have to eat, Vic.”

Vic shook free of the paramedics. “Hold your water, Ravello. I’ve got one more roll.”

Kim decided enough as enough. As senior paramedic, it was her call as to whether they would let him stall them any longer.

“I’m sorry Vic. You need to get that looked at.”

“I’m not going and you two girls can’t make me,” said the patient.

A familiar voice filled the air. “Hey, what’s going on here?” It was NYPD Officer Faith Yokas. “Hi Kim, Alex. Bosco and I saw your bus outside and thought you might need a hand.”

“That’s nice Faith. Thank you.”

“Plus Bosco wanted some cheeseburgers and fries. What’s going on? Hey Vic? How goes the tournament?”

Vic hopped over to Faith Yokas. “It’s in the commode because of your bum of a husband. He was a no show, Faith. So we’re playing with a handicap. Now that I got a bad ankle we’ll have to forfeit because I can’t pick up the eight ten split.”

Faith put her hands up for some sense of calm. “What do you mean Fred was a no show? He told me he was dropping the kids off at the sitter’s and then coming down here. You mean he isn’t here?”

“Does he look like he is here? For a cop, you’re awful dumb Faith.”

Bosco, the hungry partner arrived. “Yo, keep a civil tongue in your head about my partner or I’ll replace that tongue with my fist.”

“You’ll have to put the fries down first, Bosco,” said Faith. “Kim, if you and Alex are all right we’ll take off to see if my kids are okay.”

“Sure, go. We’ve got it covered.”

Vic grabbed at Faith Yokas’ arm. Bosco slapped it away. “Keep your hands to home Vic.”

“Faith, you’ve got to help me. I need you to roll that last ball for me. Pick up that split. You owe me that much. When your significant other didn’t show we had to get a fill in and he took sick. All you have to do is roll one ball.”

“I haven’t done any bowling since the company picnic with those plastic pins that were filled with water.”

“True, but you were great. Please Faith. For me, for the team.” One of the opposition cried foul. “Look at the roster pal. Here name is on it. She hasn’t bowled but we just needed to have ten names on the roster to get in the league. She is a legal bowler.”

Faith looked at Bosco. “We’ve got to get back on patrol.”

Alex sighed the sigh of the frustrated and stepped over to the police officers. “We’ve been here far too long, Faith. Throw the darn ball. Then Hopalong will go with us to get his ankle looked at. Do it for us.”

No other option seemed to be available. Alex handed her the blue bowling ball. She gave Bosco her cap and approached the line. It was hard to bowl with a Glock 9 mm on your right hip. All she had to do was keep it out of the gutter.

A deep breath came and went and Faith Yokas sent the ball down the waxed alley.

“Does it always get that emotional around here?” said Fred Yokas to the man he was helping put away the folding chairs in rows of six leaning against the far wall.

“Yes, and no. You have to remember most everyone here has lost someone in 9/11.”

“Most everyone?”

“Some are here because their spouses or mates, or that devil of a term significant other still works at the firehouse or the police station or the Port Authority. They have survivor guilt because their spouse made it out and others didn’t. It’s almost like they can’t enjoy what God has deigned to give them because others are suffering.”

Fred looked at the man in the Yankees’ sweatshirt as if he had just taken the words right out of his mouth. The man nodded.

“It seems to me that you are one such person.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. I didn’t even tell my wife I was coming here tonight. She expects me to be the strong one. But she’s a police officer. A good one. Yet every time she goes out the door, I think ‘what if this is the last time I see her?’ And I can’t tell her that.”

“Why not?” the man was now on to washing out the pitchers that held the lemonade. “It seems to me that she has entrusted you with her love. And can we assume that you love her?”

“Yeah, I’ve never stopped loving her.”

“Then trust her enough to share your vulnerabilities with her. She’ll either make light of it which means that she wants to protect you or…”

“Or what?” said Fred, almost fearing the answer.

“Or she will share her fear with you and God will help you find strength in that sharing.” Fred Yokas thought about this advice for a few moments. Beverly came back. “Father, will you lock up for me?”

“Father?”

“Yes, Fred, I’m Father Barnaby. But don’t think my advice was based solely from my Bing Crosby book of the priesthood. I lost a brother to 9/11. He was a paramedic.”

It was close to eleven PM but Fred Yokas saw the sun shine for the first time since last September.

The blue bowling ball with the flames on the sides seemed to be in slow motion as it headed down the lane towards the two AMF white pins with the red rings around their necks. Soon the eternity passed and the ball tickled the outside of the eight-pin and kicked it over to slap the ten-pin as it went by.

The alley erupted. Hugs all around. Vic got on the stretcher and Alex and Kim headed off to the hospital. Faith got her picture taken with the trophy as Bosco finished two large orders of fries.

The apartment was dark when Fred Yokas returned after midnight. Traffic had been backed up in downtown because the president had been here making another speech raising another couple of million dollars for his re-election. He closed the door after him and just locked the bottom lock as Faith would be coming home soon and she would click the dead bolt over.

“Where have you been Fred?” said Faith. It startled her husband. Was it later than he had thought? “Fred? Where have you been and don’t say that you were bowling because I was there and Vic’s pretty steamed at you for not showing up.”

Slowly, Fred went about his routine placing his keys in the dish by the door, hanging up his coat, and getting a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Faith had already changed and was wearing her sleep shirt and slipper socks that he had given her last Christmas.

“Fred Yokas, have you been out drinking again?”

“No. In fact, I went to a meeting.”

This stunned his wife. Yes, he attended AA meetings but his schedule of attendance was so regular that for him to go extra was a sure sign that something was seriously wrong for Fred.

“Oh honey I’m sorry. What’s wrong? Did you get fired? Whatever it is we can get through it.”

He brushed past her and headed back for the living room and planted himself on the couch. Fred was angry that her opinion of him always went to the chance that he might screw up enough to hurt the family.

“No Faith, I didn’t get fired. And I’m not drinking again and my health is okay, at least it will be when I can start eating cheeseburgers again.”

“Fred, you know what the doctor said about cheeseburgers clogging up your arteries. You and Bosco won’t ever learn.”

“Bosco, Boscorelli, Maurice Boscorelli. Can’t we ever have a conversation that doesn’t have his name mentioned?”

”Why are you being so hostile? What happened, Fred? I know the kids are okay because I picked them up from the sitter’s. So what is it Fred?” The unthinkable passed through her consciousness. “Fred, Fred, is there another woman?”

He looked at his wife of more than ten years and hoped she saw the sorrow in his eyes that she could even think that. A big gulp of bottled water that tasted just like, well, water allowed him to gather his thoughts.

“No Faith. It’s not another woman. The problem is you.”

Faith Yokas was a trained New York City police officer but she wasn’t sure she was prepared to hear what Fred was about to tell her.

“All right Fred, what did I do that has you so upset?”

He looked her square in the eye and tried to keep from crying, from breaking down. “You lived Faith. You lived through 9/11 and now each time you go out that door I really don’t know if you’ll ever be back.”

The talk with Father Barnaby was recounted. The bond between the young couple was welded ever tighter. They hugged their solidarity until dawn when an urgent banging came on the door.

“Yokas, come on. It’s Bosco. You want a ride to work or what?” said her partner. He knocked again.

Inside, Fred lifted his head from her shoulder and said, “It’s Bosco.”

“I know,” said Faith and then the two burst out laughing like little school kids on the playground.

“Hey Yokas, don’t be in there laughing about good old Boscorelli standing in the hallway wasting his time.”

The knocking continued with a vengeance. The laughter got louder.

The End