“I’m fine, Mom,” he answered unconvincingly. “How are you?”
“I am good, Jack. I was just thinking about you tonight, and hoping you would change your mind and come up for Christmas.”
“I can’t, Mom,” Jack lied. “I have a lot of work to do around here,” he said, knowing he had taken the next week off.
“Okay, I understand,” Jack heard his mother tread delicately. “But, let me know if you change your mind, and I will get your room ready for you.”
“I will do that, Mom,” he replied, knowing that he wouldn’t. “What do you have planned for the holiday?”
“I am going to Michael’s for the day.”
“That’s good,” he said, glad that his mother wasn’t going to spend the holiday alone. “Have a good time, and try to enjoy your grandchildren.”
“I will, Jack,” she replied carefully. “And, try to enjoy your day as well. I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom,” he said as he hung up.
As he put the phone down, Jack thought about his mother and all of her problems. Anxiety, depression, compulsion, an inability to really connect emotionally with her children or grandchildren, all masked by her continuing hoarding behavior. She had done well for a little while after his week-long visit and rehabilitation two years earlier, but had inevitably returned to this disturbing behavior. It was a frustrating situation, something that Jack had not had the time or patience to deal with during the past year.
His thoughts were interrupted by the phone ringing once again. “What does she want now,” he said to himself as he grabbed the phone and answered abruptly. “What’s up, Mom.”
“Hi, Jack. It’s me, Delaney.”
Jack was stunned and immediately sobered up as he realized he hadn’t spoken with Delaney in nearly a year. “Hi, honey, is everything okay?”
“I’m okay, Jack. How are you,” she replied softly as Jack imagined her hiding in her room with her phone.
“I’m good, Delaney,” he lied once again. “Merry Christmas. What are you and Bailey doing tomorrow,” he asked and immediately regretted it.
“We are having Christmas morning with Daddy and Wendy, and then he is going to drop us off at Grandma’s for dinner.”
“That sounds like fun, Delaney. I hope you have a great day.”
“Jack,” he heard her voice break and a pause on the line as he immediately knew she was crying. “I miss her.”
Jack didn’t know what to say and definitely wasn’t prepared for this conversation. What do you say to a thirteen year old girl missing her mother on Christmas Eve? He quickly decided it was best that he tried to be strong and not cry himself.
“I miss her too, honey. But, I want you to know that she is always looking down over you and Bailey and will always protect you. You and Bailey meant more to her than anything in the world, and I know she will always be with you.”
“I know, Jack, but I need her here now,” she cried.
“I’m so sorry, Delaney,” Jack tried to fight back the tears. “I would do anything to bring her back, but I can’t. But, I know she would want you and Bailey to be happy, especially on Christmas. So, I need both of you to try and be happy for Mommy because I know that is what she would have wanted. Do you understand?”
“I do, Jack,” she replied slowly. “You know, Mommy would have wanted you to be happy as well.”
Again, Jack was speechless. He had always been amazed at Delaney’s maturity level over the years, and now he realized she was thirteen going on thirty, so he tried to come up with the proper words to say to both a child and a young woman.
“I know, honey, but it’s not that simple,” he paused, having no idea what to say.
“Jack,” Delaney interrupted his struggle to find the right words, “It’s not your fault.”
Delaney’s words struck a chord in the pit of Jack’s stomach, and he quickly ran that tragic night through his head for what seemed like the millionth time. Why didn’t he go to her house? Couldn’t he have taken the night off from work? Why had he been so selfish?
“I know, Delaney,” he said, even though he still blamed himself. “I’ll tell you what. I am going to do my best to be happy if you promise that you and Bailey will do the same. Do we have a deal,” he asked hopefully.
“It’s a deal. One second, Jack.”
He heard the phone muffle, and then barely overheard Delaney shouting to her Dad that she would be there in minute.
“Jack, I have to go,” she said hurriedly. “I love you.”
“I love you too, Delaney. I will talk to you soon.”
And with that, she was gone.
As he hung up the phone, Jack immediately understood the significance of Delaney’s call. He knew that she had called against the wishes of her father, not out of concern for herself, but rather, to make sure he was okay. He smiled as he thought of how much she reminded him of her mother, and at the way he could almost hear Brittany’s voice as he spoke to Delaney. But, at the same time, it hurt even more to think about her and Bailey growing up without her.
How could God have taken her away from them? Were they ever going to be the same again? Why hadn’t he stopped her from driving on that terrible night?
As he poured his drink down the faucet, Jack realized that he needed to stop feeling sorry for himself, and he knew he would not break the deal he had made with Delaney.
It was time for him to move forward with his life, no matter how difficult that was going to be.
* * *
Amanda opened the door of her studio apartment near midnight on Christmas Eve, exhausted from having worked a double shift that day at the casino. As she kicked off her shoes and threw her keys on the desk, she was relieved that at least school was on break and she wouldn’t have to stay up a couple more hours trying to catch up on her work.
Her apartment was truly a mess, and she added a good cleanup to her mental to do list as she collapsed on the couch. Maybe she could get that done tomorrow, she thought to herself, knowing she wasn’t scheduled to be at work until 6:00.
Feeling a little bit guilty about her lack of holiday plans, Amanda suddenly had second thoughts over not having accepted her best friend’s invitation to spend Christmas with her family. Sue was just trying to be nice, knowing that Amanda didn’t have anyone to spend the holiday with after her recent breakup with Jim. Maybe it would be good for her to spend some time with other people on the holiday, she thought to herself as she imagined Jim spending Christmas with his family, his new girlfriend by his side worshipping his every lie.
But, she quickly put those thoughts aside. Amanda didn’t want to be that poor girl who didn’t have a family or a boyfriend and needed to be taken in. She didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for her. No, that definitely wasn’t Amanda.
She had never needed to be taken in, she thought as she picked up the remote and turned on the TV. Amanda had been on her own since just after she turned sixteen, and all things taken into consideration, had done pretty well for herself. She had worked her way through college, her Master’s degree, and now was just a few months from completing her Doctorate.
It had not been easy though, and the struggle to survive had taken it’s toll. After her mother lost her job and began abusing drugs, Amanda had started cocktail waitressing, lucky enough to find a job that paid cash under the table and believed her when she said she was eighteen. The bar was a dive just off the boardwalk strip in downtown Atlantic City, and looking back, Amanda realized she had been fortunate to survive the two years she had worked there.
The customers were an assortment of down on their luck gamblers, alcoholics, and drug addicts who somehow kept coming up with enough money to continue paying their bar bill, aided by cheap two for one watered down happy hour specials and monthly social security and disability checks. Amanda learned to plaster on a smile while ignoring their advances and slapping away an occasional misplaced hand. She always wondered to herself if these men would have behaved this way
if they knew she was underaged, but after ten years in the hospitality business, she now realized knowing this would have only made her more attractive to them.
But the money was good, and it allowed Amanda to continue paying the rent and other living expenses while still attending school and trying to help her mother, who had escalated into a full blown drug addict. It had been hard to watch her mother deteriorate over the years, and even harder during the times when she finally returned home and Amanda attempted to perform a home-made detox and rehabilitation program, only to fail time and time again.
“I promised not to think about this tonight,” Amanda scolded herself as she turned off the TV and stood up to stretch her back, knowing it was going to be impossible to keep that promise.
As she walked into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine, Amanda thought about the last time she has seen her mother. It had actually been Christmas Eve two years earlier, she remembered as she pulled the cork out of the bottle, part of her mother’s seemingly annual holiday rehab program.
The routine was always the same, and would begin with her mother showing up the week before Christmas and telling Amanda how much she loved her and how this was the year she was going to change. For some reason, Amanda always believed her, and the detox would begin complete with the mood swings, shakes, and non-stop vomiting. Everything would be on schedule for a couple days, but inevitably, Amanda would return home from work one night to find her apartment ransacked for anything that could be pawned and her mother long gone.
Two years ago had been no different, except for the first time, her mother had almost made it to Christmas and nearly completed the program. Amanda now realized she had made the extra effort because she somehow knew that it had been her last chance. Looking back, Amanda recalled thinking how badly her mother had aged, a once beautiful woman who at forty-seven appeared ten years older, no longer able to hide the effects of chronic drug use and life on the streets.
Having seen this, Amanda hadn’t really been surprised when her mother didn’t shown up the year before and definitely hadn’t expected her this year. In all honesty, Amanda was somewhat relieved not to have the burden of caring for her. Why should she care, she asked herself. Her mother had never been a good mother, and Amanda had essentially been raised by her grandmother, a wonderful, caring woman who unfortunately overlooked and enabled her only child’s narcissism and self-centeredness until the day she died of cancer when Amanda was twelve.
What did it matter that she didn’t know where her mother was or whether she was alive or dead? She didn’t even care enough about Amanda to pick up the phone and call.
“I am not going to think about this,” Amanda said to herself one more time with conviction as she picked up the bottle of wine along with her glass and headed back to the couch.
I am a survivor, she thought to herself, able to make it on the streets of Atlantic City. Nothing is going to stop me, and in just a few more months, I will leave this crappy town and never look back, and then I will be happy.
But, as she poured herself another glass of wine, Amanda could no longer hide how unhappy she was. And, although she tried so hard not to, soon she was crying, until finally, she fell asleep.
Chapter Two
So far, so good, Jack thought to himself as darkness fell on Atlantic City and he steered his rental car towards the main entrance of the casino.
Despite having traveled extensively, Jack still marveled at the experience of waking up to eighty degree weather in one end of the country and eight hours later finding himself in freezing weather in a entirely different locale. It had been a good idea for him to get out of Florida for a few days to clear his mind, and Jack was pleased that the trip had been smooth and stress free, surprisingly easy travel for Christmas Day.
He had finally settled on Atlantic City after considering flying into Philadelphia and spending the holiday with his family before deciding it might be best to clear his mind with a night of poker before driving to the city in the morning. This is just what I need, Jack thought, I haven’t been able to play poker in a long time and it will be nice to relax and enjoy a nice game and maybe have dinner afterward.
“I can definitely do this,” Jack gave himself a pep talk as he pulled up to valet parking and double checked to make sure he had everything before getting out of the car. He tried to remember the last time he had played poker as he walked around to the trunk to retrieve his bag and tip the valet. It used to be a game he loved to play a couple times a week, but in the last year, he had hardly played at all, stymied by his inability to concentrate and focus, and he couldn’t recall the last time he had played.
Play premium hands, stay aggressive, make the correct play, he thought to himself as he traversed the escalator to the hotel check in area. The game had always been second nature to him, a profitable second income, why should anything be different now. He more than understood the math, pot odds, implied odds, fold equity, all the concepts the average player really had no grasp of. The game would be easy to beat as long as he could focus.
Was he finally going to be able to do that?
Unfortunately, his track record on this matter wasn’t good, and the last year had seen him at this point many times, determined to move on with his life and get past that night he couldn’t forget. It seemed he would always move in the right direction for a day or two before something or somebody would remind him of her, and he would fall back into his depression and lose the ability to focus and concentrate.
Jack was even surprised he had been able to hold onto his job. He had just been going through the motions for the past year, but thankfully, the owner of the resort was sympathetic to Jack’s situation and mindful of his past performance. He had overlooked his lapses in concentration and recent mediocrity, and while Jack was grateful for his loyalty, generosity, and friendship, at the same time, he didn’t want or expect it to last much longer.
Stay focused, Jack, he thought to himself as he approached the check in desk and was greeted by an attractive blond-haired hotel clerk.
“Welcome to the Borgata, what name is your reservation under,” she smiled on cue.
“It’s under Anderson, I would prefer the Water Tower if it is available,” Jack returned her smile.
“No problem, Mr. Anderson, and how long do you plan on staying with us.”
“Just for the night.”
“You are all set, Mr. Anderson. You are in room 1512, enjoy the holiday and your stay at the Borgata,” she smiled as Jack appreciated her professionalism and checked her name tag out of habit.
“Thank you, Pamela, have a great holiday as well,” he smiled.
Buoyed by his short conversation with Pamela, Jack regained his confidence as he made the short walk to the elevator that would take him to him room. This is going to be easy, he decided as he pushed the up button on the wall.
“I can do this,” he whispered to himself as entered the elevator.
* * *
Unlike most of the other poker dealers, Amanda was happy to be working on Christmas. The tips were generally a lot better, and she really didn’t have anything to do or anyone to be with during the holidays. With this in mind, she had picked up shifts every day during the week between Christmas and the New Year, and hoped Christmas would be particularly good as everyone was still feeling the holiday spirit.
Working so much also helped her not to think about her recent breakup with Jim. As she sat at the break table in the high limit section waiting for the game to be called, Amanda wondered if she was ever going to learn her lesson. It seemed like men were only really interested in her for one thing, and once things got a little serious, they were out the door.
Why would Jim be any different then all the other men she had dated in her twenty six years? Sure, she had made some mistakes when she was younger, dating guys she had met at her job as a cocktail waitress, guys she knew were trouble. But, she had learned from her mistakes and now no longer dated anyone she met at the
casino. Not floor managers, not other dealers, and definitely not customers.
Looking back, Jim had seemed like a breath of fresh air when she had met him a year earlier at the university. She had been working on her Doctorate in Substance Abuse Counseling and he was an Associate Professor in the Psychology Department, and they started dating soon after they met. Everything was pretty good for the first six months, and Amanda thought she had finally found a man with whom she could have a stable relationship. Jim was everything she wanted, smart, ambitious, and able to accomplish anything he set his mind on. He was also incredibly good looking, but seemingly not so aware of it as the other men she had dated.
But, the honeymoon period soon ended. As the summer approached and she entered the final year of the Doctorate program, Amanda knew she wanted more out of the relationship. She was also looking forward to leaving Atlantic City behind, and was tired of the casinos, the gambling, the partying, and the thousands of people who flocked to Atlantic City for exactly this lifestyle. With this in mind, Amanda tried to talk to Jim about their future together, but he would quickly change the subject whenever it came up. Eventually, she gave up trying.
She knew it was the beginning of the end when he started showing up at the casino during the summer. He said it was just because he wanted to see her, but soon, the visits became more frequent. He started dressing differently, gambling in the pits, and partying with his friends, and before long, he had transformed himself into every other man in the casino, a shallow clone of the man she thought she knew.
Amanda had made the decision to break up with him after the holidays, but the problem solved itself in early December when she discovered he was sleeping with one of his undergrad admirers. It was a behavior she later found out he had repeated many times before, like a pavlovian dog in heat, unable to control his urges. Amanda had just been the latest in a long line of pretty students he dated, his flavor for a school year, his Freudian overcompensation to show off to his friends
“Do you mind if I sit down,” Amanda’s thoughts were interrupted as a well-dressed man in his late thirties or early forties sat down in seat seven at her table.
Broken Man Page 2
