Angel in Blue Jeans

by Richard L. Coles

  “Ms Weston—please. You’re entitled to your opinion. But I really must go; I have things I must do. And I hope that, when the centre is built and working, you’ll see things differently.”

  She threw her cigarette butt on the driveway, stamping her foot on it as she turned and stormed off toward the Mews.

  Dwayne shook his head and walked back up to his house. Are there any others like that hidden in the Mews? he thought. Now that he understood what Dana and the others were doing, he was all for the project.

  - 19 -

  “Come on in, both of you,” said Jane as she opened her front door. “Dana, let me take your jacket. No, Jason, don’t worry about your runners, it’s dry out. Graham’s in the living room. Just go on through.”

  Graham stood as Dana and Jason Johnson entered the room. “Hey guys.”

  “Hey, Mr—Captain Stennings.”

  “Hey, now, that’s enough of that, Jason. Look, we’re working together. Call me Graham, please.”

  “And call me Jane, too.”

  “Thanks, Cap—Graham.”

  Everyone laughed at Jason’s stumble. Dana was comfortable now with first names for the Stennings, but she realized that this was maybe a first for Jason.

  “Come and sit down; make yourselves comfy,” said Graham, spreading his arms to indicate the easy chairs and sofa in front of the fireplace. Dana sat in a chair, and Jason spread onto the sofa. Graham sat down in the other chair.

  “Okay, I’ll leave you to work, then,” said Jane, as she went down to the basement.

  Graham nodded, and then turned inward to the fireside grouping. “So, where shall we start?” he asked, looking at Dana.

  “Well, maybe you could tell us how you got on with Mr Hennigan, first?”

  “Sure,” responded Graham. He settled back in his chair, picking up some notes from a side table. “I had a really good chat with Mr Hennigan on the phone; he was very helpful, and seemed to be bubbling over with ideas.”

  “I know,” interjected Dana. “He’s a wonderful old man. I think he has been lonely for so long, he’s happy to meet new people. He seemed to enjoy talking to us.”

  “So, we talked about the old days,” Graham continued, “when the brewery was first built, when the Hennigan family lived close by. He said he has some old photographs that we can use. I said we would have copies made of the originals, and perhaps enlarge them for a display. He told me a lot about the problems in the brewing industry with the coming of prohibition, and about his family’s move to Kingston. We must have talked for over an hour on the phone. I was taking these notes, so I think I probably have the bones of what we might do for a history of the place.”

  “That’s a good start, then,” said Jason, adjusting his position and leaning forward.

  “Yes. Now, I guess the question is, how do we want to tackle the problem side of alcohol?”

  Dana took over. “Jane has already given me some good stuff on the RIDE program that she used to work on. She’d brought it from the station. I’ve got it here.”

  Dana pulled out a pile of leaflets and papers from her bag, and spread them on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

  “There’s some advertising leaflets, and here’s a couple of reports with statistics an’ that. And Jane gave me a few photographs of accidents that we can use to show the kind of damage that can happen.”

  “Quite a haul you have there,” Graham complimented Dana.

  “I spent some time over at the library on Saturday,” said Jason, pulling out a sheaf of papers. “I found a couple of good books that had sections about beer, and wine, and liquor. Like, how they were made in olden times, like, the middle ages an’ that. Did you know everybody drank beer then? It was safer than the water to drink. An’, like, I didn’t know that in some countries in Europe, kids drink wine with their meals. It’s weird, like, the laws are so different in different countries. There’s even places in Britain, Wales I think, where in some towns you can’t buy beer on Sundays, but in the next town two miles away, you can, so everybody just goes to the next town. It’s stupid.”

  “Yes.” Graham smiled. “There’s quite a lot of confused thinking about alcohol.”

  “Yeah.” Jason grinned. “Anyway, I copied some pages here. P’raps we can use some of the stuff in them.”

  Dana made as if to speak, then sat back. Graham looked at her quizzically. She smiled. “I was going to say something, but I couldn’t think of how to start,” she said, apologetically.

  “Try another approach,” suggested Graham supportively.

  Dana was having difficulties formulating her point. Graham and Jason waited.

  “I guess what I’m trying to get at is how do we get the message across that beer an’ stuff are not bad in themselves, but that it’s the way we misuse, abuse them, that’s wrong?”

  “Yes, that’s going to be hard. It’s one of the big problems in society; it can strike at any place, in any family.”

  Dana caught that allusion, not intended, she was sure; it still brought up images from the back of her mind.

  Jason spoke. “Like, we’ve got to decide who we’re trying to get the message to. Who’s going to see what we put together in the Centre? We’re not going to get through to guys like that Lucasz Woslewski, no way.”

  “I think we need to aim it at the young kids, and at our local teenagers; they’re probably the most easily influenced, for good or bad,” said Dana pensively.

  “One of the major factors in alcoholism seems to be stress,” said Graham, shifting the topic slightly. “We haven’t considered talking to Alcoholics Anonymous yet.”

  “Of course.” Dana brightened. “We should, and there’s a teenager offshoot of AA, what’s it called? Alateen, or something. Yeah, that’s right. Angelo and Peter had to go to a few meetings after the accident. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

  “Not to worry,” reassured Graham, tilting his head at the sounds of Jane busy in the basement.

  “So, where do we go from here?” Jason spread his hands over the piles of paper.

  Dana was the one who responded. “I suggest we each tackle one aspect, try writing up something on just one topic; not too long, otherwise it gets unreadable. Maybe, we each work on the stuff we’ve found out, and then we try putting it all together.” Dana was taking control.

  “Good idea, Dana,” said Graham. “When do you suggest we reconvene?”

  “Mmm, how about two weeks’ time? I’ve got a book report due next Wednesday, but after that I’m clear, at the moment.”

  “Yeah, that’s okay,” agreed Jason. “We’ve got a Math test Tuesday, and a term paper for Lit, but that’s not due till the end of the month. Yeah, no problem; two weeks today?”

  “Sure.”

  They all stood, gathering up their papers.

  “I’ll contact George Simpson and ask him if he would bring back the old photos when he next visits Mr Hennigan,” added Graham as they walked toward the door. “By the way, Dana, I spoke with Captain Ellis at Petawawa. How about the weekend after next, are you free? She could give you the whole weekend—I’d take you up Friday eve and bring you back Sunday late. Check with your parents—we’d need their written permission.”

  “Sounds great, I’ll get back to you. Thanks.”

  Jane had come upstairs. “Busy day tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, I have a cheerleader squad practice before school tomorrow.” Dana made a mock grimace.

  “We’ve come a long way since our first chat,” explained Graham. “We’re at the first draft stage now. Next meeting should take us a lot longer. We’ll be getting down to details then.”

  “It’s good to see all this happening,” said Jane as she helped Dana with her jacket.

  “Yep, people working together,” agreed Graham. “G’night Dana, Jason.”

  “Yeah, thanks. Bye Graham. Bye Jane.”

  “See you again soon.”

  As the door closed behind them, Jason whispered to Dana, “The
y’re a really cool couple, like, normal people.”

  Dana chuckled. “Of course, whadya expect—zombies?”

  At that, she suddenly jumped aside as another person appeared abruptly. “Tony!” gasped Dana. “What’re you doing? You scared me.”

  “Huh? Sorry, Dan, didn’t mean to, just walking along. More to the point, what’re you two up to?”

  “We’ve just been meeting with Cap—er, Graham, about words for the museum at the Centre,” put in Jason.

  “Thought you said you had too much work to go out tonight.” Tony addressed Dana in a disbelieving tone.

  “Come on, Tone, don’t be like that. I knew I had this meeting tonight and a mid-term test tomorrow morning. I have to study for the test now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “’Kay. Bye.” And Tony walked off.

  Sheesh, thought Dana, what’s got into him, again?

  - 20 -

  David Adkins sat back in his chair, staring at the brass and glass doors that enclosed the hearth of their stone fireplace. His thoughts were far away, racing back through his life, dashing into one old scene, jumping to another, and another. Images crowded into his inner eye.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  His thought line snapped. “Uh, what?”

  “I said, what are you thinking about?” repeated his wife Barbara.

  “Do’know, really,” responded Dave. “I was just wandering, I guess.”

  “Well, do you want the job?” Barbara came straight to the point.

  “Uh? Oh, that.”

  “Come on, Dave, love, it’s a wonderful offer, right up your street.”

  “I know, it’s just …”

  “Just that you don’t like the idea of it being handed to you on a plate.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “Look, Mike was a bit forward, putting you on the spot at that meeting, but he was only thinking of what you could do to help Dana’s project succeed. And George Simpson was very gracious when he came round to see you. I s’pose it was a kind of interview he gave you. Oh, and the other day, John called me into his inner office. He told me he’d had lunch at the courthouse with George the day before, and George had been telling him about the old brewery project. John said that George had spoken highly of a Dave Adkins, who had been offered the job of administrator. John told me he had put in a good supporting word for you. So you see, sweetheart, it’s just made for you.”

  “I guess you’re right. I suppose any other job I’ve had, I’ve had to apply for, I’ve had to compete for. That’s what’s so different here.”

  “Well, deep down, do you want it?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “But no but. Go pick up the phone and call George. Tell him you accept, and ask when you start. Go on!”

  Dave sighed. “The job starts at the beginning of next month. Hennigan wants the administrator to be involved right from the start. But …”

  “But what, love? What’s holding you back?”

  “I guess it’s because it’s so close to home. I’ll be working with all our neighbours. I’ll be paid a salary, but they’ll be volunteering their time. And I’ve always gone out of the neighbourhood to go to work before. I don’t know if I can match neighbours’ expectations.”

  Dave knew he was in a much better state than he had been several months ago, thank goodness, but he also felt that he had a way to go to regain his full self-confidence.

  “Of course you can, and you will. Dave, come on, this whole community is behind you. Young Dana has done a great job, starting the ball rolling the right way. We all need you to pick it up now and run with it.”

  “I guess you’re right,” said Dave with a deep sigh. “I guess you’re right.”

  Barbara stood up from her armchair, walked over to him, and kissed him. “Go and do it now,” she said softly.

  Dave sat still in his chair for thirty seconds, mustering all his strength. He knew the job was not going to be an easy one; there would be many pitfalls, many challenges. It would be different, and yet so similar to all his past experiences; it was just that it would combine all of his past work and volunteer experience into one single job, so close to home.

  Slowly, he rose and walked to the kitchen phone. Cody and a friend were in the family room beyond the kitchen, watching television—loud.

  Dave turned, opening the door to the basement. He turned on the light and slowly descended the stairs. He walked over to the telephone at the far end of the bar counter.

  His eye caught the glint of the glasses on the shelves at the back of the bar—no longer any bottles of scotch, or anything else alcoholic. He knew in his heart that he had conquered that problem. It had only started to take control of him after he had lost the job last Christmas-time. There had been a point where he was really on the edge. Looking back, he now realized how close he had been to sliding down the wrong side of that slippery alcoholic slope.

  And then there was the incident with the policewoman, and the mess with Kelly. But Barbara had been a tower of strength. God, he knew now how hard she had worked on him during those dark days, when he was so down, when he seemed unable to last no more than a couple of hours without another shot of alcohol. Without it, he became a trembling wreck, but with it, he was not much better.

  He could see the kids’ faces: the older two disgusted, Cody fearful. No visitors came into the house in those days through May and June, and he and Barbara had no outside social life, either.

  Dear Barbara, she gave so much. She had worked steadily on him, coaxing, reassuring, supporting, rebuilding his confidence. That, he now realized, was probably the root cause of it all. His confidence in himself, his self-esteem, had been shot away, and all he could find to try to bolster it had been scotch—the smooth, warm, engulfing sensation of good scotch sliding down the throat.

  But it was oh so temporary, for so short a time, that soon he had felt the need for more, before the demons, the tremors took over.

  He suddenly felt a shiver run through him, and came back to the present. Now he had a real purpose in life again, he had no need, no excuse, for crutches. He had no need for false support. His confidence was back. He had made up his mind.

  Carefully, systematically, he dialled Simpson’s number.

  - 21 -

  Dana lay on her bed, her head propped up on her two pillows, gazing up at the pink lampshade her mother had given her for her twelfth birthday—how twee. The late afternoon light was fading fast, but it was enough to light her room.

  Her mind was far away, out on the range, following the platoon, crouched low, skulking through the underbrush, laden with gear, weapons at the ready—switch—riding the armoured personnel carrier, head out of the hatch, windswept hair flying behind, breath in gasps, radio crackling, down into the hollow, mud splashed everywhere, gunfire—switch—now in the Ops Room, tense, markers on the map table, blues are failing fast, radio crackle, blues kayoed—but what if it were real?—switch—riding in the patrol car, dispatcher’s voice, siren wailing, red lights flashing, store window reflections, traffic lights on red, must go through, traffic peels away, tearing through streets, multiple collision, there are casualties, note the plates, blood, dead—switch—parade square, music, rhythm, precision, marching boots, flags, cannon-fire, solemn, quiet—switch—dispatcher calling, “B and E”, into the ’burbs, look at the mess, broken glass, hysterical mother, wailing child—switch—officers’ mess, guest, what a place, four stripes—what’s that? challenge cups, order—switch—in the market, in the doorways, on the sidewalk, cruising, watch that john, okay they’ve got him, was she a cop? yeah—switch—thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, louder, thumpa, louder, thumpa, cover your ears, watch the helo, hovering, watch that rope, here they come, zip, down the rope one, zip two, zip three, watch the injured, two cover, weapons ready, one clears the injured, up he goes, up goes one, up goes two, up goes three, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, thumpa, fainter, thumpa, fainter, thumpa, mission accomplished, sir.

&
nbsp; She rolled onto her left side and reached over to pick up the booklet from the side table. She toyed with it, idly gazing at the front cover and then the back, upside down—in French—before opening it.

  The booklet opened quite naturally now, the crease at its spine having been bent back many times in the past few days. Her eyes were drawn again to the aerial view of the college at Kingston. Kingston would be fine; at least she’d visited it now.

  She leafed through the pages yet again. The more she thought about it, the more attractive the whole thing seemed. But everything seemed so rosy, and yet there had to be another side to it all.

  She held the open booklet in front of her for a long time, not really seeing it. Gradually, she focussed: the upbeat words, the photos of typical activities; the whole tone was encouraging, positive. But the other side wasn’t there—if she chose this as a career, her commitment would be to obey, whatever the cost—so Captain Ellis had stressed.

  Could she do that? Could she really, really imagine herself in that kind of situation? Could she steel herself to take what she had actually seen some of the people up at Petawawa being put through—and that was only training? Could she really?

  A shiver passed through her; her hands were tingling, her heart racing. Yesss, I can, she thought. That has to be for me. She had made the choice. She must succeed.

  She closed the booklet, set it down beside her, and rolled onto her back again. She closed her eyes.

  Now came the doubts. She could see the stress in the faces of the soldiers going out on the range. Could she really stand the discipline? Could she stand the putdowns, the crap that would be thrown at her?

  Captain Ellis had pulled no punches when she took her round Petawawa and the range. It’s no camping holiday, no ma’am. She would be pushed into the dirt, climb out, and be ordered to do it again, and again …

  She shuddered. I can do it, I must do it. Why must I do it? Yeah, why?