Jacob's Bell

by John Snyder

  Jacob and Howard walked slowly down the street in the direction of Tom’s address.

  “Are you up for this today, Jacob?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m really not sure at all.”

  Sensing Jacob’s vulnerability, Howard spoke up. “I don’t know, Jacob. Maybe it’s not a good idea to do this today. Perhaps we should return to the mission and discuss a strategy as to how to approach the situation, given the volatile nature of your relationship with your sons.”

  “No, I want to get this over with, one way or the other. I need to do it today.”

  They proceeded on their journey.

  “What should I say when I see them?”

  “Simply tell them you’re sorry and that you want to speak with them about your feelings and to ask for their forgiveness.”

  “But what if they say no?”

  “How much does all this mean to you?”

  “It means everything. If I can gain the love and acceptance of my children after what I’ve done to them, I will never ask for anything else.”

  “Well, then, I guess you will have to take a chance if you want the answer.”

  As they approached the address Mr. Schmidt had given him, Jacob began to contemplate what lay ahead. What if they throw me out? His mind raced. He craved a drink. Satan was ribbing him…he could feel it. As Jacob walked, his knees felt weak with apprehension. They passed a grassy spot and Jacob stopped.

  “I need to sit down for a bit.”

  They relaxed at the base of an old oak tree, remaining there for a few more minutes while Jacob gathered his wits.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Jacob said as he stood.

  They made their way to the address on the piece of paper. As they stood across the street from 4473 Wabash, Jacob’s stomach churned.

  “Do you want me to stay here?” Howard asked.

  “No! If I ever needed a friend’s support, this is the time.”

  They crossed the street and Jacob stood at the front door. Suddenly, he lost his nerve and took a few steps back. Feeling ill-prepared, Jacob backed away, taking a seat on a bench across the street.

  Howard, void of any words of reassurance, took a seat next to Jacob and remained silent. Jacob stared at Tom’s front door, knowing he lacked the courage to do what he came to do. A little more than an hour passed.

  The door to the house opened. A tall, handsome young man emerged. It was Tom, the spitting image of Jacob when he was younger. Jacob watched as Tom limped down the street, out of sight. After witnessing his son’s awkward limp, Jacob turned to Howard and shook his head.

  It was about twenty minutes before Tom returned. He juggled several bags of groceries in his arms as he opened the front door to his home. Jacob rose from the bench and started to cross the street. Dazed by the prospect of talking with his sons, he stepped off the curb…

  “Jacob! Look out!” Howard shouted.

  The sound of a car horn blared, followed by the piercing noise of screeching tires. Jacob looked up and saw the approaching car, freezing in his tracks. Howard tried to save his friend, but was too late. The car slid toward Jacob and stopped just a foot short of hitting him.

  “Are you okay?” a man yelled as he exited his car.

  “Yeah, sure, I’m fine. I just wasn’t thinking and walked out in the street without looking.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Howard reassured him. “I’ll take care of him. You can go about your business.”

  “That was close,” Howard said as he reached for Jacob’s arm.

  The near miss left Jacob breathless.

  “I can’t do this. Not today,” Jacob said in a tone of disappointment.

  Lacking the nerve to knock on Tom’s door, Jacob abruptly turned and walked back toward the Salvation Army Mission. Howard followed. After several blocks, Jacob told Howard he wanted to be alone.

  “Are you going to be all right?”

  “I’ll be okay. I just need to walk and be by myself for a while. I’ve got some thinking to do.”

  Howard obliged, leaving him to his thoughts. Jacob walked around town without purpose. Along the way, he passed several taverns, each beckoning him in for a drink. As he approached a bar on the corner of 4th and Washington, he slowed. Looking through the window, he watched as the patrons laughed and enjoyed the festive atmosphere. The door swung open and Jacob got a whiff of the interior. It was tremendously inviting.

  No, he thought to himself. That would be a bad idea.

  Jacob quickly walked away, but after about ten paces, he turned and walked back to the tavern. He stood in front of the plate glass window. Suddenly, he saw his reflection. Staring at himself in the glass, he came to the recurring conclusion that his life was a worthless mess, a rationalization that caused him to open the door and enter the tavern, where he took a seat at the bar.

  “Give me a glass of whiskey.”

  “Coming right up,” the bartender replied.

  Jacob took a quick swig, then carefully set the glass back on the top of the bar. He stared at it curiously. It didn’t taste the same. It didn’t satisfy him as it had always done in the past. He raised the glass to his lips again and took another swallow. Gazing at the glass of booze, he felt guilty…ashamed. He stood and set the glass back on the bar. Sliding off his stool, he departed, leaving the half-filled glass of whiskey behind.

  When he returned to the mission, Howard eagerly greeted him.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I just was walking around. I have something to confess to you.”

  Jacob’s face was awash with shame.

  “Yes?”

  “While I was walking, I strolled by a bar and couldn’t resist the urge to go inside for a drink.”

  “Oh, Jacob—no.”

  “I ordered a glass of whiskey and took a drink. It tasted terrible. My shame and guilt caused me to set the glass back on the bar and leave without finishing it. Satan was testing me, but I passed the test,” he said grimly.

  “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Proud? I slipped up and had a drink.”

  “Yes, but you knew it was the wrong thing to do and you had the courage to put the drink down and walk away. You’ve come a long way, Jacob.”

  Chapter Twelve

  A few days later, Jacob and Howard set out to visit Tom and Frankie again. They made it back to the bench where they had sat before. Jacob attempted to garner the nerve to confront his sons, sitting quietly, staring at the house in a trance, fearful of what awaited him. His thoughts drifted back to when he took Tom fishing for the first time.

  “Now hold the rod still and watch the bobbin.”

  “What’s a bobbin, Papa?”

  “It’s that red and white thing floating out there on the water. When a fish bites, it will pull the bobbin under. When that happens, pull back on the rod like this to set the hook.”

  Jacob showed Tom the proper technique, then enjoyed the spectacle of watching his six-year-old son master the art of fishing.

  “Papa! Papa! I’ve got one. I’ve got one!”

  Tom reeled frantically. Jacob smiled at the wonder on Tom’s face when he got the first glimpse of what was at the end of his line, a whopping six-inch sunfish, which Tom proudly displayed.

  The noise of a passing streetcar brought Jacob back to the present and extinguished the bright smile from his face. Sitting on the bench across the street from his sons, he felt estranged from their love. He wondered about all the delightful memories he’d squandered.

  Realizing it was time, he motioned for Howard to join him as he walked across the street. Jacob took a deep breath and knocked on the door, his chest clinched tight. Tom opened the door. Upon seeing Jacob, a horrified look crossed his face, which quickly turned to one of anger. Jacob and Tom stood, just a few feet apart, staring at one another. Tom was first to speak.

  “How did you find me? What do you want?”

  “Tom, I…I came to say I’m sorry. I’m—”

  “Don’
t you think it’s a little late for that?”

  “I was hoping not.”

  “Well, you’re much too late. Too much time has passed, too much has happened for you to just walk in here, say you’re sorry, and make everything all right. Things will never be all right between us. You’re just a murdering bum.”

  “I realize I haven’t been the ideal father and I’ve done some revolting things, but I just want the chance to show you and Frankie how sorry I am. Please give me a chance.”

  “You had your chance. I want nothing to do with you. I’ve told you this before.”

  “What about Frankie? I’d like to talk to him.”

  “Oh, you’d like to talk to Frankie, would you? Well, like I said, it’s too late!”

  “Why don’t you let Frankie decide that for himself? I’d like to speak with him. Is he still living with you?”

  Tom’s face shuddered and turned a deep shade of crimson. His upper lip snarled, his eyes filling with tears.

  “That’s my point! Frankie is not living with me…he’s not living at all. Frankie is dead!”

  “Dead?”

  “Dead! You got that? Frankie’s dead!”

  “But…how? When?”

  “We buried him a few months ago. He got shot by a German sniper while fighting in Europe.”

  “My God, Frankie?” Jacob was crushed and he immediately began to weep.

  “Spare me your tears, you pathetic old man. We couldn’t even find you to tell you.”

  “Tommy, please…”

  Tom couldn’t contain his rage any longer. Deep creases broke out on his forehead; his eyes widened wildly while the veins bulged from the thin skin on his neck. He screamed, “I want nothing to do with you! Do you understand that? As far as I’m concerned, you can drop dead!”

  The door slammed. The reunion was over just as quickly as it began, leaving Jacob gasping for air. He melted into the cement steps, lying there weeping, while Howard tried to comfort him and pull him away from the door. Howard, too, appeared dazed by what he had seen and heard.

  Howard ushered Jacob up the street, away from Tom’s house. Jacob began wheezing, finding it difficult to breathe.

  “I’ve got to stop,” he told Howard as he panted.

  Finding the refuge of a light pole for support, he grabbed it, holding on as tight as he could. His grip was too weak to support him. He let his hands slide down the pole until his body slumped to the ground.

  “Frankie. Oh, my Frankie. I’m so sorry.” He surrendered himself to the ground, where he lay on his back and wept despondently.

  Howard put his hands on Jacob’s shoulders.

  “I just want to die. Leave me alone.”

  “I’m so sorry, Jacob.”

  “Why did God let this happen? Why didn’t he take my worthless life and spare Frankie’s?”

  “Please don’t blame God for this. You must have faith.”

  “Take me back, Howard. Take me back home.”

  As they walked back to the mission, Jacob was silent. Something he’d said earlier stuck in Howard’s mind. Jacob called the mission “home,” an indication that Jacob had a sense of belonging in his life. When they reached the mission, Jacob went straight to his cot, where he cried himself to sleep.

  * * *

  Jacob slept until around 9 p.m., when he awakened. Immediately, troubling thoughts came to his mind as he lay there considering taking his own life. This, he felt, would finally offer him the peace he desired. Craving a smoke and a drink, he snuck out the front door of the mission and headed for the closest tavern. Slapping what little money he possessed down hard on the bar, he ordered a drink. As the bartender poured it into a glass, the sweet fragrance of the whiskey fueled his desire. Wasting little time, he chugged it down, banging the glass down on the bar.

  “I’ll have another.”

  After hours of hard drinking and chain-smoking, Jacob ran out of money. Still craving more, he stole a bottle from the bar and staggered out the door unnoticed. He wended his way back to the mission, all the while sipping from the stolen bottle of booze. Quietly closing the door, he turned and discovered Howard standing behind him. Though Howard empathized with Jacob’s situation, he was disappointed to the point of being angry.

  “We have rules here. One of which is our residents are not allowed to come back here if they’re drunk. And if a resident brings alcohol into the mission, they are automatically tossed out. What were you thinking?”

  Irritated, Jacob shouted, “So throw me out then! I don’t care. I don’t care about anything.”

  Howard snatched the bottle from Jacob’s hand.

  “Come in and sit down.”

  “Why should I?”

  “We need to talk. The answer isn’t in this bottle, it isn’t on the streets, it’s within you.”

  Howard walked over to a table and sat down, waiting for Jacob to join him. Jacob remained at the front door, indecisive about whether to return to the streets and drink himself to death or to join Howard at the table. This would be a defining moment in Jacob’s life. Howard had a dire look of concern. Jacob was drunk and full of rage. He stood looking at the door then back at Howard.

  “Please come over here and sit down. We’ll have a talk about all of this.”

  Jacob opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk, slamming the door behind him. Howard’s lip drew taut as he shook his head in disappointment. Jacob had come so close, he thought. It crossed his mind to go after him, but Howard’s experience with alcoholics led him to be patient. Maybe after he sobers up, he’ll come to his senses.

  Suddenly the door swung open and Jacob stepped back inside. Walking over to the table, he asked, “Are you going to toss me out?”

  “Going by the rules, I have to. But on the other hand, if this incident never happened, it wouldn’t be an issue.” Howard paused for a moment, looking down at his feet. He looked up with a compassionate smile and said, “Let’s just say it never happened. But you have to promise me that you will never do this again. The choice is yours, Jacob. I want to help you. But to help anyone, that person needs to admit he can’t do it alone and that he needs help.”

  Jacob snapped back angrily, “Howard, what do you know about all of this? You’re a pastor. You’ve always been on the right side of things. You’ve never gone through what I have, or what anyone in this place has. You’ve never been squeezed by the tight grip of booze. You have never been in a state of mind where you don’t want to live any longer. You just don’t understand.”

  Howard reached over the table and grabbed Jacob by his shirt, lifting him from his chair. He yanked him halfway across the table, catapulting Jacob’s chair across the room.

  Howard shook with anger and shouted, “I don’t understand? You think I don’t understand? You don’t know anything about me or my past. I was just like you, Jacob. A lost drunk, wandering around the streets looking for my next drink…my next smoke, sleeping in gutters and flophouses. So don’t tell me I don’t understand, because I do! Don’t ever tell me that again.”

  Howard released Jacob from his grasp. His emotional admission sobered Jacob, who retrieved his chair and sat back down at the table.

  “Calm down, Howard. I would have never even imagined—”

  Howard interrupted him. “Well, now you know my dirty little secret. I have walked where you have. I do understand. Now, are you going to let me help you, or are you going to walk out that door and destroy your life…what’s left of it? If you want to rot in hell, be my guest.”

  “Howard, I can’t deal with all of this.”

  “You won’t be going through it alone, I can assure you.”

  “Frankie’s dead. He’s dead, and I didn’t even know it. Why? Why my Frankie?”

  “That’s a question that you, as a mere human, will never be able to comprehend. You can be proud of Frankie that he died defending his country. He’s a hero. Jacob, I’m very sorry about how things ended with you and Tom today. And I’m certainly sorry tha
t you lost Frankie. I know it was a devastating blow, but you can’t let this distract you. It’s obvious that Tom is unreceptive to seeing you or forgiving you. Perhaps in time he may change his mind.”

  “I don’t think that will ever be the case.”

  “That may be, but at this point it seems like that’s Tom’s choice. Perhaps God will work on his heart, and in the future he’ll be more receptive. Jacob, I think you’ve been leaving out a very important part of your story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Tom referred to you as a murderer. What was that all about?”

  Jacob went silent. “I don’t want to discuss it.”

  “Dang it! You have to. You’ve bared your soul in order to relieve your conscience of this weight you’ve been carrying for all these years. Now level with me, Jacob.”

  Jacob thought for a moment before deciding it was time to come clean…to reveal the deep secret that haunted his innermost being.

  “My life was on a very slippery slope. My drinking, carousing, and the men I was associated with destroyed my relationship with Amanda.”

  Jacob opened up and began to tell Howard everything…the details of his misery, and why his children hated him so.

  “After my arrest, I called Amanda and pleaded with her to bring the children and come back home. I told her I was innocent and that I’d changed my ways…that I had stopped drinking. I wanted to make it all up to her. I guess she felt sorry for me and she did as I asked. I tried my best to stop drinking, and for a while I did. We were getting along great. We had fallen back in love again. Then I began to slip back into my old ways. And something terrible happened on New Year’s Eve in 1922. The night started off badly. It ended in a way that forever changed my life. On that night I lost everything that was left in my life, the important things: Amanda and my children.”

  “Tell me how.”

  “This is going to be very difficult for me to relive.”

  “You must go on, Jacob. It’s the only way.”

  Howard grasped Jacob’s hands in support. Jacob closed his eyes and placed himself back on that snowy New Year’s Eve so many years ago.

  * * *