Chapter 10: Passion's What You Bet Your Life On

Background

When 13, just one month short of 14, year old Charlie McRoy hears the incredulous story of the impostor, who's posing as his father, relay the details of his magnificent obsession, he can't believe his ears. He wonders how much more...

"When I was your age, I used to dream about what I might be when I grew up. Well, uh, things didn't 'zakly turn out how I hoped but I guess I did all right. I ain't got much to complain about. My youngans are all well, pretty well happy. Can't ask for more than that, now can you?" He leaned way back on the balls of the two legs of the metal chair in which he sat.

Charlie thought for an instant, he may topple over onto the floor, but he caught himself just in time bringing the chair to rest on all four.

"I never did tell you this Champ, but there was one thing I always wanted more than anything else in the whole wide world, but was never able to get. You wanna know what that was?"

"Sure, Dad," Charlie responded, deciding it was better to keep up the spirit of the game, than to give way to ultimate paranoia or panic. (He was still convinced that because of all of the delusions he had experienced during the day, a mass hysteria of some uncertain, unknown, unmanageable energy had followed him home tangling up his brain, somehow.) Charlie was a little more satisfied with the self-generated explanation than nothing at all. He gazed directly into the eyes of the man who was playing the role of his father.

"What was it you always wanted but didn't ever get?"

"A 1957 Red and White authentic convertible Chevrolet Bel Air. What a classic. A real doll baby. You ever saw a picture of one, son?"

"No, Dad I don't think so."

"Ain't no thinking to it; if you'd ever seen that ole girl you'd might well know it." His eyes grew bright as diamonds when he spoke.

"But, why Dad, why didn't you ever get you one of those cars if it meant that much to you?"

"Because, Champ I let other things stand in my way. Well, I guess I don't mean I let other things stand in my way; what I really mean is that I didn't go 'bout things 'zakly right."

"What do you mean, Dad?"

"Well, I got married real young to your mama. Then, well uh, we didn't have much money and I liked to play poker. Bet ya didn't know that now did ya boy?"

Charlie was so surprised to hear his father (this man rather who was playing the part of his father) talk like this. Charlie's dad was the least likely man who anybody would have ever believed liked to gamble.

"No, Daddy I sure didn't know that. So did you lose a lot of money? That's why you couldn't get that special car you always wanted?" Charlie hung to every word. Even if this man wasn't Charlie's father, he was an interesting entertaining sort of guy. Charlie rather enjoyed the old timer's passion filled story.

"No, that ain't it at all, boy. I hardly ever lost. What are you talkin' 'bout! I was the best poker stud in the whole county. Everybody knew 'Slick Draw Charlie'. In my time, I was the best there ever was."

"So, what happened?"

"Ya gotta understand, boy. I loved poker so much, better than Peter loved the Lord. I gambled night and day. I stopped working at my regular job. Did nothin' but play poker I'd go for days without eatin' just so I wouldn't miss a hand. I'm talkin' 18-20 hours a day, seven days a week. Your mama couldn't take it, she left me."

Charlie couldn't believe his ears. What a strange sensation to be listening to someone who looked and sounded just like his dad telling him of the early years with his mother. Charlie halfway believed the crusty high-spirited man.

"Yep, took me 'bout the better part of ten years before I finally came to my senses."

"What happened to make you change your ways, Daddy?"

"Well, son it happened something like this. Your mama showed up one day, after she'd left; told me she was gonna divorce me if I didn't stop gambling. I gave it some thought, decided she was worth another shot. I always did love your mama, son. She's such a fine filly."

Charlie was not accustomed to that kind of slang. The strange man referred to his mother as a horse, and when he listened to how vain he was, it made him sick to his stomach. It was real obvious, by this time, that this man was indeed an impostor.

"Yep, I came on back to your pretty mama, got myself a real job and that's when you popped up. We was real glad 'bout that. Well, anyway I didn't do no more gambling 'till Jake Webster came round told me bout the big game they was a- having over in Jonesville. I tried to tell him I'd given up that life but he kept right on, wouldn't give it a rest. I can still recall Jake's words as if it was yesterday'."

"But, Big Charlie, (that's how I got my name, son)", Jake pleaded, "This game's the one tournament you can't afford to miss. The grand jackpot is none other than a 1957 red and white Chevrolet Bel Air."

"My heart fell to my knees, Champ. Just 'bout took my breath away! I knew I was 'bout to fall into the darkest pit of hell. Satan right there whisperin' in my ear. I'd done promised my Sophelia, there'd be no more gambling. But, YOU tell me son, what would you've done in you was in my place?"

Charlie didn't know how to answer the star stuck man.

"I guess I would have had to go. Is that what you did, daddy?"

"You damn well better believe it! You think I'm crazy? How was I gonna let that car get away from me? The one thing I wanted more than anything else in my entire life was staring me dead in the face. I would've been a fool to turn it down."

Charlie saw a gleam as he'd never seen in his father's yes. Life surged through him like a bottle of pure ecstasy.

"I just couldn't pass it up, boy. I had to go." The old man's head dropped slightly, grinning, Charlie could have sworn 30 years erased from his face as he rubbed his hands together joyously.

"So, tell me Daddy what happened?"

"Well, son, what do ya think happened? I lost. I lost everything. I even lost the title to our house. I spun it out and it didn't come back. I was weak, son, blinded by passion. I know that now, I gambled away everything we owned just for the chance to own that red and white doll baby hot rod machine."

"You lost the house, Daddy? But, the house, I thought, this was the only house you and Mama ever lived in."

"No, Champ we didn't get this house until you were 'bout three years old. We bought it with the insurance money from your grandmother's death."

Charlie was speechless. Who was this fellow? And, this outrageous story why was he telling him? Somehow Charlie felt it was related to the bizarre adventures of his incomprehensible day, connected to his obsessive desire for a genuine Red and White Sandblaster. Much too obvious for him to buy it entirely. He would have liked to tell the man how he no longer wanted the skateboard but before he could confess, Big Charlie continued his tale.

"And, ya know son, there ain't a day that goes by that I don't think of that '57 Chevy and how she cost me everything I had."

"But, Mama stood by you."

"Yep, she stayed but only 'cause of you. Had it not been for you, she would have left me high and dry 'cause I certainly deserved it."

"You mean you were punished for wanting the car?"

"Hell no, I don't mean I was punished. Everythin' worked out in the end. We do 'zacty what we're supposed to do at the time; it's the only thing we can do. But, we have to be willin' to accept that. We can't go no whinin' 'bout what went wrong."

"Then, what are you saying, daddy, 'because the same..."Big Charlie cut Charlie's word off.

"It's all 'bout responsibility, son. Being responsible enough to accept the consequences of your desires; no matter what you want, don't ever blame it on what goes wrong in your life. Do you understand? The memory of that loss haunts me ever' day; whoever sat down at that table never got up. I let it take away my freedom. I remain locked in the past: by a desire I could never get and the regret for throwing everything I owned away on it. Don't you I compare everthin' in my life to it?" Tears drizzled down the old man's scraggly bearded face.

"I'm sorry, daddy."

"Don't ever be sorry, son. That's what I'm trying to tell ya. I lost part of my soul over a willful desire I couldn't have and still can't shake to this very day. But, whatever it cost me, I gained in another way, IF I could've seen it that way. I didn't move on. I acted like it harmed me. “A regrettable far-away lust deflected in his deep-set brown eyes verified the gut-wrenching truth of his statements.

Charlie 'almost' felt bad for the old man, whoever he was. Not knowing why or how he could change anything for him, if he had wanted to, felt a distinct emptiness in the hollow sound of his low pitched voice.

"What are you trying to tell me, Dad? It's better not to ever have a burning desire for something?"

"NO, son, that ain't what I'm saying at all. It's the way you go after somethin'. It can't matter to you; if it does she'll sure 'nough ruin you. Don't let it rule your life. Ain't no value you can place on freedom. My poker playing had me bound up. The almighty sense of power I possessed when I gambled drove me like a blinded team of mules ready for the barn at the end of ten-hour day. That feel-good sensation's real to me today as it was all those years ago. I've never experienced that feeling before or since, I've only learned to bury it beneath my skin, 'cause I never let it go. I carry it with me everyday."

"So, is gambling bad?"

"No, son, nothin is bad as long as it don't rule your life. When something takes over you, and you go after it, no matter the cost, you'd better realize then and there it's gonna cost you plenty. Whatever it is, you think you can't live without, you better know it's the first thing you're gonna learn to live without. You're fixin' to take a wild ride. There ain't one bit of telling where that booger bear's gonna take you before he lets you go." He paused to digest his own words.

"Now I ain't saying there's anything wrong or right in those trips. All I'm saying is sometimes locking onto those red hot desires is the only way you really learn what it means to be free. There’s a mighty smart difference 'tween the idea of freedom and being free."

"Freedom?" That's what the Red Bird had chirped to Charlie just before he entered his house. The strange man, who was posing as Charlie's father, was talking about Charlie's castle journey. Charlie wanted to scream about the incredible journey. He knew the impostor would be able to understand. But, then again, why should he tell a perfect stranger something so important? If he was going to tell anyone, shouldn't it be someone he knew instead of a total stranger? He decided against the idea of telling, 'Big Charlie'. He would wait and tell his real family.

At that precise moment, Big Charlie got up and proceeded to the living room. He plopped himself down in front of the television set, picked up the remote control. He leaned back in Daddy's chair. Charlie silently ranted. That man wasn't his real daddy. Who did he think he was taking over the designated sacred seat? Charlie decided against saying anything. Reluctantly, he receded to his bedroom once again.

Charlie had grown much wearier, coupled with his exhausting day, lack of sleep and confused mind, he was uncertain of the meaning for any of the circumstances he had faced. Could it be because he was so utterly tired, barely being able to hold his eyes open, that maybe just maybe, part of the things he thought he was seeing since having arrived home were merely projections of an extremely over-indulged mind?

Charlie toyed with the idea of re-entering the house again; beginning with the closing of the front door, saying good-bye to the Red Bird. But, the idea seemed too bizarre. Charlie needed rest above all else. When he reached the doorway of his bedroom he checked to see if Prissy was lying, sitting, curling or frozen in glass. She was neither. She had obviously found a better place to occupy.

He was glad; he lay across the top of the bed. He had heard of the hallucinations associated with stories regarding people who had gone without sleep but this was simply ridiculous: a disappearing mother, matchstick sisters, personal cat frozen in glass, poker playing simulated father.

"What an amazing thing the imagination is. Please, God, if I've made all this stuff up in my head - can you - will you make it all go away before morning? Thank you. AMEN." Charlie prayerfully drifted off to sleep. He slept soundly, not even remembering turning over once.

 Author's Notes:  "Thank You" RandyWasham for the wonderful picture of the poker table I used, with your gracious permission, in chapter 10 of the Subject of Desire. It fits perfectly.