| General Fiction posted January 16, 2023 | Chapters: |
...43 44 -45- 46... 
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E.J. begins to experience alcohol withdrawal symptoms
A chapter in the book Some Call It Luck
Some Call It Luck - Chapter 45
by Jim Wile
| Background A brilliant and beautiful but insecure, nerdy young woman befriends a going nowhere older alcoholic caddie. Together, they bring out the best in each other and collaborate on a startling new invention |
(See the Author Notes for a description of the main characters.)
Recap: At Abby’s prompting, E.J. has decided to return to school, financed by his winnings on the golf course, but he starts losing as he has developed a problem with his putting. He has just lost a match then drank heavily to settle down before he has to play bridge with Abby. The bridge doesn’t go so well, and E.J. insults one of his opponents. Abby calls him out on it, and he goes home and drinks to forget about the terrible day.
The next day he meets Eddie Phillips who helps rid him of the yips, and with his new-found confidence, E.J. challenges Jimmy Fairbanks to a match for $5,000. The night before the match, he has a sudden pang of doubt which sends him to a bar to drink with his friends. That settles him down, and he falls asleep at home.
The match begins well, but the yips come back, and E.J. loses not only the match but a side bet of $20,000 when he bets Fairbanks he will make a hole-in-one. He hits a perfect shot with the Lucky 1, but it drifts into the trees on the wind. He has lost most of his college money, then goes home and gets drunk and is violently ill before crashing into bed.
He awakens the next morning to discover that all the events since the bridge game where he insulted his opponent and came home and got drunk had been a dream. He finally realizes the devastating effect that his addiction to alcohol is having on his life and vows to give it up cold turkey.
A continuation of the chapter: E.J. Budrowski - September, 1987
The high I was feeling about my new resolve on Friday carried into Saturday morning, but toward Saturday afternoon I began to feel physically uneasy. Though it wasn’t particularly hot that day, I found myself sweating a lot during my loop, which was unusual for me. My hands also seemed to shake a little, and I had a mild headache. And boy, did I crave a drink, but I’d made up my mind I was done with that, and I was going to stick to it.
On Sunday, by the end of my loop in the morning, I was really dragging. I knew I didn’t have the energy for a second loop that afternoon, so I went home following the end of the round for a nap. I never took naps! My headache was back worse than yesterday, and my alcohol craving was intensifying. I held firm, though.
Monday was much the same. Caddying became more and more arduous as my energy level continued to drop. I had trouble getting to sleep that night, so Tuesday morning I slept-in a couple of extra hours; I just couldn’t seem to drag myself out of bed and get going. I finally managed it and came into the caddie yard around 10:00 AM. I guess I didn’t look so hot because Tony asked me if I felt okay. I was disheveled from having slept in my clothes, as well as sweaty and flushed. It was a slow morning, and Tony said there wouldn’t be any loops for a while.
I just decided to go home then. I wasn’t sure I had the energy to caddie now anyway.
It was all I could do not to stop at the liquor store and buy more booze, but I drove right by it. When I got home, I had trouble falling asleep again. I ended up not going to work at all on Wednesday and hung around the apartment all day, reading one of my library books and dozing off. Fortunately, Thursday and Friday were my normal days off, so I didn’t worry about going to work for several more days.
What was wrong with me? Was I having withdrawal symptoms from alcohol, as I’d suspected this might be for a few days now? I still hadn’t had a drop since last Thursday night. If so, how long would this last? Never having gone cold turkey before, I didn’t know. It just seemed to be getting worse. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
I called Abby and asked her if she could pick me up at my place rather than meet at the temple for bridge tomorrow. I told her my car would be in the shop, and that I would need the ride. She readily agreed. It was a fib, but I didn’t think it would be safe for me to drive tomorrow if I continued to feel like this.
By Thursday afternoon I dragged myself from bed, where I had remained most of the day, and took a cold shower. I shaved and combed my hair and put on some fresh clothes, trying to make myself as presentable as possible for bridge tonight. I also tried eating a little something, but I was feeling slightly nauseous and only managed a few saltines and water.
6:40 PM came around, and I met Abby down in front on the street. I guess I looked presentable enough because she didn’t ask me how I was feeling. We just talked about bridge on our way over to the temple.
The first few hands were uneventful with nothing special in the bidding or play of the cards. Then we came to a close hand that I lost concentration on and had to take a long time to remember what cards had been played. Eventually I remembered and played the hand correctly. I’m normally a fast player, and it annoyed me how long it took me to get it right.
On another hand, which we were defending, Abby played a different suit from the one I led after she won the trick. It turned out not to be the correct play. At the end of the hand, I said to her in a peeved tone, “Why didn’t you return my suit when you won the opening lead? They made an overtrick because of it.”
“I didn’t read the hand that way. In hindsight, you’re probably right. Sorry,” she said.
I said nothing.
A few hands later she was the declarer, meaning I was the dummy, and she played both hands. She made the first dumb mistake I’d ever actually seen her make when she mis-counted the trumps, leaving one with the opponents when she could have drawn it. She subsequently went down two tricks when they trumped in, much to her surprise. It led to a bottom score for this hand.
“Learn to count, Abby,” I said below my breath, not intending for her to hear it, but she did and frowned at me.
On the last hand of the night, she was again declarer. It was a difficult hand, and she ended up going down-1 for an average score. I saw a way to make it, but it required an unusual play.
We ended up coming in third with 57%--not a horrible result, but we could have done much better. I was very annoyed. As we were leaving, I said to her, “Jeez, Abby, you played like crap tonight. You should have made that last hand. Haven’t you ever heard of Morton’s Fork Coup? Perfect example of that.”
She looked shaken. “Morton’s what?”
“Fork Coup. Maybe you should read up on it,” I crabbed at her.
“You know, E.J., I don’t know what your problem is tonight, but all you’ve done is complain about my play the whole time. Maybe you can just find your own way home. I don’t think I want to be around you anymore tonight.”
“Ah, c’mon Abby. Don’t be like that. Grow a pair!”
Her cheeks flushed, and her nostrils began to flare. “E.J.… just… Fork Coup!” and she stormed out.
What an idiot I was! How much more obnoxious and insensitive could I possibly have been? I just pissed off my best friend—probably the nicest, most decent person I’ve ever met. Man, what had gotten into me? I was disgusted with myself and didn’t bother asking anyone for a ride. I just left and walked the five miles back home.
I almost didn’t make it. The shame I felt zapped the little energy I had right out of me. I walked slowly and had to stop frequently to rest. By the time I got home, it was four hours later, and I had to pull myself up the banister to get upstairs to my apartment. It was 3:00 in the morning, and I was dying for a drink, but fortunately, there wasn’t any liquor to be had; otherwise, I might have yielded. I barely had enough energy to make it into bed, where I collapsed in a heap and passed out.
Abby St. Claire: Age 21. She has just graduated from Penn State University where she was a math major and has decided to go for a masters degree there next year. She is intelligent and beautiful, yet shy and awkward with most people her age, having been picked on quite a lot while growing up. She works at the snack bar and as a waitress at Brentwood Country Club during the summers. She is dating Kenny who she met earlier this year and is a member at Brentwood.
E.J. Budrowski: Age 38. An alcoholic with a traumatic past (an abusive father and a mother driven to suicide) who is a caddie at Brentwood CC. One day he finds a dirty old golf ball on the edge of a pond that seems to have unusual powers, for he makes two holes-in-one with it. He and Abby become friends when she encourages him to take up both golf and bridge again after long layoffs.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. E.J. Budrowski: Age 38. An alcoholic with a traumatic past (an abusive father and a mother driven to suicide) who is a caddie at Brentwood CC. One day he finds a dirty old golf ball on the edge of a pond that seems to have unusual powers, for he makes two holes-in-one with it. He and Abby become friends when she encourages him to take up both golf and bridge again after long layoffs.
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