Everything Was & Everything Is: 4 Stories

By John T Welch

Everything Was & Everything Is tells four stories of fathers and sons, husbands and wives, long-held friendships, aging, loneliness, and connection in the Twenty-First Century. John T. Welch is a deep observer and a tender storyteller who brings readers into his characters’ worlds and reminds us of our shared humanity. True storytelling takes on a universality that transcends times and space. True storytelling can heal. Welch achieves true storytelling in his collection of novellas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: John T Welch
• Release date: Oct 24, 2022
• ISBN: 9798985008333

John T Welch

John T. Welch is a son of Queens, New York, and a longtime resident of North Carolina. He speaks the languages of both and is at home in both. He knows the highways and rest stops in between as well as any long-distance truck driver. He is a husband, father, teacher, and storyteller.

Book preview

Everything Was & Everything Is:

4 Stories

John T. Welch

Copyright © John T. Welch 2022

All rights reserved.

ISBN paperback: 979-8-9850083-2-6

ISBN ebook: 979-8-9850083-3-3

Library of Congress Control Number: 2022914887

The stories in Everything Was & Everything Is are works of fiction and the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to real people or events is coincidental.

Except for brief excerpts used in reviews, neither this book nor any of the contents may be reproduced in any medium or form without written permission. Please direct requests to the publisher as shown below.

Author’s photo by Katie Elizabeth Photography.

Book design by Kelly Prelipp Lojk

Published by Lystra Books & Literary Services, llc

391 Lystra Estates Drive

Chapel Hill, NC 27517

[e-mail]

For my family

&

in loving memory

of my parents

Contents

Ghost Ship for Andromeda

Thurman

Golden Moment

Everything Was & Everything Is

Acknowledgments

Ghost Ship for Andromeda

Summer 1977

On any given Saturday night during the summer I turned sixteen, my pals Leif, Rocco, and I would scale the walls of a block of stores on Baddock Avenue in Queens, beer bottles in our pockets, by using a dumpster in the alleyway, then grabbing onto the air conditioner units above the dumpster, lifting ourselves up onto the roofs of the stores.

It was our alleyway, our turf, and it was where we grew up. When we were younger, we played a lot of stickball in the alley. We often had to climb onto the roof to fetch the foul balls that invariably made their way up there.

We’d left stickball behind. The rooftop had a new purpose in our lives.

Leif would soon be off to start a college career to pursue a criminal justice degree and then law school. Rocco and I were still in high school. Rocco was attached to his girl, Michelle, and wasn’t around much. I was happy to have a night with my two friends, maybe our last night for a long time. Leif brought along a buddy of his, Brewster Holm. They worked together that summer at a catering hall, becoming fast friends. Rocco and I had heard of Brewster but hadn’t met him before.

On this particularly quiet Saturday night in August, the sky was clear, the air was dry and cool. The ebbing of sweltering summer weather revitalized us. We had energy again, excited about the autumn on its way. We met in the street just after dark.

So where do we go? I asked.

The roof, Leif said.

What roof? Brewster asked.

On Baddock Avenue over the stores in an alleyway, Leif said.

Yes! I said. Maybe we can see Voyager 2. I had learned from my almanac that the planets would be visible in the sky that night, with a full moon thrown in for good measure.

Brewster looked at me. We could have seen Voyager 2 when it was launched, the rocket that is, but not now.

I was just hopeful, I said. And I was hopeful that my new acquaintance, Brewster Holm, was interested.

We can’t see it now, knucklehead, Leif said. He and Rocco were worn out by my lectures about Voyager 2. He had had enough of my hypotheticals about what the satellite might accomplish and encounter on its journey. I knew Brewster was right. Voyager 2 was too far away for us to see, especially from where we were in New York City with all its lights interfering with our view of the night sky. I was still enthralled though.

I talked about the satellite all summer, going over the facts drilled into us in physics class the previous year. It wouldn’t even get out of our solar system for forty years, not until 2018. Then it would head for a distant galaxy, Andromeda. I was hopeful that Voyager 2 would make some kind of contact with other creatures, humanlike, I imagined, and intelligent. They would come stay with us, we with them.

I tried and failed to wrap my mind around light years, the vastness of space. The thing I could grasp was the coolest thing about Voyager 2. It carried a gold-plated phonograph record that contained the sounds of earth, its languages, its songs, including one of my favorites, Johnny B. Goode by Chuck Berry.

I was interested in the gold album because I was trying to find a way of buying a top-of-the-line stereo. I dreamt of eventually having a collection of the albums we thought were important. Of course, that collection would include the albums of Chuck Berry, Johnny B. Goode himself.

I speculated about what kind of stereo system the residents of Andromeda would have when Voyager 2 finally reached them.

One of the first things Rocco and I took notice of was how cat-quick and agile Brewster Holm was. He followed Leif right up onto the roof, nearly arriving at the same time. Rocco and I glanced at each other, nodding in approval at Brewster’s dexterity.

Once we were all on the roof, we popped our beers and looked up at the open sky, watching the full moon climb out of the east. It chased after Venus and led Jupiter. I had seen their arc in textbook illustrations and loved to see it for myself in the sky. And I tried to find Voyager 2 on some path of its own. Look as hard and long as I might, I could not spot the satellite.

Ha, Adam’s still looking, Leif kidded.

He never gives up, Rocco said. I knew he respected my tenacity, even when he joked about it.

I laughed with my neighborhood pals and with my new friend, Brewster Holm.

I think Brewster felt honored, being brought into Leif’s fold, sharing our special place on the roof that we thought belonged to us exclusively.

Brewster listened respectfully to our stories about the roof we were on, the alleyway we were in together. That respect made me like him. I knew why Leif and Brewster were already friends.

I stood on the rooftop gazing at the moon with Venus to the right, Jupiter to the left. I could only see them because they reflected the set sun’s rays that were bouncing off each of them. Those rays arrived at my eyes because they were traveling at 186,000 miles per second.

Voyager 2 floated through space not moving at anything approximating the speed of light. And the chances were high that it would be destroyed by something else zooming around in space. We would probably be long gone when it was destroyed.

We drank our cold beer on this crisp summer night, feeling good to be in each other’s company and happy at what we beheld in the heavens. We pointed to some landmarks in the neighborhood for our new acquaintance. Some of the church steeples, our schoolyard, the elevated railroad line that hung over the catering house Leif and Brewster worked at, where I would later join them to work after high school. And when we looked out and up, we reasoned that the scientists designed the gold album with the realization that we might not, probably would not know if its contents were ever shared. We reasoned if music is universal, it may be appreciated somewhere else in the universe through the recordings on the gold album carried by Voyager 2.

As I imagined Voyager 2 heading on its way to discover our own solar system, the first leg of its journey and mission, I alternated my gaze from my three friends to the three celestial orbs I had located in the night sky. I wondered when Voyager 2 would get by our own Milky Way galaxy and reach Andromeda, the next closest galaxy in a universe with innumerable galaxies.

January 2016

I drove to New York from my home in Charlotte. I made this journey two or three times a year in most years. Evelyn, my wife, blessed the trips, maybe was glad to let me go for a few days. The kids seemed to mind when they were younger. As teenagers, they had their own lives. It was bye Dad, see you Dad. Anyway, the reason I gave Evelyn for making the trip this time was that it was Rocco’s birthday. Another reason was I wanted to check up on Brewster. He sounded bad when I talked to him on the phone. He told me that his father was going to die at any moment. That was sudden and very bad news.

The Giants were in the playoffs. Brewster invited Rocco and me over to his home to watch the game. Brewster lived in Manhattan near Columbus Circle, light years away from that summer night years ago.

Rocco didn’t want to go to Brewster’s. Let’s watch the game at a bar. I know a good one. You’ll like it.

Just for the game, I said to Rocco over the din, while our subway car rolled and roared down the track.

He never understood why Leif and I loved Brewster so much. He just did not get Brewster at all. I knew I had a mule on my hands in Rocco.

It’s just that when I called, Brewster said he’d cook us dinner and we’d watch the game. Maybe Leif will show if he knows we’re there.

It’s my birthday!

Well, that’s one of the reasons why Brewster’s cooking and getting Leif to come by.

We have the whole city in which to watch the game and the whole night to hang out. I don’t want to go over there.

I did not want to play the dying father card. I felt I had no choice and knew it would work since Rocco had lost his dad two years back.

Okay. Look, Rocco, his father is dying, and I told Brewster I’d go with him to the hospital to see him.

Why did you tell him that? He looked out the window of the subway car at the dark tunnel we were going through, but I knew my sweet firefighter would go along with my plans, even if it was his birthday.

Two reasons. I’m worried about Brewster because he’s going to be a mess when his dad dies, just like you were. And this is the only time I can see him before I head back to Charlotte.

That was my hook. I could tell it was in him because he gave me the silent treatment, pretty much, until we got to Brewster’s.

Leif was already there. Love you guys, he said while he bear-hugged both of us at the same time when he answered the door. Rocco became happy instantly. It had been a decade since the four of us were together. Leif had started his family earlier than Rocco or me. Brewster hadn’t gotten married or had any children. Leif was dedicated to his law practice while Rocco was fighting fires and raising his family. I had relocated and was teaching in Carolina while raising my brood. Leif and Brewster still saw each other, but not as often as they once had back in the old neighborhood. I think the effusive greeting was also because Leif was drunk already. It wasn’t even halftime of the Giants’ game.

Happy birthday! Brewster shouted from his tiny hall behind Leif, though he didn’t have to raise his voice because his entire apartment was about the size of my living room in Carolina.

Thank you, Brewster, Rocco said. The room was suddenly warm; the memories began to take shape. In a few minutes, we were roaring laughing about our old times in the old neighborhood in Queens.

Remember the rooftop parties? Leif asked.

Oh, yeah, I said.

That night we saw Venus and Jupiter at the same time, Rocco said.

That’s right! We were talking about Voyager 2.

You got the best memory of anyone I know, Adam, Leif said.

There’re three reasons why I do, standing before me.

We were having a ball, or so I thought. Rocco passed me on the way to the bathroom. He asked me if I could understand one word either Leif or Brewster were saying. I didn’t reply. He closed the door of the bathroom, leaving me alone to determine how both Brewster and Leif had gotten so drunk so fast.

Rocco returned to his chair beside Leif’s, where they began to get involved in the big game. I was able to accomplish what I had set out to do and comfort my old friend, Brewster.

So, we’ll go see your dad tomorrow, I said.

No. Chemotherapy tomorrow.

Oh, okay. So, there’s still hope, I said, assuming that if they were still treating Brewster’s father, he might recover.

No. It’s the end, Adam. They’re just sticking to the routine. It’s what happens at the end.

I’m sorry, man.

He pulled me into the kitchen, though he was as high as a kite, and he thanked me.

Look, you’re here. I needed you to be, and you are. And then we embraced. Then we returned to the living room and the game.

I need to tell you guys something, Brewster said. Leif turned toward him. Rocco half turned so he could keep an eye on the game. One of my buddies killed himself.

I was immediately alarmed, because Brewster’s brother had done the same thing in the summer of 1974.

Who was he? I asked.

You don’t know him. An officer I worked with. He shot himself in the head over a girl. I was part of the detail for the funeral.

That’s terrible. Rocco shook his head slowly.

Yeah. I kept seeing his head in the coffin after the funeral when I was driving home. Couldn’t get over the image. All I could do was imagine the hole in the back of his head because there was no indication from the front of his head, just a view of him peacefully sleeping—and how I wished he were. But he wasn’t at peace, and he wasn’t asleep.

I’m so sorry you went through that, Brewster, Rocco said.

Yeah, I saw his head again and again. I started sobbing, I couldn’t drive. I pulled over. Thank God Pop answered my call.

When did this happen, Brew? I asked.

In September. That just made it worse. The whole funeral was full of cops, thinking about 9/11 because just about all of us had been there. Then we were there the next year, too, you know.

I didn’t know what he meant about the next year. I held back and just listened to him since his heartache about his dead friend was now compounded by the imminent death of his father.

Pop calmed me down, Brewster said, and then I was able to drive over to him at his house and he comforted me, and I was okay. But he thought I should see somebody. Talk to somebody.

Like your shrink? Leif asked.

It was news to me that Brewster had a shrink, and it most certainly was news to Rocco. Still, it made sense that Leif knew while we did not. He and Brewster shared a close friendship even before we meet Brew on the rooftop long ago.

Yeah. Brewster said. So, I did. I explained what happened. My doctor gave me an antidepressant to see if it would help. It’s working. He did not appear bothered that Leif had shared this personal information. If it weren’t for medicine and alcohol, he would probably have been pissed.

Whatever you need to do to get well, right? Good, I said. But I didn’t feel good about the anti-depressant or the doctor. Rocco and Leif’s faces didn’t show me anything about how they took the news.

I’d been seeing this same doctor when I was a boy and my brother died. He’s a friend. I trust him is what I mean.

I didn’t know Brewster when his brother died. I wondered why he hadn’t told me about getting therapy.

He knows you well, Leif said. He knows how to help you.

The anti-depressant is helping me stay centered.

I didn’t like the idea of Brewster, my heavy-drinking friend, with mind-altering drugs. I wonder, though, Brewster, how do you get through a day of work and moving and traveling while medicated? I mean, are you clear-headed when you take the anti-depressant?

It’s working, Adam.

Brewster was beginning to get irritated. I didn’t say anything further. I didn’t want to be intrusive; I didn’t want the evening to end on a bad note. I had seen this with Brewster many times. He would be willing to go only so far talking about his personal life. I had to be content with how far he was willing to go.

Our host returned to the kitchen to watch over his simmering lamb stew. This gave Leif the opening I think he was looking for.

Leif turned to me, Ask him about the painkillers he’s getting from our old friends. Then he turned back to the game. Rocco turned to me and shook his head slightly. Maybe this was the reason Rocco didn’t want to come to see Brewster.

Brew called to me from the kitchen. What do you think about my dough? He turned a ball of bread dough out of a bowl, nearly dropping it on the floor.

Nice job. You sure know what you’re doing. When did you and Leif start drinking, was it last night?

Brew laid the dough down on the counter.

I got some painkillers from a friend. I was only supposed to take three, but I took four.

Oh, okay. How many did Leif take?

You know, he won’t even talk to me about them. He won’t even talk to me about my anti-depressant!

Well, you know how he feels about drugs. And you know that I share a lot of his views.

Brew shut down when I said that. It was uncomfortable in the tiny kitchen, now. He turned his back on me and rolled out his dough.

I made my way back to the football game. I did not ask Brewster for specifics about the anti-depressant he was taking or the painkillers he was taking or the friends who were providing them. I had witnessed my mother’s struggles with drugs like lithium way back in the seventies when I was a boy. She had a nervous breakdown. It had frightened me out of using any kind of drugs. The experience had made me a mature kid, but now I was a naïve man.

I didn’t know what it was like for Ma in the past or for Brewster in the present. I didn’t know what it would be like to have some heartache that made me search for help from a drug. I thought of Brewster keeping vigil at the hospital for his father while grieving for his friend who killed himself back in September. I imagined he was getting through life the best way he could.

Still, I was anxious about Brewster’s medication because I am reluctant to trust chemicals that work on the brain. Leif was frightened by drugs