BLANCHE - Pt. 12

One frosty winter day while on lunch break, I’m overwhelmed with the desire to call Blanche.  It surely has something to do with the fact that I’ve just gotten my hair cut by Carmen, a spirited little Latino gal who never fails to remind me of Blanche:  Both are dark-haired and striking and both possess a vivacious laugh and melodic cadence of speech.

Anyhow, Carmen has just told me that tonight is a big night for the Latino community at large.   Seems that the most popular Spanish soap opera in the world is airing it’s FINAL EPISODE.  She can’t WAIT for this workday to end so she can go pick up some Pio-Pio for the family, take the phone off the hook and snuggle up in front of the tube for what promises to be a cliffhanging, nail-biting, HUM-DINGER of a finale. 

So once I get back to my office, I dial Blanche’s number.  I’m all keyed up, thinking how PROUD he’ll be of me for having this bit of privileged, cross-cultural information.

“Hello…”  It’s Blanche, but he sounds awful.  Sad, sorrowful and weary.  

Me: “Blanche.  What is it.”

I am completely unprepared for the heartrending outpouring of grief that follows.

Tearfully, he tells me that he’s had a relapse.  He’s been on a 3-day bender. 

Me: “Okay, you just calm down Hiram.  Are you alone?”

Blanche: “No.  My mom is here with me.” 

Me: “Good. Listen - I’m gonna get out of work early and I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

Blanche: “You’re coming all the way to Bay Ridge?”  He’s living there now.

Me: “What, suddenly Brooklyn is MARS???  Sit tight, I’m coming.”

I call Chris, swing into the city to pick him up first and we truck it on over to Hiram’s place.  His mom answers the door.  Big, sad blue eyes.  Blanche’s eyes in blue.   I hug her, and she’s kinda stiff.  Flustered, apologetic, embarrassed.  Exactly how my own mother would be if this were happening to me.  She points the way to the bedroom.

Blanche is sitting up in bed.  Head shaven, a little pale but honestly he doesn’t look half-bad.   He gives me and Chris such gargantuan hugs that I’m flooded with relief.  He’ll be okay.

His story pours forth:  A small tumor was recently discovered near his collar bone.  The lymphoma is back.  He needs another course of chemo.  One fragile evening, he hooks up with a friend who he thought was in recovery, but who in fact has been using again.  Blanche is at a low ebb and so disgusted with everything at that point, he ends up getting high.  And now he just can’t forgive himself. 

Thing is, he speaks of the tumor and the chemo as tho’ they are inconveniences that he will power thru.  The thing that has him completely devastated is the fact that he got high again, after all of his years of hard-won sobriety.  He doesn’t know how he will ever be able to face his friends in recovery, people whom have heard his inspirational lectures and witnessed him in action – at the top of his game.

Blanche: “I threw it all away, honey.  I took it and JUNKED it and now it all MEANS NOTHING.” 

Me: “You can’t say this, and I will not LET you say this.  It’s just not TRUE, Hiram!  All the good work you’ve done still has the same meaning.  You’re still the same person who’s been sober for YEARS now, and who inspires people enough to save their LIVES.  You slipped up, 3 little days out of your life.  It sucks, but SO WHAT?  You’re not gonna KEEP slipping up, right?”

Blanche: “But how can I face people now?”

Me: “The same way you’re facing ME!   You’re human!  WOW, so you’re not a super-hero after all!    I know sometimes it seems like you are – even to me - but hey, as a wise man once said: Guess what?  At the end of the day, we all shit behind two shoes!” 

Boy, I really pulled that one out of a hat, but it gets a laugh out of him. 

Me: “The thing that amazes ME is the fact that you haven’t reached for a drink before this, after everything you’ve been thru.  Not that I’m encouraging you, now…”

I notice his glance hovering to the T.V. set across the room, and I realize that the BIG FINALE of that Spanish soap opera is about to start.  Blanche’s mom is all serious, already staring penetratingly at the screen and it’s only the credits. 

Excellent!  My ACE IN THE HOLE!!  

I bluster: “OH, RIGHT!  THIS IS THE FINAL EPISODE!”

Blanche, his mother and Chris all look at me stunned, like: How the hell do YOU know about this show?

I quickly tell them about my haircut appointment with Carmen, and about how that’s the reason I ended up even calling Blanche today.   

Blanche looks at me and takes my hand solemnly, sez: ‘God knew I needed you today.’  

I feel a little shiver.

Then we all settle in and watch the soap opera.  I have no idea what the hell is going on, but it hardly matters.  It’s a damn good show.      * * * * * *