The Gin and Chowder Club

Isaac laughed, too, clinked his brother’s glass, finished his drink, and looked around for the waitress. Catching her eye, he held up his empty glass, pointed at it, and raised two fingers. The waitress nodded.

Asa woke up with a pounding head the next morning. Never again, he swore, and went in search of some aspirin. He could hear his mother on the phone as he rummaged through the medicine cabinet. He paused to listen. “It’s okay,” she said. “Please tell her we hope she feels better.” Asa leaned on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. She isn’t coming. He stared at his reflection and wondered how he would manage. Doesn’t she know how much I need to see her? Doesn’t she want to see me? Maybe she’s just making this up. Maybe she doesn’t want to see me-or maybe Nate knows and has forbidden her. Asa punished himself with renewed worry. God, if I could only see her, just to know that everything is okay. He fumbled with the bottle, dumped four aspirin into his hand, swallowed them with a splash of water, cursed his brother, fell back into bed, and buried his head under his pillow.

67

On Monday night after he had returned to school, Asa was in his room trying to study when he heard the pay phone down the hall ringing. He heard a door open and someone hurrying to answer it. Then he heard a muffled greeting and footfalls coming back down the hall, stopping outside his door. There was a hesitant knock and a voice. “Phone.”

“Okay, thanks,” he called. Asa’s heart pounded as he walked down the hall. He rarely received phone calls. In fact, he was surprised that the student who had answered it even knew which room he was in. He wondered hopefully if the caller was Noelle.

He picked up the receiver.

“Asa?” It was his father. Asa was disappointed, but his heart still pounded. Why is Dad calling?

“Hi, Dad.”

“Hello, son.” His father’s voice sounded oddly strained.

“Dad, what’s the matter?” Asa’s mind began to race.

Samuel hesitated. “Asa, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” Asa tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “I wish I could be there to tell you this… and I hope you’ll be okay.”

“What is it, Dad?” Asa’s hands began to shake as he pressed the phone against his ear.

“Asa”-he paused-“Martha has died.” Tears welled up in Asa’s eyes as he listened. “This morning your mother called her and she didn’t come. So she went to look for her. She looked all around the downstairs because it’s been so long since Martha had been upstairs. But she couldn’t find her, so she finally went up, and there she found her, curled up on the rug next to your bed.” His father paused, listening. “Asa…are you there?” Tears were streaming down Asa’s cheeks. He tried to answer but only a sob came out. “Son, I’m so sorry. Your mother wanted to drive up there to tell you. She is very upset, as we both are. Martha was such a good dog, and she loved you more than anyone.”

Asa could not believe his ears. How could this be? Just yesterday, he had held her noble black head in his hands and scratched her white muzzle. He pictured her sweet brown eyes, cloudy with age, gazing after him through the window, and he sobbed again.

“Asa, are you okay?”

“Yes,” he choked out.

“We’ve been thinking all day about what would be best, and your mother thinks we should bury her out at the Cape-near the garden. Would that be all right with you?”

Asa nodded and tried to answer.

“I made a wooden box,” he continued, “and we are thinking of going out tomorrow. I know you would want to be there, but you were just home, and we think it’s too far…” Asa nodded again. “Hang on,” his father continued, “your mother wants to talk to you. Here she is.”

“Oh, Asa,” she began. Asa could tell she was crying. “I’m so sorry, honey. Are you okay?”

Asa nodded and tried to answer. His mother reiterated her thoughts, and Asa agreed, but then he couldn’t listen anymore, he just wanted to hang up the phone. Finally, he convinced his mother that he would be okay and slowly put the receiver back in its cradle. He pulled himself together and walked back down the hall to his room. Then he quietly closed the door behind him, leaned against it, and slid to the floor. Burying his face in his hands, he wondered if dogs knew when the end was near. He wondered if Martha had known yesterday when she watched him leave that it was the last time. Again, he pictured her gazing out the window after him, and a new flood of tears streamed down his cheeks. Maybe God was punishing him, he thought. He certainly deserved it. In despair and frustration, he ran his fists through his hair and wondered how much more he could bear.

68

Asa skipped classes the next day. He pulled on the wool jacket his parents had given him and wandered out toward the athletic fields. Dark gray clouds blanketed the sky, and a biting wind scattered about the spits of snow falling. Asa pictured his parents and the task they faced that day, and hot tears welled up again in his red-rimmed eyes. I should’ve gone home. It isn’t too far, he thought. As he walked along, he stumbled upon a footpath that he hadn’t noticed before. The path left the athletic fields and wandered along the main road for a stretch before it turned into the woods at a trail marker. Asa studied the marker and realized that the path was part of the Appalachian Trail. He had often heard about the famous trail, but he’d never realized that it wandered through Hanover. He had also heard of people who had hiked the entire length of the trail, and then he recalled the haggard-looking backpackers he’d seen in town several months earlier. Today, however, it was just a deserted, lonely path in the woods.

Asa hesitated. He had no idea where the trail led. He wasn’t dressed properly; he wasn’t prepared for any mishaps in the woods. If anything happened, no one would know where he was. Still, he was drawn into the unfamiliar woods-into the uncertainty and into escaping the punishing world that had become his life. Asa pulled his collar up, thrust his hands in his pockets, and left the road behind.

At the outset, the terrain was easy and the trail headed west. Asa kept his eye on the markers and made good time. Initially, he hiked along frozen wetlands, but by midafternoon, he passed a sign for Goodwin Forest and the terrain became more difficult. As he hiked, large, wet flakes began to fall, then turned into a heavier mix. It occurred to Asa that he should turn around, but he shunned the thought; he wasn’t ready-he hadn’t learned anything. He was still mired in selfish misery. He grieved the loss of Martha, but even more, he grieved for what he could not have.

Somewhere deep inside, a voice screamed to be heard, trying to tell him that he had it all wrong on this sorrowful day, telling him to set aside his stupid selfishness and give undivided honor to the memory of his beloved dog. Asa trudged along, bent against the bitter, whipping wind, and thought about Martha’s unquestioning faithfulness.

He suddenly stopped and looked around. The tree limbs and the frozen ground were covered with snow and were now indistinct. I’m going to get lost, he thought, and then it occurred to him, Maybe it would be better this way. No more pain and jealousy. No more betrayal and deception. No more loneliness and sorrow. The telling words from Frost’s well-known poem ran through his mind: “These woods are lovely, dark, and deep.” Asa shivered, bowed his head, and pressed on through the squall until finally, just as it began to get dark, he came to a road.