ERNIE AND ERNESTINA: Searching
Book Two, Chapter 129: Derby Day Dilemma
It’s Derby afternoon. I’m headed to the library when I pass Sam, smoking just outside my building’s rear entrance. He rents the tiny condo I own that’s just off the lobby.
Sam’s about my height, in his early fifties, of sturdy build — he swims — with frosty gray hair that’s always neatly cut. I smile but don’t stop. He’s a solitary guy, not given to stray conversation. But today he calls out a hello, so I walk over to him.
“I’ve just had a spiritual awakening,” I say.
I tell him about my Oaks Day frenzy, my growing awareness of my insanity and addictive behavior, and my decision to stay away from the race track. He bursts into tears.
“What’s wrong?” I say.
“I’ve been drinking for four days. I haven’t eaten in four days. I’m dying.”
I can’t walk away now, but what can I say? What does he mean? Is he really dying?
“My mother won the lottery,” he says. “She was sick only two days and died in the arms of my sister. That’s winning the lottery. My car’s gassed up, and I have nowhere to go. There’s no one who cares. No one to even be around me if I’m sick.”
“Will you call EMS or a hotline?” I ask.
He shakes his head, moves a hand over his stomach. “I’m sick. I feel sick.”
“Do you want carrot soup? I bought it at the farm market.”
“I can’t eat anything. You don’t understand. This is a physical addiction. My body is screaming for alcohol.”
He goes back inside and I continue to the library, but it’s closed for Derby Day. I see Beth, a librarian, who’s emptying the book-return bin. I tell her about Sam. I ask: “In this situation, would you call EMS?”
“He may be headed for alcohol poisoning,” she says. “I’d rather call than not call and later be sorry I didn’t. If we have a situation in the library, I always call.”
I go back home, call EMS, and wait at the rear entrance for an ambulance to show up. Instead, a police cruiser pulls up and a female officer gets out.
“I called EMS,” I tell her. “Where’s EMS?”
“First, we’ll talk to him. First things first.”
Two other squad cars arrive. The three police officers follow me to Sam’s door. I knock. He barely opens it, peeks out.
“Will you talk to these three people?” I say. “They’re here to help you.”
The female officer enters his room.
“Shall I go in, too?” I ask.
“We’ll handle this,” one of the young male cops says. He and the third policeman enter Sam’s apartment. The door closes.
I take the stairs to my place. It’s Derby Day afternoon. Is that why EMS didn’t come? Is every ambulance at the track?
