Chapter 3
"I was worried sick you asshole! Why did you hang up one me yesterday? I called you at least fifteen times after that, you shit!"
Mac's call to Jeanette from the detox center was short and to the point. He politely asked her to come pick him up for a ride home and told her he would tell her everything when she got there.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," pleaded Mac. "Remind me what I told you yesterday, I only vaguely remember calling you."
"You told me you screwed up big time, that you were pretty sure you hit somebody from behind and took off! I heard something maybe about cops, and you hung up!"
"That's pretty much all I can tell you now, unless you want to hear about my latest night at the drunk tank. I do know I went to Jose O'shea's around noon to get some food in me, and honestly, I did not sit there and pound the booze. I clearly remember being there and drinking about seven glasses of beer, leaving about four, and that's where my memory gets fuzzy. I barely remember hitting a car and absolutely nothing from that point until I got home. I do remember taking a left from Alameda and Union where the accident happened onto Union and figure I must have zigzagged on the side streets to my apartment complex. Damn Jeanette, it was a beautiful Sunday afternoon and I'm blacked out driving drunk fleeing the scene of an accident on side streets where there must've been kids playing somewhere." For the first time since regaining consciousness this morning Mac finally had the sobriety and enough sense to contemplate the seriousness of actions, the selfishness. So easily a child's life could have tragically ended caused by him while completely being unaware the driving he was doing while very intoxicated. The consideration to think anything concerning the driver of the car he rear ended had yet to enter his thoughts. Knowing that he had awoken at the drunk tank and not in a jail cell convinced Mac that all was well with the other driver and no further thoughts were entertained.
"Jesus, Mac! Do you know how lucky you are? You could have easily killed someone! You asshole, why didn't you call me for a ride home? Do you know how damn worried I was after you hung up? I must have called you back twenty times last night, loser! Why didn't you call and come pick me up so I could join you, you dick! I would've gone with you, jerk! Why didn't you call me and tell me to come pick you up? You know O'shea's is one my favorite places, dilrod! I would've gone with you! What the hell am I going to do with you Mac! You ditch me, go out drinking yourself mindless, stupid enough to drive, hit someone, and think you'd be able to get away with it by taking off from the accident! There goes your license for God knows how long! Didn't you learn your lesson the first time! You're gonna have to go through all that crap again! What about your job? Second DUI since you've been there, they'll put up with only so much bullshit and risky behavior from any worker! Have you thought about that yet?"
This was the Jeanette Mac most admired and respected. No beating around the bush, straight to the pissed off point. Mac wasn't a person to like the "there, there, poor baby" crap in a situation such as this, and Jeanette wasn't the type of women to give it in a situation like this. Her raw emotions seamlessly growling through sentences being voiced with a crescendo culminating with an abrupt, scary silence and death stare was always appealing to Mac. He needed this to subjugate his demons to a near uxorious state. But in Mac's eyes Jeanette's greatest attribute was her fondness for and ability to drink and drink a lot without becoming a giggling, embarrassing, immature spectacle when doing so when the two would go out to one of the few neighborhood bars they frequented. Jeanette loved