December 1977. It is the Christmas season again, and the Post Office employees are working 12-hour days and a 7-day week. Most of the mail sorting is done during the night shift, in time for morning deliveries. David is living in the parking lot in an old camper; he does not want to miss a minute of overtime.
It is an unusually cold winter, with mornings spent scraping frost off windshields. The boys: Frank, Chic, Ken, Johnny, and the girl Cathy head for Frank’s van. They have half an hour for lunch. Today’s bottle of French wine for sampling is a Pouilly-Fuisse with a bouquet of citrus, oak, and mineral notes. They are drunks, but fancy drunks. Cathy never expected to be drinking so much, given that her father was an alcoholic who had ruined the family. But here she was, following in his footsteps. Her father was a career Post Office clerk as well. Perhaps this was the same trap he was caught in. Working insanely long hours on the night shift, hanging out with ex-military dudes with PTSD, as he had.
Cathy suffered from PTSD as well, having survived an emotionally and physically abusive childhood and young adulthood. Her coping skills were nonexistent; she drowned her grief in alcohol and occasional marijuana. She made bad decisions in her relationships and career. She could have joined the Navy and would now be training as a nurse. Instead, she was getting drunk with the boys, shooting the breeze.
After the shift, the drinking continued at the local pub. Chic had the owner’s keys, and the place ran on the honor system. While most of the world was barely waking up, the crew was in there drinking Black Russians with breakfast of sausage and eggs, whipped up by Chic. Sometimes they competed to see how many leprechauns they could drink. Shots of Bailey’s Irish Cream and Irish whiskey. The good stuff.
Cathy hung her dreams on Ken’s star, hoping for more than just a friendship. But Ken saw her as one of the boys. It was her own fault for hanging out with them, trying to fit in. She had no skill at being soft and feminine. She hid behind a hard exterior, which a therapist once said was a form of protection. She settled on José, a Puerto Rican workaholic with three jobs and a wife. A bad decision for Cathy.
In January 1977, the coldest winter on record, it snowed in Florida, and David still hung out in his camper in the parking lot. The boys and Cathy would knock on his door to tell him to come back into the building. He’s taking a nap.
Cathy made a decision that would change her life. She decided to leave her abusive home and strike out on her own. The boys supported her 100% and helped her escape, arranging for her to stay with Hilda, another co-worker, until she got back on her feet.
From then on, her life changed, and she regained her self-esteem. She joined AA and ACOA and became a friend of Bill. She got rid of José and figured she’d be better on her own. Now that she was no longer supporting her family, she was able to pay off her bills and even save for frequent vacations to New York City, where she could let loose and party without alcohol. She enjoyed the music, the dancing, and her newfound freedom.
Sometimes, it is good to step off the path you are on; as long as you are still alive, your life can change. You have to make a decision.
GrowingOlderHopeWiser 
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