dmseay

She wore a dress for the first time in years. It was a black dress with red roses sewn on to it; came down low exposing cleavage. He told her she never looked prettier. Said it was like he was falling in love all over again.

It’d been years since they got dressed up and went out. Used to go out all the time until the kids came. Two boys and one girl. Kept them busy for twenty something years. High School, college, one boy joined the Marines. Fought in the Iraqi war. Stationed all over the world. Guess you could say he’s a lifer. The other two got married, had kids of their own. The grandparents spoiled them. That’s what grandparents do.

So, over dinner, he held her hand. Told her he’d been hiding something from her all these years. Said when they got back home he’d show her. Said it was tucked away in a cubby hole out in the garage. She kept asking about it all throughout dinner. He just kept saying, Paris. Someday we’ll be in Paris.

When they got home he took her out to the garage. The musty smell ’bout knocked her off her feet. He lifted a picture of Humphrey Bogart that was hiding a hole. It was Rick from Casablanca protecting his secret. Here’s looking at you kid.

The old man stuck his wiry hands in the hole and started pulling out wads of cash rolled in rubber bands. There were twenties, fifties, hundreds, a ton of them, like manna falling from the sky. He said to her, Let’s get out of here.

That night they both slept soundly after making love. They held each other tightly like they were kids. And, when they woke up, they made love again. Swearing to her, Soon we will kiss atop the Eiffel Tower. Soon. She buried her gray hair into his flabby chest and said, Yes my love. Yes.

And, so they did.

He drove out to the state line; one side Indiana, the other Ohio. Out where Allen County turns into Defiance.

When he was younger he used to come over here and buy beer. They’d pile into the old Ford and take off for cheap thrills; Mickey’s Big Mouth, Rolling Rock, Falstaff; whatever was on sale. It all tasted the same when they were puking their guts out on the side of the road. He remembered those nights. Thought about them with great fondness. Just him and his girl, who’d become his wife, along with their friends piled into the back of the pickup truck.

Those were Autumn nights. Sky pitch black, the smell of freshly laid asphalt, guided by stars. Brightly lit stars leading them to the river. Drinking while seated on the banks. Doing what boys and girls do in the dark; it’s a wonder no girl came up pregnant. Precautions were taken.

And they’d head home after midnight. Porch lights on, curtains open. Parents waiting up for their juvenile delinquents. Didn’t bother to walk the girls up to the front doors. Quick kisses were stolen in driveways. Blouses were buttoned up.

He drove out to the state line; one side Indiana, the other Ohio.

There was always somethin’ there ‘tween ’em. He’d look up from the want ads and there’d she be; hoverin’ over him with a pot of coffee ready to pour. It was like it was magic; she could read him and he could read her. Timing is everything; right?

So, they sat at the kitchen table. Him, poking holes in his scrambled eggs. She, spreading grape jelly onto a piece of dry white toast. This ritual had been goin’ on for a number of years. Went on when their son and daughter were in grade school. Went on after they graduated. It was like it was a ceremony or somethin’. He’d be dressed in his work clothes while she stood over the stove in her white robe that ran all the way down to her blue ankles. They’d chat a little bit. Ask how the other slept. She never complained of his snoring. He never said a word ’bout her gasping for air. They tolerated these annoyances.

There were times when he felt like leavin’. Headin’ out to Durango, or maybe El Paso. But, she could read his mind. She knew when these thoughts occurred. They usually took place after a week of drinkin’. Or, when he’d managed to slip and fall into bed with another woman. She knew ’bout that also.

Sometimes he had dreams of takin’ off to Montana or Wyoming. He had dreams of layin’ a lasso on a calf’s head; right ’round her neck and pull then tag it like real cowboys. She’d look at him with those blue eyes when these thoughts crossed his mind. She didn’t have to say a word. He’d just take his filled Thermos and give her a kiss on the cheek.

You have a good day now, she’d say, You hear?, He’d give her a kiss on the other side and walk out the door without sayin’ a word. Just like a real cowboy.

He remembered his past. All the way back to when he was a kid in Arkansas picking plums during the midnight hours. Looking for the perfect one.

The moon was high and full, shining down on wet grass that yellowed in the coolness of the Fall. This was the last of summer’s harvest. Soon the trees would be bare. Plums, pears, and apples would fall to the ground. Birds peck at rotten fruit.

As he picked in the orchard, shadows would follow. Winds would blow. And, coyotes would howl. Old spirits that never left. Words could be heard. Ghosts telling stories of better times. Before blood was tilled into the ground. Battles fought and lost on this land. On this land.

If he could speak to the ghosts one more time. Go back to his childhood. Back when magic occurred. Now days there were no spirits. The orchards have been replaced by golf courses, condos, resort packages. How he wished to live in the past. Autumn’s crisp days are now Indian summers. And the days move fast. Magic no longer. The fruit is not as sweet.

She saw him ‘cross town over on North Avenue. ‘Bout where Milwaukee and Damen run into each other. He was walking out of the check cashing place; just got paid; there was a jingle in his step.

First thing he did was walk into the diner, she looked on from her old Dodge that was parked in front. She watched as he skid into a booth real smooth like and ordered coffee from the skinny waitress with her brunette hair piled high. He held up two fingers. Meaning, he wanted two creams and two sugars. He talked to her with a smile. He talked to every woman with a smile.

Sat there real cool like. Looked over the paper; he liked to look at the pictures in The Sun Times; particularly the sports pages in the back. He never was one for reading. He watched the world go by in pictures. Pictures of the president shaking hands with some foreign leader, pictures of Sox players celebrating at home plate, color photos of cop cars on the scene. He’d read the headlines then look at the pictures. Had his whole life.

The woman in the car then saw the waitress bring over his food. Looked like some kind of beef Manhattan with mashed potatoes and a brown gravy dripping off the side. He ran his finger on the edge of the plate then licked it. Stuck the whole thing in his mouth then pulled it out. Like a toddler with a pacifier.

She then drew up enough courage to go in and see him;checked her lipstick in the mirror, powdered her cheeks, put some more mascara ’round those pretty brown eyes. As she got out of her car a couple of homeboys took notice; said she looked good enough to eat. She smiled as she opened the door to the diner. They kept on walking.

He saw her coming his way. He knew what she wanted. You got it?, she asked as she floated her bottom over the torn plastic seat. He didn’t look up at her; kept eating. Hey…I’m talking to you. You got my money?, she grabbed his wrist. He nodded his head.

I would have brought it to you tomorrow, he said, Told you I was good for it.

Tomorrow it would’ve been gone, she laughed. He pulled out five twenties from his pocket. Counted them off to her. Then laid the money in front of the short blonde.

I would say thank you, but, it’s been almost six months.

I got caught up with some things. Bills, unexpected. It’s always something.

Yes, it’s always something.

They looked at each other. He started to stroke her hand then she pulled away.

Best be going, she said.

Hey, no hard feelings.

She slid across the plastic and began to laugh. Yeah, no hard feelings.

They sat there in darkness on a park bench. She held onto the flowers he had given her earlier that evening; a mixed bouquet of different colors; gold, rust, yellow, with green leaves wrapped in plastic. She had never got flowers before, made her feel wanted, loved. On this night. On this night.

He took her by the hand and led her over to the swing set where she took a seat. The tall boy of sixteen pushed from behind. She felt herself climbing the sky; reaching for the sliver of silver hiding behind clouds as stars looked on.

She held onto the chains with both hands, dropping the flowers to the wet Autumn ground. A breeze blew up her dress and cooled her long legs. Flip flops were kicked off her painted feet. The blonde girl with curls began to laugh. She asked to go higher, then higher, and higher still. The boy pushed with all his might and watched as she jumped from the swing and flew to the yellowing grass.

You alright?, he asked. Took quite a jump there girl. Did you break anything?, he reached out for her.

The young lady reached out her hands and held onto his. He lifted her up and carried her back over to the bench. Quietly they sat there. Neither made a move. He reached over to kiss her as she leaned into him. They felt each other, hands moving all over. The hazed blue park lights went out making it hard to see. They decided it was time to go home.

They walked down Broadway and he stood next to her as the porch lights came on. They kissed one more time and then he told her goodnight. She smelled her flowers and exhaled, wishing him a goodnight as well.

Both slept well that night. For Autumn, that most magical time, had begun.

He sat at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and his cellphone in the other. Black oil streaks were wiped on his shirt and pants. Mike checked down the hall to make sure Jesse was asleep. He could hear her snoring away as he opened the door and then closed it back ever so gently.

Mike’s cellphone was humming when he got back in the kitchen. The name across the screen was Michelle. He hit decline and began texting her.

Can’t talk right now. I’ll call you tomorrow in the morning sometime, he walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out a Budweiser can from the twenty-four case. Now a text appeared. It was from Michelle telling him she was thinking of him. Wanted to say she enjoyed his company the other night. Mike grinned.

He text her back, I had a good time too. Got to get some sleep.

Do you want to get together this weekend?, she asked.

Can’t do it. Told you I got a girlfriend.

So, this was just a one time thing?

I wouldn’t say that, Mike quickly typed, We just have to play it cool.

I see. You think you’ll ever break up with her?

I might. She’s crazier than ten whores on crack.

I’ve heard that about her. People say she talks to herself in public. Carries on full conversations with herself. I’ve heard too that she’s a witch. Practices all kinds of magic and spells.

Where did you hear that from?

It’s all over town. How long you been seeing her?

About half a year now.

Do you love her?

Nope.

Good. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Kisses and hugs.

Goodnight.

And with that he began deleting the dialogue. He was real quick about checking to see if there were any other messages on his phone. Like ones from Cassie, or Julia. These were two more women in town he just couldn’t keep his hands off of.

There were no other texts besides the one from Jesse earlier telling him she couldn’t wait up for him tonight. Had to get some sleep. He kept that one on there.

Mike sat there playing with the sharp tab on the can of Bud. He took a swig and went over and grabbed another. He looked around, dishes piled up, dust on everything, clothes unfolded on the couch. Thought, it’s a good thing she’s good in bed, and laughed a quiet chuckle.

And Jesse was good in bed. She gave making love her all. When she loved someone, she was in it all the way. Even at times when she didn’t love the man she gave it her all. It was just the way she was. Always ready for action. Sex to Jesse was a release from all that was wrong in her life. While making love she felt no depression, no anxiety, and no regrets. However, the next morning would show a different woman. After one night stands she’d have all of those symptoms, yet wanted more. More men holding on tightly to her. More men telling her lies. And when she couldn’t get it, regret would sit in. Jesse would walk home from houses, apartments, sleeping rooms, hotels, motels, and backs of cars with her head hanging low, looking at the sidewalk beneath her feet. Never did she cry, nor scream out at the world, she just would get real quiet and walk quickly with her arms folded over her paunch.

Used? She never felt used. She figured she got as much as they did from the experience. She just would feel unsatisfied. She wanted more. Always more.

The Autumn breeze stirred ’round her neck as she walked through the woods. The moon shined brightly as cicadas, owls, and whippoorwills sang into the evening. Jesse followed their rhythms. It was as if they were a jazz trio playing in an outdoor venue; bottles of red and white wines placed in picnic baskets along with various cheeses and meats. Women dressed in soft sheer dresses as their men poured glasses to guests seated with them under the stars; Jesse had a vivid imagination.

She kept walking under the darkening skies. All day long the young woman had done nothing but slept. She hadn’t eaten, or, had any coffee. Just woke up in the evening time with one thing on her mind; get to the forest. Let the spirits guide you.

There was no doubt that she was in one of her depressions. She really didn’t want to do anything but stay in bed and dream. It was out of necessity that she got out of bed and headed out to her magical place. So she walked along the path by the light of the moon. She could hear the stream slapping rocks while she waited for a ghost to appear. Some friendly spirit to talk to about her troubles in life. Jesse honestly got more out of talking to the spirits than she did from talks with her analyst. She listened to the spirits. Was honest with them. They made her feel free to discuss anything. The same could not be said for the psychologist. There was a wall there between them. A wall where honesty could not break through. A completely disheartening affair. These bi-weekly sessions left her more depressed than when she walked in. Whereas the talks with the spirits placed her in a mood of understanding. Belief in magic calmed the voices in her head quite a bit. A voice, her own voice. Speaking to her in a whisper. Sometimes the voice told her to kill herself. Other times the voice talked to her about drinking. Drinking for long periods of time. Forgetting her troubles for the time being and caving into another world. An unhealthy world. A dark place. One she would have to crawl out of.

And the spirits. Always spoke to her of kindness, generosity, they spoke to Jesse with words of love. The spirits dissuaded her from taking her life. They encouraged her live freely. So, when she could, she listened to the spirits.

There were three ghosts that talked to Jesse. Surrounded by tall oaks and pines, the spirits met with the brown eyed woman in a one on one manner. They never came to her as a group. Always as individuals.

The spirit she met with on this night was an old ghost, a farmer who tilled this land years ago by horse. His was a common sense approach.There was no wall.

Jesse spotted him under the maple tree carving an apple. The first time she’d seen him he was smoking a pipe. However, he was always under that purple maple. Always ready to talk.

You look like you been in a world of trouble, the ghost said to her as he took a slice of apple and offered her a piece. Been sad lately have ya?, she nodded her head yes. Why’d ya take so long to come and talk with me ’bout it, Jesse shrugged her shoulders. Have a seat.

She sat down in the cool pile of leaves under the tree. He bent down in a squat position. What seems to be the case?, he asked.

Same as always. I just get so sad, she said. And I think negatively. I do stupid things.

Like what?

Like run down a highway naked.

You don’t say. I never figured you one to do that. But, let me ask ya. Was there a freedom in it?

There was. I felt like for a brief time my sadness was gone.

Still taking that medicine?

Yes. It helps. Not as much as talking out here does, but, it helps.

The old ghost started to turn and walk away. She asked him where he was going? Nowhere, he replied. Nowhere. Listen to me young lady. Soon your life will be over. In a flash you’ll move onto the next life. Take your time. Don’t do anything rash, he smiled. I’ll see you around kiddo, and he blew her a kiss.

And, the song of the cicadas grew louder. So did the bass notes of the owl. And, the whippoorwills hummed along as the moon shined down on all.

It was late when he got home. She was in the front room with the curtains open; staring out at Highway 31. Watching Peterbilts, Kenworths, cowboys, and cars driving east and west under dark skies with a sliver of the moon shining a yellow color.

You want some coffee, Jesse was asked. I gotta full pot from this morning, she just shook her head as she turned off the lamp and headed into the kitchen.

Go out tonight?,Mike was looking in the refrigerator, Cream, cream,we got any cream? he asked. She said no, just heavy cream, but she needed that for Sunday lunch. Guess I’ll have to do with milk, he drank from the jug before adding it to his coffee. So, I asked if you went out tonight?, Jesse looked at him with the refrigerator door open and said, I said no.

Didn’t say anything. You just shook your head.

Same as saying it ain’t it?

I guess, he sipped his drink. Just trying to get you to talk. That’s all.

Don’t feel like talkin’. Sometimes I just like the silence, she sat at the kitchen table. You smell. You smell like pussy. Been out with your other girl tonight? He shook his head and began washing his hands in the sink. Have ya? Been with some woman tonight? With his back turned to her he said no. See, I know when you been with someone. Bar closes at two and here it is a quarter til four. I’ll bet that truck of yours just reeks of her. Was she thin? Tall? Blonde?

I haven’t been with no one. Getting home late ’cause I stopped at the gas station and talked to Tom. Had a real interesting discussion ’bout the moon.

That so?, he laughed.

Yes. He said by the end of the month we’ll have a full one. And that’s when all hell breaks lose.

That when the crazy ones get crazier?, opened the fridge and peeked inside.

Yes. It’s when the mad ones go really mad.

Like me?

Honey. That ain’t what I’m saying.

I was walking down the highway naked Mike. You don’t get crazier than that. Now do ya?, she grabbed a slice of watermelon. Took a bite and spit a seed at him. Give me credit where credit is due, Jesse spit another seed in his direction.

Just gonna have to clean that up, he said with a snicker. She spit another seed at him and they were both laughing. He went over to her and held her.

Smell. You smell like a bar. Beer and smoke.

Well which is it? First you said I smelled like pussy. Now you said a bar.

You can smell like both.

I ‘spose, Mike smiled. I ‘spose.

Thunder rolled in the dark clouds and streaks of lightening could be seen for miles. The rain that was promised hadn’t come yet. Jesse sat out on the back porch waiting to be cleansed.

It’d been awhile since a good storm had hit town. The farmers in the region complained of drought. Tomato plants had withered up and died. Flowers on the side of Jesse’s house needed tending to as well. Jesse knew this. However, the upkeep was too much for her. Just like inside the house where dishes piled up in the sink and dusting had been placed on permanent hold. The girl just couldn’t get up the gumption to do anything. She was slipping bad in to another bout with depression; another title fight with herself.

All the other symptoms had almost gone. The manic episodes when she was younger had stopped for the most part. Grandiose ideas and opinions of herself had stopped too. But, she couldn’t lick that depression. It kept stirring up inside of her daily with thoughts of suicide and of giving up. She tried to talk about it with Mike, but she couldn’t. People thought she was strange enough. Mike certainly did. And, that was Mike. That was part of the attraction. He liked em a little on the crazy side. Jesse gave him all the crazy he needed.

It was the cocktail of meds that were working as far as the other symptoms were concerned. Throughout the years she had tried every combo. Seroquel, Abilify, Novane and others had just simply made her lethargic. And, in between bouts with lethargy came the mania. Going out every night and catching a man for a turn in the hay, speaking her mind when she didn’t need to, looking for a fight, were just some of the actions she took before the right cocktail was prescribed. Three hundred MG of Welbutrin and six MG. of Vraylar seemed to do the trick. But, she still couldn’t work. Too much going on in her mind. She talked to herself constantly. Slept for most of the day. And, always had to talk herself out of suicide. She knew there would come a day when she couldn’t do that. She knew the depression would win in the end.

Drinking didn’t help. But, that’s the one thing Mike and her had in common. They both liked to get so drunk that they’d pass out after polishing off bottles in the midnight hour. Mike was a pro. All he needed was a hot shower and he was ready to work or play some more. Mike was also disciplined not to drink on the job. Something that Jesse could never get down. Over the course of time she had worked every job in town. And it was the same story. She’d show up drunk, get fired, and try to get work somewhere else only to repeat the scenario over and over again.

She was lucky enough to get disability for her Bipolar disorder. She lived on a little over a grand a month. And yes, most of it went towards booze.

And tonight she sat on the back porch watching the gods play in the sky. She took a sip of her cocktail and took in all that she could from the lightning. Jesse thought it was a source of power for her. She thought it’s energy flowed through her body. Soon as the rain fell she would dance in it for hours. Laughing and carrying on like a mad woman possessed. This to her was magic. It was magic out of a bottle poured into her and on her. For a million years she wished it would rain.