dmseay

Sometimes, there’s no sense in trying, he said. It’s broke. You can’t fix it, he told her. People try every day. They wind up making it worse. Ends up in pieces, he looked out the window at their son wheeling around on his tricycle in the yard. He’ll understand.  Not now, but later. He’ll get it, the husband lit a cigarette with a shaky hand. 

Years from now, she said. It’ll take him years. 

Yeah.

Abandoned.  He’ll feel left behind.

We gotta do this. It’s at that point. They both nodded their heads. He looked out the window at the kid again. This time, he was drawing circles in the dirt, talking to himself. Singing a nursery rhyme.  Should we tell him? he asked.

No. I can’t say goodbye.

They left things behind. A couch, bed, clothes, small television, box of Graham Crackers. The couple walked out to the truck and drove away.

Pictures from magazines taped to  walls. Photographs of women in swimsuits, half naked, some biting their bottom lip. Carpets with blood stains on them. Smells of cat piss throughout the house. Twenty felines circling an empty food dish. He sits on a wooden stool, smoking hand rolled cigarettes one after another.

Do you remember when dad drove us up to Cave City to look at diamonds? he asked himself. We all piled into the station wagon and got on the highway to go look at them. Shiny rocks of red, blue, and yellow. None of them were clear, he whispered.  Maybe they weren’t real diamonds.  Just rocks.

Dad said they were rare gems. Said you couldn’t find them nowhere else. Just in Arkansas. The five kids looked on in amazement. Sparkling rocks made them dream of riches. Riches they never touched. 

Nothing is real, the old man said. Just illusions. This, he looked around, this isn’t real. No, it is not. It’s just my perception of what is real, he laughed.

People lie.

There’s nobody out there, he said. Absent. Been missing now for weeks. Used to come out at midnight. Could see his outline in the moonlight. You’d hear his feet crunching on leaves. Now. Nothing. It’s just blank out there. No movement. No sound. Just hear semis in the distance over on 41, he closed the blinds, lit a cigarette. 

He’ll be back.

When? And in what form?

He’s a ghost right now. An apparition. One day, he’ll come here and be in human form. Physical. You’ll be able to touch him. Just like they did two thousand years ago when he walked this earth.

I don’t believe it. I’m beginning to think he’s a figment of our imaginations, he poured two cups of coffee. Offered one to his friend. Opened the blinds one more time. Nothing.

Why are you so concerned about this? He’ll come back when he wants to. When his father says it’s the right time.

He made a promise. I never break a promise. 

You think it’s too late? The whole world has gone to hell in a handbasket. Things don’t matter anymore. Maybe they never did.

Yeah. Maybe, he crushed out his cigarette on the top of a Coke can. I’m going to stop looking. Stop waiting. I’ve waited now for weeks. Months.

Maybe it wasn’t him. Could’ve been something else. Midnight plays tricks on you. You don’t get enough sleep. You begin to see things. Things that aren’t there.

Right. Just seeing things. Life will do that to you. Fool you. Turn your head around.

A dog barked.

He used to love early mornings. A coffee cup sitting on the patio table. Some whiskey poured in for good measure. 

Tall grass waved in the breeze. Sand leading out to the lake was still cool on calloused feet as light broke darkness. A kid’s castle destroyed by morning’s tide.

I used to watch from my bedroom window. Sometimes, I could hear him talking. Mumbling about how it used to be. Days of war. A flag flown overhead.

In afternoons, hot dogs were grilled. White smoke going up to the heavens. A new pope had been elected, the old man said. Pope Grandpa the 1st, he proclaimed. Then he he’d bless us with his steady hands. We all laughed. Highball glasses replaced coffee cups.

A bonfire on the beach was our nightly ritual. Grandmother and Grandfather sitting on folding chairs sinking into the sand. Singing old songs.  The ones Sinatra sang. Burnt wood left behind.

Down the hall at midnight, I’d hear him crying, talking out loud. Saying, one day, this will all be over. One day.

A hunter followed me to Walden Pond, where tall oaks casted shadows, and pine needles covered the ground.

I heard him behind me on I-95 going south to Baltimore only to turn around and head north to Philadelphia where statues in parks whispered my name.

He chased me in New York all over town, from the Bronx Zoo to Washington Square. Yelled at me on the 6 train going to Brooklyn; a mad man beating a drum. Never was there solace.

In Maine, looking out at the Atlantic, I thought there was peace. His waves crashed against rocks, and seagulls flew over.

I watched as sunlight grew dark. The radio played jazz from another time. WKCR remembered Miles Davis. And so did I. Peace had come. I was no longer hunted.   

Have you ever been to Oakland?

No. Not physically.

Spirituality?

Sort of.

How do you mean?

I fell in love with this woman on the phone. We used to talk every day. Sometimes, till three in the morning. Talking on the phone. A couple of thousand miles away. It’s amazing how hearts reach that far. 

They say Oakland has a lot of crime.

Couldn’t tell you. We didn’t talk about crime. Talked about meeting one day. No more of this phone stuff.

Why didn’t you drive out there?

To Oakland?

Yeah.

Too scared of truth.

She reported the news wearing a red dress. Vehicular homicide on the Southside was the opening story; her mascara was thick. It accentuated her dark eyes.

He wore a blue suit with a yellow tie and an American flag on the lapel. His blonde hair was parted to the side; looked like a strange Ken doll. The anchorman responded with his story about hold-ups on the Westside. No one was killed or injured. Money was handed over in a shopping bag.

The weather girl told of a high covering the Midwest with storms brewing out West, mudslides in California, and tornadoes in Oklahoma. Nine people were reported missing. 

And in sports, White Sox lost again, the smooth Italian said. Will this season ever end?

Pictures at 11:00.

A blood-stained tee-shirt. Dark. Almost black. Funny how colors change. 

He dug up dirt in the backyard. Rich soil, no clay. Ran his fingers through it. Felt the earth. Said, we come from earth, we return to earth. Placed the body of his child down in the hole.

Stars shined down on him. A new day was about to begin. 

The two men drank whiskey and fished off the river bank. Muddy waters were high. Tree limbs floated past them. They fished for catfish but would take anything that hit their lines.

Do you remember that girl in Mississippi? Jimmy asked as he cast his line again. Now, there was a woman, they both laughed. All dolled up wearing a tight red dress. My dad always told me to beware of women wearing red dresses, his friend reeled in a tree branch he’d been pulling on, untangled it, and threw the bobber out into the Kankakee once again. Women down south are better, he said. They’re freer.

You mean easy, Bobby Lee said. Hell. You can walk into any bar in Virginia, Tennessee, even Texas, and walk out with something.

Especially Texas.

Yeah. That’s true.

Women up north are more cautious.  They take their time. Get to know you.

Not too much time, they laughed.  But yeah. Not like Dixie.

The waters rolled swiftly.  Rain clouds formed to the east. They’re all good, Jimmy said. All of them.

Yeah. I suppose so.

They pulled beers from the Styrofoam cooler. Made a toast to women and clanked their cans. Lightening was seen. Thunder was heard.

That’s a goddess, he said. Telling us it’s time to go home.

They always do.

Late spring falls into early summer. Autumn’s leaves mixed in mulch. Soon, swimmers will be swimming in a green lake. Lilly pads float by.

Kids dig in dirt. Parents plant azaleas and lavender. Grills burn charcoal. Smoke rises and dogs salivate.

Dead soldiers remembered by a few. Flags placed at graveside. Small stars and stripes waved at parades. Majorettes march by. A band plays.

This holiday is brought to you by Budweiser.