dmseay

They were talking about sin. We’re all sinners, the old man said. Every last one of us, he turned the sound down on the television. The Andy Griffith Show was on. Andy was telling his son that sometimes you gotta stick up for yourself. They both continued watching with the sound down.

I’ve made mistakes. I’ve sinned, said the old man. All too many times. Of course, that’s between me and God. I don’t care about what those crazy Catholics say. About confession to a priest and all that. It gets down to your relationship with Jesus. He paid the price so we don’t have to, he said.

Jesus knows all your sins? boy asked. He knows what you’ve done?

Let’s not get into that boy.

Momma didn’t know, but, the Lord did. Right?

I’m not gonna talk about it, he grabbed a beer from the ice box.

She didn’t know about your galavanting around town? Told her you were at work. Doing something on the third shift. Making over time.

That’s long over boy. Why bring that up? It was in her best interest. It would’ve hurt her too bad. Now. That’s all I gonna say on this topic, he turned the sound back up.

I followed you one night. Saw you leave the bar and walk down Main Street. Then you turned up State. Went into a house with a red light on over the porch. Big sign in the front yard that said Doll House. Waited across the street in Kroger’s parking lot.

That’s enough.

The place was a whore house dad. Saw you go in and an hour later I saw you come out. You walked back to the bar. And, the whole time I was following you, I was crying. Felt like someone punched me in the stomach.

I don’t have to talk about this. I knew you were following me. I felt it. And I prayed for forgiveness. That’s all I had to do. Didn’t owe you any explanation. People make mistakes. Are you perfect?

No. I am not. But, I would never cheat on my wife if I was married. Standards dad. This is about standards. Character. What makes you a man.

How ‘come you never brought this up before?

Tried to forget about it.

And, you never told mom.

No sir. I did not. Same reason as you. I knew it’d break her heart.

That was smart of you, the old man lit a cigarette.

The two sat there watching another episode of Andy Griffith. The old man turned the sound up. Crickets could be heard outside. Boy went to the front door and looked at the moon. The old man just sat there in his chair with his eyes opening and closing. No one sleeps with a clear mind.

There was a shooting star last night. Some would call it a falling star. A million miles away. Shiny thing up in the sky. Moving. We watched till it diminished into nothing. Maybe it burned out. Perhaps it landed over in a field in Nebraska. Maybe China. I held her hand as it moved across the sky. A yellow moon shined down on us. I knew it’d be the last time.

The river glistened in the early morning light. I woke up on the banks of the Ohio. A bottle of wine was knocked over on it’s side in the tall grass. Two glasses. We drank wine in glasses. We had some class about us. A Mexican blanket covered us both; colors of aqua, blue, orange and yellow. I tried to wake her. I tried. She laid there with spit coming from her mouth. Forehead was cold.

I checked her pulse. Nothing there. Tried to listen to a heart beat. There was no rhythm. Her eyes looked up at God. I closed them. Green eyes never to see again. A needle stuck in her arm.

There was a shooting star last night. Some would call it a falling star. She was now a million miles away.

How long you been here? In this place. This. This place, the two men looked at each other. It’s not good. In fact it’s frightening. Both of us here. Maybe forever. Do you believe in eternity? they looked at each other again. Count to ten and close your eyes. When you open them you’ll still be here. We’ll still be here. Did you see a door? he shook his head. No? Nor did I. Have you ever seen such white? Not a cream colored. Just white. Muy blanco, they both laughed. There’s no food. Where can I find food? the one man looked at him and shrugged his shoulders. How long have you gone without it?

I forgot, he said. It’s been so long. You forget about things like food, comfort, the blanket your grandmother made for you. You forget all that.

I suppose so.

Yes. I had a dream last night about food as a matter of fact. A juicy steak. Porterhouse. With the bone in it. I ate every bit of it.

I thought you said you forget all that.

You still dream.

Right.

You just don’t talk about those things. I wouldn’t be talking about it, but, you asked. I don’t long for anything. It was just a dream.

Dreams mean something, he said. It is a wanting. A pure wanting. A desire. You don’t miss anything?

No. I don’t. This is my fate. Our destiny. You’ll accept that. Soon. And one day will be like all the rest. All the same. That’s what you get. That’s what you get. A lifetime of hard work and now this. Maybe I didn’t work hard enough.

What did you do?

Little bit of everything. I moved from job to job. Town to town. Then I wound up here. This place.

I was a….

I don’t want to know what you were. I know what you are now. Here with me. That tells me a lot.

Haven’t the least bit of interest in…

No. I really don’t.

So. We’re stuck here.

Yes.

In this place.

Yes.

There was silence between the two men. Neither spoke again. An eternity in silence. In a white room. Sins being atoned for. In this place.

There’s noise. It’s coming from down the street. Hedge trimmers and lawnmowers. Awakened by hedge trimmers and lawnmowers. Early morning and he was already sweating. No air-conditioner. Windows opened and a warm breeze blows into the rented room. Sheets are soaked. Pillow has salt marks on it. The old man takes a drink of warm beer in a can beside his bed. Vommit is in the trash can.

That noise, he said to the woman beside him. Why must they make that noise? the whore laughed.

I remember when I was a kid in the suburbs. Saturdays those same noises would wake me up. It’s nice, she said. Feels like home.

Autumn will be here soon, the old man scratched his groin. Leaf blowers. Mexicans running leaf blowers, he took another drink of beer. Want some? she shook her head.

How can you drink this early in the morning?

How can I not? he got up and ran water from the faucet in his room. Splashed himself. Used a dirty tee-shirt for a towel. The world is a shit hole, he said. I face it better when I’m drunk. A constant drunk. Never ending, he grinned and then poured water into a small coffee maker. Don’t worry, he said. Salvation is on it’s way, he jumped back into bed and held the woman by the hips from behind. Wrapped his arms ’round her big belly. Started feeling her breasts.

Didn’t you get enough last night? Most guys do it once and then fall asleep.

Not me. No not me, he said. I always have a hard-on. Even in my sleep. It’s always there. It’s like a statue, she laughed.

I wouldn’t go that far, he kissed the back of her neck. You’re the only guy I don’t charge. Does that make us lovers? he held on tighter.

Yes. Yes it does.

I was just wondering, they both smiled.

Life is funny, he said. You never know who you’re gonna wind up with. An artist, a business woman, a stay at home mom, some whore.

What am I?

A business woman, he slapped her on the ass and said, Now go make me some money.

The moon followed me last night. Full. Big and bright yellow. Shining down on us all. No one was near. A whole city asleep. Walking down Broadway. Passed closed bars and boarded up buildings. Houses condemned. Cars up on blocks. A neon light glowing ; blinking, green and red. Gas station. An oasis in the night. Vienna sausages were on sale. Dill pickles and Cheez Whiz. A can of Faygo Red soda. Five dollars left. What’s behind door number two?

Saw a man asleep in his car on Jefferson. Bags of belongings in the back seat. A used rubber on the sidewalk. Moon was still following me. I felt blessed by the light. A man approached me. Asked if I had a buck. I gave him the five.

Rabbit ears were adjusted south. The old man kept playing with them. Moving the antennae north and northwest then southwest before sticking to the south. Still couldn’t get a good picture. Blury lines ran across the small black and white TV. Voices were heard over static. He had a hard time making out what the two were talking about. It was Dean Martin talking to John Wayne. Some kind of western movie on the late show. The old man popped open another beer. Boy sat on the couch; laughing.

What’s so funny, the old man said.

Nothing. Nothing at all.

Doesn’t seem that way. Something got a hold of you, the father said to the son. Are you laughing at me, or, the TV?

Just laughing. That’s all. Just laughing, the boy said. How old is that television set? he asked, getting up and walking towards the ice box. You only got three beers left, he said. Didn’t you go to the store today? Of course not.

You know. You could’ve gone too. I went last time. A real pain, the old man said. Carrying all those bags on the bus. You never offer to help do you? boy opened his beer beside the old man’s ear. That’s real cute isn’t it? You got beer all over the side of my face. How about a little respect. Would it hurt you to be appreciative?

Appreciative?

Yes. Of all that I’ve given you.

Like what?

A place to stay. To lay your head. Christ didn’t even have that. Wandered around all those years; preaching.

It was three years pop. His ministry was for three years. Then they crucified him.

I know the story, the old man said. I used to tell it to you. You don’t appreciate that either.

What?

The crucifixion. Sacrifice for mankind. You’ve got some kind of twisted mind about it. You’re a non-believer.

It’s a fairytale pop. That whole book is filled with fairytales. Supposed lessons for life, he laughed.

What do you think happens when you die?

You die. They bury you or burn you. Nothing. We go back to being nothing. Just a speck of dust, boy got up to adjust the antennae. What? You think we go to some place with golden streets. Mansions, the old man nodded his head. That’s very American of you dad. You think they have a big shopping mall up there too? they looked at each other for a second or two. Boy went back to playing with the antennae. You want some kind of reward. That’s what you want. For all this misery here on earth, you want some kind of reward.

That’s enough.

It’s true.

I said, that’s enough.

You say you worship Jesus, but, you’re expecting a reward. Totally missing the point. Hell, I’m an atheist and I get that.

Get what?

The whole purpose of Christianity. Pretty easy philosophy. Just believe. Accept Christ as you lord and savior.

You don’t know the first thing about it. Think you’re real smart. I believe, he said. I believe. And, I’ll get my mansion on a street of gold.

The two sat there till morning came. They sat quietly. Didn’t say a word. Just looked at the TV with lines running across it.

He didn’t see her. She was hiding in the closet amongst dresses and shirts. Old shoes piled up. Boxes with Christmas decorations in them.

Come out, come out, where ever you are, the young man said. I know you’re here. You never leave, he lit a cigarette. You think I won’t find you? I always find you, he laughed. I got something for you, he took a package out of a bag. I think you’ll like it, he started walking around the trailer. Noticed there was a pot of coffee turned on. Is this fresh brewed? he asked. Did you make this for us? she started breathing heavy. He could hear her as he walked down the hallway. He sat on the bed facing the closet. Are you done with this? This game you play, took a gulp of coffee. I brought you a present. I’m going to lay it right here on the bed. When you feel like coming out, you come out. Hear me? she sat there in darkness.

An hour passed. He had the TV on. Watching Wild Kingdom. Watching how lions protect their cubs. He heard no movement in the back room. Turned the sound down. Poured another cup of coffee. Kept looking at the screen. The picture was coming in funny. Colored lines were running through the jungle; static. The young man got up and adjusted the rabit ears. Pointed them north.

Nothing works ’round here, he said. You notice that? How nothing works. It’s a miracle I got a cup of coffee. Would you just come out here? Open up that box on the bed and come out here, he said. There was no noise. Not a sound.

The television picture came back on. Now they were showing monkeys in their natural habitat. They too protected their young. He heard the closet door open. Heard the ruffling of paper.

You like it? he called back to her. I thought of you when I saw it. Was thinking you’d like it, he made his way back to the bedroom. Try it on, he said. Go on. Give it a twirl, the young girl looked at the dress. She began shredding it with her bare hands. Ripping it in two. Yelling and screaming. Uncontrollably crying.

That’s the thanks I get, the father said. You get back in that closet, he said. Come out when you have a different attitude, she crawled on all fours towards the door. No no. You get back in there. Not dealing with this today, he told his daughter.

He picked her up and placed her back in the closet. Shut the door. He could hear her sobbing as he went back to the front room. The television was blurred again.

Doesn’t anything ’round here work?

Several hours passed. Alone. Sitting at the kitchen table. Contemplating. What’s next? he asked himself. How much worse could it get? the old man continued. He took a calendar down from the refrigerator. Stuck there by a magnet. Got a marker out of the drawer where there were rubber bands, Q-Tips, steel wool pads, junk collected over the years. He started marking off days till his death, or, what he thought would be. Planned it out. Black exes drawn on dates leading up to December, 1st. He wanted one more autumn. One more birthday. His last Thanksgiving. Just one more November and he would call it quits.

October came along with Indian summer. Warm fall days and cool evenings.The old man sat on his front porch and watched the leaves change. Green to yellow. Red to rust. Piles raked up in yards around the trailer park. Young boys placing them in black plastic bags. He remembered when he was able to rake. Dragging the metal comb over the yard. His father paying him a dollar a bag. The old man smiled.

Maybe everyday in heaven is autumn, he thought. Maybe there’s piles of leaves along streets of gold. Is that true God? he whispered. Is my old dog Norman rolling around in them? the old man laughed. Then he was reminded of why he wanted to depart; joints ached, constant coughing, fat gut, lonely days, not being able to remember simple things, like where he placed the newspaper, the year, felt he was losing his mind.

It was no fun getting old. His wife gone, pets passed away, the old man was by himself. Every once in awhile neighbors would check on him. They’d bring a tuna casserole and make small talk about weather, last night’s football game, did he need anything? He always said he was fine. Just fine; sitting in the chill until darkness came.

November went by quickly. Just like life. One day was the 1st, then Thanksgiving was over. His calendar was all used up. December was here. It was time. It was time.

Neither knew what the other wanted. They used to know. Could read each other’s minds. Tell thoughts without words. They communicated with their eyes. He’d look at her, she at him, and they knew. They just knew.

But, now there was no magic. The old married couple would sit in silence each day. Wondering what the other was thinking. They came close to asking, but, would get distracted; a plane would fly above. Crickets chirped outside. A squirrel running around in the backyard. Their minds would wander. Sometimes forgetting the other was in the room. Sometimes asking themselves, Who is this next to me? The answer was always the same. You can be alone without being alone.

There were old black and white photographs throughout the house. Pictures of when they were younger. She wore a beautiful wedding dress. He looked dashing in his monkey suit. Photos of old cars he used to drive; a ’67 Dart. A yellow Chevy. They asked themselves, Who were these people? What did they do? Were they in love?

And, they sat in silence. Wondering who the other was. Minds turned off. Eyes a million miles away. Souls left years ago. Now, they just waited. For what? They did not know.

He looked around the house. Saw a tear in the leather couch. A rip in the easy chair. Pots and pans piled up in the sink. All the clocks were off by ten, maybe fifteen minutes. And, it was dark. A dim light bulb swung from the ceiling. Mice ran across the kitchen floor.

Some day, he said. Some day this will all be gone, the old man opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer. There was spoiled lettuce and rotted fruit in the bottom drawer. An opened box of baking soda sat in the back of the ice box. Nothing will exist anymore, he tapped the top of the beer can before opening it. Everything we take for granted, he smiled, Will be gone, he took a gander at his son standing in front of the television, adjusting the antennae. You hear me? It’ll all be gone. Everything we worked for. Gone, the old man moved his hands as if he was performing magic.

Which way is north? the boy asked. Or, is it east? he shook his head. Somewhere out there is a TV station with a big dish sending out signals. Awe hell, he said. Why do I even try? the old man handed him a beer. They both sat quietly, watching blurred lines go across the screen.

That thing never worked, said the old man. It’s always been on the fritz, he stared up at the dangling light bulb. The old man grabbed a broom standing against the wall and began toying with the bulb; hitting the cord it was attached to. Making the light swing wildly. It’s all going to be gone. And that’ll be that, he continued swinging at the cord.

Be careful with that pop, the boy said. It’s the only light we have. You bust it and it’ll be dark in here till morning, he told him. And, what do you mean it’ll all be gone? Maybe you want it to end. Put you out of your misery. Is that what you want? the old man now was trying to hit the bulb. He kept missing it as it swung back and forth like a clock.

I’m telling the truth, the old man said. Soon it’ll all be gone, contact was made with the light bulb. A thousand pieces went everywhere. It was nearly pitch black.Colored lines ran across the television. They sat in silence.