To Be My Mother's

I am the younger of two brothers though I feel like I am the oldest. My brother was born with an illness, Down Syndrome, to be exact. He is happy nearly all the time unless he’s not then no one is happy. We grew up just outside Fort Worth, Texas, born two full blooded Texan sons to full blooded Texan, middle class parents. Our parents have always been good to us, and my mother, had always been a good mother to my brother and myself. Growing up, I was always interested in cars and the typical boy’s stuff like sports and how much dirt I could accumulate on my clothes, but my brother had always been interested in whatever my mother did. I’m not speaking of being interested in baking or being interested in looking pretty just for the sake of these being woman things, but it was a simple fact that just being were she was made his day. It was like hearing my mother’s voice put a light in his eyes.

One afternoon, while my mother was baking a cake for our father’s birthday, Johnny (as he was known) stayed at her side, helping her with this and that, pleading with my mother to crack the eggs. I sat in the living room reading one of my comic books, dying to know if Spider Man was going to beat that Venom guy or not. I was fifteen then, caring little about what was going on in the oven or what dinnerware was going on the table, but I loved my mother. I loved her dearly because she and my father had given me life. So it’s easy to say that I loved both of my parents equally, but Johnny did not. Even upon being asked, he would admit that my mother was his favorite, and I knew that this was very true. It wasn’t that my father failed to give him attention or say I love you, but my mother was his world and without her, his world would cease to exist. It was years later and I hated to admit it, but I believed that my mother would cease to exist without him as well.

I listened one night to my mother and brother as she sat getting ready to go to spend the evening with our father. They were talking and laughing about so many different things, on so many different topics, that I wasn’t so sure my parents would ever leave the house. My father waited with me in the living room and we talked about school and about sports, and he gave me pointers on how I could improve my game, football, my favorite sports since I could walk. I was seventeen then, expected to baby sit my nineteen year old brother and I did this willingly as I knew my parents had a much needed break coming to them. Johnny and I got along rather well, but once in a while I would have to get after him about getting into the cupboards, taking down the flour and sugar like he was about to bake something with mom.

When we grew up, I wouldn’t stay behind, but Johnny would. He would stay with my parents while I went off to a good school, Harvard, where I put off playing college ball to study law. I met my wife, Angela at the law office I interned at, and we fell in love. We fell deep and hard in love for each other and got married my third year out of law school. When I brought her home to meet my parents they were in love with her too or at least displayed the Southwestern charm my wife said that she had found so attractive in me. She was from the Midwest, Nebraska, and she was happy to move anywhere I went.

“As long as we’re together,” she would say.

She was a scholar in her own right. Though she was not a lawyer, she often wrote law articles for distinguished journals and then managed a household of three children, two boys and a girl. I love her always.

My brother would not love another woman always like he had loved our mother, or how I connected and loved Angela. Such devotion, I thought, but then realized that this was not devotion just a disease that made him incompatible with anyone else. Still, there was a connection that my mother had with Johnny that I would never have with her. I often wondered what it would be like to be my mother’s world. I understand that she loved me dearly because I was her baby, but to be fair, I was not the one she worried about leaving alone. She would wonder, strongly I suppose, who would take care of her Johnny. She didn’t have to worry about me, and I loved this because that meant that I wasn’t another burden.

Who will take care of my baby when I’m gone? Truth was, Angela would take care of me and I her, and my mother knew that. I knew that too. For my mother, my brother would always be around. A mother looses a son to his wife, but she couldn’t loose Johnny, not to anyone. It was many a person who tried to tell my mother that she should have Johnny committed to a "special home", but she wouldn't hear of it. You couldn't get a word in edgewise if you wanted to speak about taking away my mother's "precious Johnny".

"I'd rather he died before me," my mother would say to my father's suggestions that she not worry.

If anyone knew my mother, they'd know that worrying was one of her greatest pastimes, something she did rather well, keeping the faith was something it seemed hard for her to do. I suppose that's what surprises me about the relationship that she and my brother shared. She trusted that everything would be okay, as long as she could take care of him. And, after having my own children, seeing Angela with all three of them, I could understand where she was coming from. No one, I believed, could take care of our children better than their mother.

So what was to happen with Johnny? Our mother did pass before her "special son", but not before pulling me aside, looking at me with those blue eyes of hers. There was this sense of pride and dread at the same time, welling in my heart, thrusting at my chest, causing it to thump. She placed her hands in mine or over mine, I am not so sure really who touched who first. My sweet mother looked so terrified.

"I need to ask you to do me a favor," she started. "When I go-"

Her sweet Texan accent tickled the hairs inside my ears, and I felt myself strengthen up. "You want me to take care of Johnny when you go?"

"He's not gonna be able to make it in this world without his family," she continued. "I know it ain't fair sweetheart, but I know you and Angela, you're so strong of a couple and you'll keep him well taken care of. Why, he'll be just fine living in his own room, he just needs the company now and again."

I smiled. "He needs you, that's all he cares about."

She placed her hand on my cheek and looked at me like I was some angel. It appeared as if some weighted had been lifted off her chest and I wondered how she trusted me so much. I had been so jealous sometimes, of the attention my older brother had received, but she trusted me.

"Thank you Robert," she said with a smile. It had been a long time since I heard my name sound so sweet, coming from my mother.

I'm not sure what really got to me the most, the sound of my mother's voice or that fact that family should take care of family. I talked it over with Angela and by God, she understood and accept my proposal when I suggested that we convert the room above the garage into "Johnny's room". She gave him a chance when many folks turned away, and I couldn't help but find some similarities between my beautiful wife and my beautiful mother.

It's been nearly fifteen years since my mother passed on, and exact to the day, my brother passed as well, a not so funny coincidence. He suffered from heart problems nearly his whole life, but he had a good life, a family who loved and cared about him. I'm not so sure what to make of all this yet, I'm still working through this life myself, but I'm damn thankful I've had the life I have. I feel like a better person for knowing my brother. We didn't play ball together or talk about girls, but we sure did live.

Dedicated to My great friend Raylene :) What if it all works out?

Don't Dig There

While acorns spit fire and cantaloupes dance
My love is like a fish in the water. It never turns blue
Why spit like a camel when the water is good
If I were to drown it would not be me but with the fishes I’ll see
The trees throw at me leaves from the ground
Why is it that you’re not around?
Sad words sometimes flow but smiles catch up fast
Why which did come first my love or attraction
While alligators eat bugs
I’ll fly around on smart rugs
It’s not a rhyme that I care to rethink
I’ll bear not to have pressure
This is not or lesser value
Take into consideration the time it looks well spent
Remember the camels
They are not as dumb as they look

Scarlett's Walk (this one's under work)

The girl was always alone, and damn her if that didn’t just bother me. Everyday she was alone whether is was walking to school then back home, eating alone at the lunch table, and I saw her too, sitting there with her meal neatly placed before her, sipping her white milk from a small straw. Why didn’t she just be more sociable or something, anything really other than being so damn alone all the time?

I was rarely ever alone as I had two sisters, one older and one younger. We, my sisters and myself especially, had a way of making sure that we were never alone, be it going to the movies or sitting at the lunch table, but this girl was different. I was pretty and knew it, no beauty queen mind you, but I was no ugly duckling. Scarlett was her name, and she had red hair like her name eluded. My name Betsy, from Elizabeth, was nothing shot of a little dull, but I made due with what I was given, and rather well I thought especially when looking at Scarlett, comparing myself is selfish ways. How many boy friends could I get then throw away? How pretty did people thought me to be? Scarlett wasn’t really ugly, if I had to be fair, but really, she had wild hair, untamed, like fire in the wind and these amazing green eyes that were always cast downward like she couldn’t just look ahead to where she was going. She wore clothes that were defiantly hand-me-downs, but no one knew where they had been handed down from. I suppose she isn't really ugly. In fact, with a little help she might even be decent looking.

I was walking home. It was fall, the start of my junior year, and I was very excited to be close to the real world, graduating soon. I wasn’t sure what the hell I was going to do after school, probably attend community college, planning to waste plenty of money on making my decision. I loved reading and writing and everything that had to do with literature, but I couldn’t figure how on earth I could translate that into a degree my parents were willing to pay for. I could teach, but really, how many people liked teachers and most of the time I couldn’t really even stand to help my little sister with her homework. I couldn’t teach, didn’t really like helping people learn too much either.

So why on earth, when I saw Scarlett that day, being picked on my two boys, did I go over and help her? I loved attention, positive flirty attention, but for some reason I yelled, at the top of my lunges, for them to leave her alone. They were younger boys or at least younger than me, I don't really know or care. They were calling her names and taunting her as if they had the right to.

A breeze blue up leaves around the group. Scarlett's hair touched the wind, like it was waving at me, calling me closer yet Scarlett kept her head down as they continued, so I picked up a small rock or two, and being that my father had taught me to pitch, threw them as hard as I could, knocking one of them in the shoulder. They ran off immediately and I apprehensively approached her.

She looked frightened and thankful, and then she looked at me like she was in awe. I felt uncomfortable as she thanked me, and I said, "it's no problem". After all, when someone “less fortunate” was in trouble you helped, or rather it was horrible, seeing her so helpless like some scared animal. Still, I was on my way home, kids were on their way home around us, and I didn’t want them to see me talking to this girl, so I began to walk then stopped, feeling something tug at me, a feeling I had never experienced before.

“Do you want me to walk with you?” I asked.

She nodded and actually smiled. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

She wasn’t much to look at right there, with tears her in her eyes, but she had a really pretty voice. “Okay,” I said then started walking with her beside me, silently walking beside me like she was some subject of mine who couldn’t talk unless being talked to in the first place.

“So,” I began. “What was that about?” Eek, what on earth was I doing? Was I really that interested in what she had to say or did I feel this need to talk like silence wasn’t enough? It was enough just to keep my mother shut, but I didn’t. I guess it's a stupid notion since I didn’t really care about this girl, maybe.

“Oh I don’t know,” she answered.

“Sure you do,” I countered, believing that this girl had done something, anything to those boys who ruthlessly attacked her.

She was silent for a second. “No, I didn’t do anything. They just do that once in a while.”

“You didn’t say mean things back or I don’t know, look at them funny?”

“No,” she replied plainly.

Impossible, I thought. No one’s cruel for the sake of being cruel, right? Okay, so I made a little list of things that would fix all her problems. She could tame her hair and stand up straight, and look people in the eye like she had the right to do. She could dress better like I did. She could have a plan to not make it so easy for everyone to pick on her. I know, listening in on the conversation in my head, I probably sounded so unkind, but really, the girl brought everything upon herself, right?

“Thank you Betsy,” she said and I found it odd that she had said my name even though we had never talked before. She had stopped in front of a house that was just like my own, a little run down, but it was similar to the one I lived it. Wait, that was my house, and we where standing at the gate in front of my house. She knew where I lived? I found this odd, first my name then my house. Hmm, something was up here, and I was going to get to the bottom of it.

“I know you probably don’t want to walk me all the way to my house, being seen with me isn’t exactly what you want. I know this.”

Wait, what, how did she know what I had wanted like she could read my mind? Yes, walking with her terrified me, immensely terrified me that at any moment someone could just spot us together.

“No,” I said then changed my tone, lying flat out. This was a favor I was doing for her, but I didn’t want her to owe me. “I don’t mind, people can see us together.”

“Okay,” she said as if offering some challenge, but really she had just wanted something from me, a friend or something she could hold on to. “Will you walk to school with me tomorrow then walk down the halls with me too?”

What! Oh, yeah, so what did she want me to do? I must have stopped breathing, but my pride or rather my conscious got the better of me as I answered, "alright, I’ll meet you tomorrow morning". Then she was gone, walking away from me as I stood numb to realization that everything was probably going to end for me, I was done for. Total social suicide.

The following morning I woke, didn’t eat, but dressed in my best pair of jeans and fancy t-shirt with flip-flops and I made sure every dark hair on my head was perfect. I walked outside to wait, expecting to just start walking by myself is she didn’t show up. I was determined to keep my promise though I was scared shitless, and she came, two minutes later. Her hair was pulled up out of her face in a half ponytail, and she looked right at me, and I thought she was very beautiful, small features, a prettier nose than my own.

We walked all the way to school barely speaking, and when I opened those high school doors I felt terror ride up into my throat. She walked ahead of me, waiting as I followed behind her. So, this is how it must have felt, the walk she made everyday in school. She really was pretty and though rather unsociable, very brave. I wasn’t sure if anyone was looking at us or not as I made sure to keep my eyes down the floor, walking beside her like I had promised. I was proud of myself and terrified and then so proud. So this is it huh, I thought, Scarlett’s walk?

Busted

They were like fire, uncontrollable to their very cores, but apart they were undeniably complete opposites. The most likely unlikely couple to walk down the halls of their high school. She was small: bones, eyes and lips which were raised so often in a flirty smile that every boy began to believe it was for them. No. It was his, outspoken and strong with intense eyes of blue, matching only hers in allure. Everything Janie was, Adam wasn’t. She could overflow with her temper and grudges, which could and would be held for months even years. He let things go; he had to. Though what Janie could get Adam began not to care about. She was so pretty and smart, at least that’s what everyone thought. Her parents were obviously proud of her and Adam, he never showed it too much, but he was amazed by her, captivated by her wit. It seemed that all he needed to know was that girl, the girl who sat next to him in his truck after school .The girl who would brush her dark hair behind her ears as she looked down. That’s all he needed, and it frightened him on more than one occasion.

They were intensely in love with each other. So much so that everyone began to worry. The teachers constantly took not of Janie’s distraction, and how they kissed in the hallway between classes, the most conspicuous display of public affection. He was a sort of rebel in their eyes, and she was going places far beyond his reach.

Is she loosing herself? they wondered when what they really meant was, My God is she going to end up pregnant and throw her life away? She has so much promise.

To everyone their relationship was like a cliff. The end was near, and the drop was destined to be hurtful. They could make or break each other.

They fought.

One day she practically screamed, “Why don’t you care!”

Everyone in the cafeteria tried not to pay attention to this quarrel, but all five foot three inches of Janie were dominating when she was angry, and by God the flare in her eye was something short of seductive. However, no one but Adam would tell her how attractive she was when she was angry. The very thought or mention made her even more upset.

That day she had her hands on her hips. God, was she about to cry? Adam didn’t seem to even look at her, a fact that made Jamie grab his arm, turning him to face her. This did nothing. He moved around her to the semi-empty hallway and she stood there, a sting of pink humiliation on her cheeks. However, she was not done. She took a deep breath then went to fight on. No one had any idea what was on the table this time, but then no one ever had an idea.

“Adam,” she said in a lowly as she approached him, her arms crossed at her chest.

“What Janie?” he asked, emphasizing that he clearly didn’t know what she was getting all worked up about this time.

He began joking with a friend near-by. For the longest time he hadn’t said more than small sentences to her. The longest time being a few weeks, which turned into a month. He did this everyday at lunch, pretending they weren’t even a couple. It wasn’t that he didn’t smile at her or kiss her once in a while, but what was all so intense was gone. Janie just hadn’t gotten the clue, but then nobody had.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

He turned to her, but it didn’t even seem as if he was even looking at her. “I am talking to you.”

“No, you’re talking to him and pretending that I don’t exists.”

There was no response. Wait, yes there was in the form of two raised shoulders that went up then down.

“I don’t get you.”

“What’s to get?”

How could she respond to that?”

“Talk to me,” she pleaded as she touched his arm.

“I am!”

“No you’re ignoring me…I am your girl friend aren’t I?”

He backed away from her, said something to his friend then just carelessly looked at her, or what was played as careless. Wouldn’t anyone really like to know what was going on in his head? Janie did, but he wasn’t telling.

“Okay,” she said as she took his hand, trying to win him over by acting sweeter.

“Don’t,” he said, taking it back. “Not now.”

“Not now?” she asked, taken aback. He had never said not now before. That was something he never did, deny Janie anything, ever. “What the hell is your deal?”

“Don’t know-”

“Don’t know?” she mocked. “Idiot!”

“Yeah Janie that’s it…you figured me out…”

“What?”

“You know everything.”

She shook her head, telling him to stop. Janie was uncontrollable, contained only by Adam, but it was he who unleashed her. She began to shake; her hands were at her sides. She took deep breath after deep breath to calm herself, but she shook still. She and Adam had fought before, but never to the point of Janie’s humiliation, and she was humiliated. Perhaps that was the point. No one but Adam knew, and he wasn’t telling.

“Stop it…”
“What?”
“Being-”
“Being?”
“So mean!”
“Oh no,” he mocked in a taunting tone. “I’m being mean-”
Smack!

Janie was small, but her temper wasn’t and it gave her an odd power. So when she punched Adam it was no big surprise. She only dished out what was deserved. Everyone stopped as Adam touched his face, his warm cheek that actually had begun to sting. They only messed around before but this was real; she was really hurt by him.

This was not smart; Janie was always smart. Both of them went to the principle’s office. She sat and listened to clear disappointment in her behavior while outside of the office Adam denied an ice pack from the school nurse. He didn’t want her to be in trouble, just way from him. Could he reverse everything? Should he even begin to try?

The door opened. Janie pushed her long hair behind her ears. There was something about her that made her face radiate as she tried not to look at him. He rested back in his chair with two chair legs in the air while he rested his head on the wall, looking at her. This caught her attention. He smiled, but it was misunderstood. She thought he meant to be smug when he really meant to just smile at his girlfriend. She took her foot, wrapped it very quickly over the raised leg, and pulled, knocking him to the floor.

“Should have four on the floor at all times,” she said then left the office.

He stood, fixing the chair then rubbed his head to relieve the pain. Quickly he turned to watch her walk away. What that walk did he could never explain to her. He had tired to explain how much she meant to him when they were alone together, but she took everything out of him. He leaned in close to her, touching her cheek, thinking, my God I’m in love with this person…I can’t even speak.

“Adam!” someone called from the hallway. Through the glass he saw his friend, signaling for him to hurry outside. “Janie’s headed to your truck.”

“What?”

“You must have really pissed her off.”

He did, knew full well what the consequences could be. When he reach the parking lot she was surrounded by a few people, and grabbed a rock from the ground the minute she had spotted him. He shook his head to tell her no, but she didn’t care. However, he did, and for more than just his truck too.

Everyone saw him grab her hand, holding it. They must have just looked at each other for what seemed like hours, never speaking a single word. The rock was in her hand; the truck unharmed next to them. Her blue eyes had begun to water and Adam must have known she was about to cry because he took the rock, throwing it to the side. He wanted everyone’s attention off of her, so he took his keys out of his pocket, the jingle echoing in the air. Like the many times before he took her hand, leading her to the truck and helping her inside. No one knew what to expect when they drove away. Everyone felt as if they had just watched history or something significant like that. No one said anything as they went back into school despite the fact that everyone had an opinion and was very ready to share.

What no one would ever guess that they would cease to be that a good talk everyone thought would happen, didn’t. No one would ever know the turbulent pain Adam went through at the very thought of letting Janie go. No one would ever guess how much anger Janie felt towards the boy who was her life. Truth be told, he had just brought her home, nothing more, nothing less, and even if he wanted more he didn’t get it. He just watched as she went into her house, waited to see if she would return, making the decision to tell her everything, but only giving himself that one chance. There’s nothing to speculate about anymore because the couple that could have been, should have been, simply isn’t.

Tuesday Morning Heaven

He went to Heaven on a Tuesday morning. The walls were white and lined with paintings of cottages in the misty morning down by a creek deep in the woods. Everything was so white and sterile. Wait, no, his mistake, those were hospital walls he was walking along with people who wore kitty cat scrubs and white shoes that matched the tile floor. He felt light, so free as if he was floating, though he walked. He heard people making dinner reservations and some spoke about their patients and plans for the weekend. He stood beside a woman who spoke of chest pains and how long she had been waiting and how unacceptable that was. He tried to tell of his chest pains too, but no one pays him any attention like he isn’t even in the room. He’s there though; he can hear and smell her strong perfume floating around the room, tickling his nose. Someone says his name, but wait, no it isn’t his name; it’s someone else with the same name. He begins to walk again; it was like floating, feeling so light like when air touches your skin that’s how he feels.

Diana! What was she doing there, her head hung low as someone spoke to her? She was his wife, his beautiful wife of twelve years, and she was crying tears from those beautiful brown eyes of hers. He calls her name then calls her sweetie, his special salutation for her, and he went to touch her, but she seemed so distant, no one said anything to him. Diana stopped crying for a second, looking past him, but he was there, damn it! She was deep in thought. The woman beside her was older, a plump middle aged woman of probably forty who wore blue scrubs. She had a mask hanging around her neck, and she had something in her hands, a clipboard with papers and she held a pen out to his wife, and she took it, looking at the papers then writing.

“Why are you here?” he asked, but she walked away from him. “What are you doing?”

Answer Diana, please answer me, he chants out loud, but no one seems to care. In all the years of their relationship, she never walked away without indulging his thirst for answers. That’s what he had always loved about her, the sense of duty to always be honest. They had had an awkward meeting, he was almost certain that they couldn’t possibly have fallen in love. She was exactly three years younger than him, almost to the exact minute, and he had found this out on their first meeting.

He had been heading back from the grocery store, planning to fix dinner for a girl that he had been dating for nearly a month. He was going to be graduating college with a degree in advertising, loving the funny commercial with talking dogs and funny babies since he was a boy, watching television with his two other brothers. He wasn’t an artist, but he was witty and often wrote his own little jingles while attempting to sleep. Diana was young, in her freshman year of college, but she looked older, was wearing high heels and a knee length black skirt that hugged her curvy hips as she walked over to him. It was about four that afternoon when she had hit his black, fairly old, though his only car, a Grand Am. The hit had happened on the driver’s side, knocking into his tire. He had to crawl over the passenger seat to get out. She was immensely apologetic, crying as she came over to him, but she tried to hold herself together, biting her check every so often. He was so annoyed, his groceries were all over his car not to mention it would cost him to get everything fixed, and on top of that, he had a date in less than two hours, man was he pissed. However, he stayed calm, asking if she was doing alright and if there was anything that he could get her.

“I hit your car, remember,” she had said.

He called the police from his car phone, sitting in the passenger seat, watching her. She was beautiful and couldn’t be angry anymore, and though she had hit him, it was impossible to be anything but nice to her especially as she shook when handing him her driver’s license.

“August twentieth huh,” he said just before writing down the rest of her information. “Mine too, though three years before yours.”

She had smiled at this news. “Oh,” she replied, looking over to his license, which he had held out for her to see. “Cameron Michael Wyatt,” she read and upon hearing his name come from her lips, he knew that there was something about her that he would never be able to get over.

It took half a year to start dating and another year and half to finally be engaged. Diana was so smart, witty and truthful and by God, did he love her. She would nearly always admit fault if she had been wrong and she could speak so beautifully, articulating perfectly while using words that he had learned only because of her. They had large wedding with both their families present. Two years later, after she had finished her master in literature, they had their first child or rather children, twins, a boy named Alex and a girl named Lorelei. They hadn’t had anymore children since, being too busy with life as it was. He loved his life.

Diana was gone, away somewhere with that nurse, going somewhere that he couldn’t go. He felt sad, so alone, feeling like he wanted cry, but he couldn’t physically produce the tears just the pounding in his chest. Why couldn’t he go? He sat down.

“What are you here for?” a man asked.

He hadn’t notice anyone sitting beside him, especially not the old man sitting next to him, smelling of Vic Vapor Rub with a knitted scarf decorated with red and white stripes. There was a time, as a boy, that he had had a scarf like that. He had to be about seventy, sounded fifty and smart, so was he really wearing a Hawaiian shirt with hula girls on it? His hands were clasped together in his lap. He reminded him of someone, a man with dark skin, a deep voice, so tender. Ha, like Morgan Freeman.

“I don’t know-”

“Don’t know or don’t remember?”

“There both the same.”

“No they’re not,” he countered as he leaned over. “One you know and just don’t recall and the other means that you plumb don’t know whatcha did.”

“Did?”

“Yeah, what are you doing here?”

“I don’t remember I guess…do you know?”

“I haven’t a clue, can’t read your mind you know. I just came cause I got a call, so here I am, speaking to you.”

“A call, you’re here to visit someone?”

“Yeah, you.”

“You got a phone call about me?”

His hands came up, moving as he spoke. “I didn’t say a phone call Cameron. I said a call…plain and simple.”

He eyed the man. “How’d you know my name?”

“Dose it matter, really?”

“Well…yeah.”

“Does it matter more how you got here or how I got here?” he asked, tilting his head. “Isn’t it more important to know where you’re going?”

“Going?”

He pointed to the left. “Going Cameron like this way,” he said then pointed to the right. “Or that way.”

“Left or right huh, so those are my options?”

He released a heavy sigh like this man beside him was just not getting the point, so he stood and there was something familiar about him like he had known this man. The way he walked or talked, and the way he spoke about being at the hospital for a reason. There he was, following a stranger, a man who walked down the halls of the hospital like he had been living there for years, walking in zigzags around people who really didn’t seem to notice them at all. They kept walking and walking and he looked back.

“Don’t look back, the past is not where we’re going,” the man said.

“Right,” he answered, following down the hall. “No looking into the past…then how am I to know what I did or didn’t do?”

“Not no looking into the past because Cameron, we learn from the past, but we cannot dwell on the past you know? You should learn and then move on.” He stopped and looked into the room of a couple, looking over the bed of their daughter. The little girl was sleeping, and the parents were sitting on each side of her bed, watching over her. “You’d never know it, but the parents are divorced.”

“So?”

“So they’ve come together for their daughter who’s dying of cancer.”

“Will you come and get her too?”

“No, I am here just for you. By the way Cameron, where do you think I’m taking you?”

“Would it be presumptuous of me to assume that you’re taking me to Heaven?”

“It would be.” the man said as he stopped in the middle of the hallway. “What makes you think you deserve to go?”

“You say that I don’t deserve to go?”

“That’s not what I’m saying. I asked what makes you think that you deserve to go. I don’t make the rules.”

“Good, because I would have to tell you that I’ve been a good father and a good husband. I’ve loved each of them without one second thought. I would give my life for either of them you know, but of course you must know that-”

“Why must I know that?”

“Because you’re part of Heaven, right? I mean friends with God and all?”

“Hmm.”

“Why are you saying that…like hmm,” he repeated like the man. “It’s like you doubt me…”

There was no answer just continuous walking. They walked forever, feeling like days and days before the man turned to him, looking at him for just seconds surely, but they felt like hours. The man, he had brown eyes, the same spiral lines around the pupils. He had spiral lines around his pupils.

“What’d you say Cameron, to her, before you left, what did you say?”

“Pardon?” he asked.

“To her…Cameron, what’d you say?”

He remembered his wife’s voice, sounding so erratic, so much like something he had never really heard before. It was a way she didn’t usually speak like she was desperate for understanding him like she didn’t already know him. Diana was the only person who knew him the most, the simple man that he was and she knew him more than anyone ever would. He loved her for that very fact. Why was she questioning him like she had never known him? He looked around, hearing her voice over and over again asking for some answer that he wasn’t sure he could give. It was his wife’s voice, floating around him, asking so many questions.

“Cameron,” the man said, not Diana, but a man.

“Huh?”

“What’d you say?”

“This isn’t Heaven…is it?”

The man released a heavy breath. “One doesn’t remember or plumb doesn’t know what one has done?”

“Do,” he repeated. “…done…I haven’t done anything?”

“How’d you get here Cameron?”

He wasn’t sure how he had got into the hospital. Really, he couldn’t remember. All he could remember was sitting with Diana, arguing over something that he had said to their daughter. It was about an outfit she wanted to wear, something he thought was inappropriate for a ten year old girl. Diana came into his office, asking what he had said to her, but he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t fathom might send Diana to him in such a frenzy, eyes all aglow with anger. Was it what he had said to their daughter or was there something else?

“I got up and left the house, grabbing my keys from the kitchen counter as I headed to the garage. She told me not to leave, begging me now that I think about it. Yet, I left because I felt like I was being attacked, and I didn’t understand why.” He turned, seeing the man looking at him, waiting for more…more story. “I started the car, debating on whether I was going to go or not. I saw that the tank was near empty, so I thought that I would go and fill up the car then come back. I would come home, yes, I would be gone for a short while and she would calm down and then I would go home to her, and ask her what was wrong. We would work things out.”

“Where’d you go instead?”

“No, I went to the gas station, I filled up the tank…wait, no, I didn’t…I had forgotten my wallet at the house, sitting in the bedroom where I had taken it out of my pocket. I couldn’t get gas…there was enough left to make it home. I had planned on filling it up after talking with Diana…”

“But?”

“I saw her; she was looking at me with a smile, the daughter of one of the men that I had worked with, a campaign that I had successfully pitched. She was younger than me by eight or so years, really pretty. Odd, I don’t even remember her in details. I had no attraction to her though, not in comparison to Diana, but she was smiling at me from over by her car, and she had recognized me. I thought that I would get out of the car and ask about her father, but somewhere, somehow something went wrong. It was like suddenly I was with her then, looking at her naked as I sat down on her bed, and I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t think much though, I had put everything I could from my mind, thinking that for one moment that I would forget about everything that I had waiting for me at home, the woman who was upset with me, had seemed upset quite often with me, but I put that from my mind…”

“What’d you say to her Cameron?”

“Nothing, I didn’t say anything just looked at her as she came towards me, naked coming towards me, and that’s when it hit me. I saw how different, how young her body looked, the size and shape of her breast. Yes, that’s what hit me the hardest. Diana’s look different now, different then they did before she had the twins, but I love them. I love every damn thing about her body even though she doesn’t, the lines, the color of her skin in the light, how it looks olive sometimes, and how when she leans over, I can tell that she’s a mother. Yes, I love her, and this woman, who was before me, was not her, though I touched her, feeling felt sick. Yes, I felt like vomiting, and I stood up so fast that my head spun around in circles, moving faster and faster and I felt nauseas, but I felt my feet moving underneath me like I couldn’t move fast enough to get to my car.

It wasn’t raining or fogging or even cloudy for that matter, but to me, it seemed that way, driving like some divine part of nature was all around me.”

“That’s it!”

“Yes, that’s when it happened. The car caught on fire when I hit the tree, not right away mind you, but it took a while as they pulled me out.”

“And now, you are here.”

“Yes.”

“And now, you remember what you did-“

He nodded.

“So now, when you wake up-”

He looked at the old man, the gray hairs around his ears sticking out.

“Yes…Cameron…you are going home.”

“I have to tell her?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Because, you’re His friend…you’re telling me that I have to tell her or I won’t get into Heaven…”

“No, I’m not telling you anything…”

He began walking again. “Good, because I don’t know if it’s right-”

“Telling her?”

“Yes, because then she’ll be hurt over nothing…because that’s what I did…nothing happened, so telling her would just cause this whole whirlwind of events that she doesn’t deserve to go though…”

“Ah I see, so is this really for her or you…you don’t want to loose her then?”

He stopped, turned, staring into nothing. The hospital was buzzing with people, nurses who scurried to and fro on their rounds and doctors who grabbed charts of this patient then charts of that patient, and he was alone. He’s standing beside Diana. He looks down, he is in a hospital bed and she is resting her head on his hand; her hair back in a ponytail.

How long was he gone? It is too long, yes, too long while she waits for him. He hates to make her wait, and prays that this has not upset her.

“Cameron,” she says as she moves to look at him, lifting her head. “Cameron,” she says again sweeter than the first.

He smiles, though he’s barely able to.

“Don’t talk,” she says as she sits up, straitening her slender body, showing him that her eyes are all red, though still beautiful. “I love you,” she says with a return smile.

He knows that it will hurt to talk, but he can’t keep silent. “Diana,” he says in a whisper.

She comes closer to him, brushing a few loose hairs behind her ear. “Yes sweetie?”

“Do you…want to know…where I’ve been?”

She smiles. “Oh sweetie…yes, yes I do, but not right now okay...right now I’m going to get the doctor.”

He nods, and then, she’s gone.

Dog Days

And it was, they say, a damn hot day. To an inth degree Samuel Rogers was satisfied, a hot and sticky satisfied when he looked around the lake, looking at not one, but two tempting, able bodied females, who lay, skin dripping with tanning lotion and sweat. Then she popped into his vision, that girl who everyone desires to talk to, to be able to touch just once, if only to make sure she was real. A second daughter to the Grays, Eliza had eyes of a blue fire burning in the night. To say the least, they stood out against her tan skin. He swore they were barreling deep into his chest from across the lake. Hot sand, burning hot sand forced him into the shade, but she walked, a strap of a white, terrycloth dress dangling over her left shoulder. Her swimsuit was hot pink; the dark hair on her head was like a bushel, bouncing on her head as she walked, angling through people on the beach. Yes, she moved closer and closer to him, walking with her head bent away from the scorching sun.

Eliza lived beside him, or rather, across the street, and he saw her often, watching as she made her way to and fro. They were in grade seven when she moved into the Tudor house across the street, something he had relished in, especially when fellow classmates commented about her, how pretty she was. Eliza, was, and will remain that pretty little thing, and has been since being elected homecoming representative for their freshman class. Indeed, she could stare, into space or right at you with a smile, mocking and calling at the same time. He loved it, wasn't in love, but something welled in his chest every time he saw her, or imagined that she was looking right at him.

She talked to no one and no one talked to her as she made her way out of the hot sun. He saw beads of sweat drip down her skin as she walked by. He counted the seconds until one drop disappeared into the terrycloth...one...two...three...four...five, rolling down from the nape of her neck to the line of clothe above her chest, disappearing into the crease between her breast.

Then she was gone. He scanned the beach again, forgetting the reason he was even there. A hot day for swimming, a perfect day for a dip in the water, but he felt inclined to go back home, bask in the glow of the sun through his bedroom window.

The town was vast, outlined by homes and the school district, but it was really very small, moreover, it was intimate. The separation of six degrees could have been cut in half, everyone was connected in some way or the other. You might not know it at first, but some how he knew her and she knew about his uncles' cousin's drinking problem, which of course lead to the conception of someone’s little sister. Somehow and in someway, everyone knew nearly everything about everyone else, but for some reason, Samuel was the last to learn anything. It had been the way since he could remember, and no one made a move to change this, not his best friends or his mother or his father, who decided that he was going to leave after a fourteen year marriage.

I thought you knew things weren't going well.

Nope, guess you hid things pretty well.

Sam, I'm sorry, but I have to go, I can't stay here anymore. Your mother and I just...well, we're just not compatible.

Yep, could have fooled him, but apparently not his little sister or his older brother, who stood in his bedroom, telling him all the signs that he missed. Perhaps it was him and not the ability of others to fill in him in the latest news. He was just not very good at perceiving things.

He walked down the none-to-shaded sidewalk to his house a few blocks away from their little watering hole. There she was, coming towards him. There was a glow about her, she was walking again, with her head down. It was like that, she was getting closer and he was breathing heavy, partly from the sun, but mostly from the very sight of her.

"Hello Eliza."

She stopped, looked right at him, looked so deep into his eyes that he felt a chill wash over his body. It seemed as if she wanted to ask, are you talking to me? However, she didn't say anything, not at first. She did smile though, sweetly and calmly, though it seemed to mask something.

"Heading back to the beach?"

"I forgot something," she answered, still looking rather surprised that he would utter anything to her in the first place. "I don't think I care anymore."

Odd, the tone of her voice as she said that last part. She turned her body as to walk beside him; her shoulders were turned out, pronouncing her collar bone. Again she smiled, sweetly and seductively with a hint of ah ha. Whatever that meant, he wasn't so sure.

"Can I walk with you?"

"Sure."

She pushed a fallen hair behind her ear. "Going home?"

"Yeah, to bask in the air conditioning."

She laughed. "Can I come?"

"Ah," he paused first, though he wasn't sure why. "Yeah, you can come. It's just going to be me though."

"Okay, I don't mind."

They walked together, for a second it felt as if he should take her hand, holding her close, so she couldn't get away. He felt such an insatiable need to keep her within his reach, to hold her like he had never held another human being before. There was such electricity floating between them as they were silent, idling words, conversations to be had.

Her house was across the street from his, silent in the summer sun. Hot summer sun that made his face beat, pulsing one...two...three times over and it got worse once he was in the air conditioning. He slipped the house key back into his shorts pocket. His mother was working late that evening, a second summer job that took most of her time, but he didn't really seem to mind. His little sister was away with friends, a camping trip up north. His older brother had gone off to college nearly two years ago and was rarely ever around for anything let alone for his younger siblings. The house was cold, bitter cold almost once his skin began to adjust to the new temperature. She walked close behind him, waiting to be taken to his bedroom, and though it was weird to have her in the house, it felt normal that they should just venture into his house, making their way to his bedroom.

"I like it," she said as she entered his bedroom, a gray blue on the walls, and sports memorabilia on the shelves beside and above his bed. "It's you, very much you."

She complimented him once more, when she spotted the few books on his book shelve. He wasn't much for reading, but did have a few treasured favorites...The Catcher and the Rye seemed to have really caught her attention, striking it odd in his brain that she would find him fascinating at all. She sat down on his bed, her tan legs outstretched before her, and she moved like she knew his eyes were on her skin, looking her over. And if this was her assumption, she was right. He was looking at her, stealing glimpses of her as he kicked a few things from the floor, clothing that he had thrown there the night before.

"I don't care about the clothes," she said.

He took that into full consideration and sat down beside her. This was the first time they were together, really...EVER. They hadn't converse leisurely before in school or even thought to hang out at each others houses, since they only lived but a few good feet from each other. Something clicked in his brain as they began conversing suddenly about everything and then nothing, talking about plans for after high school. They were so close to graduating and yet so far from anything important at all. She kept moving in her way, saying this and that and he touched her and she touched him on the arm with her elbow, in the side as she teased him.

"Have you thought about me very much?"

He didn't understand at first.

"You have, haven't you?"

He felt sick, a thump in his throat, keeping him from nearly vomiting. Had he done this before? He wasn't so sure he had ever done this before, seeing such things, a human full of temptation in front of him. Was he a virgin? Looking at her he wasn't so sure any woman had ever existed before, especially as she moved around him, her skin barely touched his and he felt such sweet air between them. That was the first time they had ever been together...EVER. It was the first time he had kissed her...touched her...made any attempt to care about anything before.

"Show me," she said in the paused between breaths, in the time she should have gone for air. "I want to see it...I want to see everything you've ever dreamed of with me."

He felt such a heavy feeling in his chest as she lay beside him afterward, there was a bead of sweat that rolled down her shoulder again, and this time he took his hand, wiping away from her chest. "Eliza," he said.

"What did you leave at the beach?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice sounding tired, like she was about to doze off.

"Just my book...that's all...nothing important."

Odd, he woke in a cold sweat, feeling sick, so sick. He ran to the bathroom, finding it to be morning. His body ached and he felt chills all over, and he began to cry, falling in front of the toilet, hugging it with both arms. Why was this feeling coming over him, such sickness? He thought of Eliza, feeling sad and sick all over again. He thought of her in his arms like it had happened just a few seconds ago, but it felt like a few seconds ago that it had happened many more times than just once.

There was a sound above him, his brother was there. What the hell was Patrick doing home? He said something, asking about something, though he wasn't so sure what his brother was even talking about. He felt sick again and lunged into the toilet, but nothing came out, it was only a dry heave.

"Jesus Sammy, you should get back to bed."

Why, he couldn't sleep, not with such pains in his stomach, a thumping pain right where his heart was. It was just the other day when he had felt Eliza beside him, sleeping beside him. She was in his arms, and by God, this feeling in his stomach was so far from that feeling, being beside her.

"You should get back to bed Sammy. I mean really, this is affecting you bad. You should get back to bed and sleep it off."

"Sleep...sleep what off?"

He felt his brother's gaze on his back, burning into the middle of his spine. If it had been any stronger, the gaze, he might never have moved again, becoming paralyzed by his brother's intense look of question. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his forehead as he turned just slightly, so he could see his brother. There was a look in those brown eyes of his, those eyes of their father, the look of their mother, sympathetic to a degree and dreadful to another. News, there was something that needed to be said. Patrick looked like his mother before she had told him that she would be working more that their father wouldn't be coming around nearly as much as he should. It was a look or regret. I'm regretful in informing you that... Ah huh, that's the look just before he was told what everyone had known since the beginning.

"I came down when I heard about Eliza. I thought you might need a big brother to lean on. God knows dad won't be coming by. He's in Vegas with Laura, you remember don't you, Laura, dad's latest girlfriend?

He nodded, yeah; he knew who Laura was and where his father was. Eliza, what the hell?

"Mom said you've been like this since Monday when you found out. I didn't see it coming that's for sure. She said you two were "cute and happy" whatever that's supposed to mean. Really, I don't know what mom means half of the time."

His brother was rambling. Just shut up for a second or two, at least a second. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder and he felt sick again, lunging forward in another dry heave. His face must have been beat red already, most of the blood felt like it had rushed out ages ago.

"What about Eliza?" he asked. "What about her?"

He felt that burn again, that staring in the middle of his back. "She's dead, has been since Monday."

"I was just with her."

"Yeah, mom said you two went to the beach on Saturday and that afternoon she saw you two sleeping in your bed...you've been with her all summer...don't you remember anything? Don't you remember…she committed suicide...her mother found her in the Monday morning."

Ah that was it wasn't it? She was a dead girl, his dead girl. His head hit something hard, and his brother leapt forward, grabbing him by the shoulder's to lift him back. He apologized for something, probably for seeming insensitive, but he had remembered about Eliza. He had remembered learning from Mrs. Gray that she had had found her daughter dead in the bathtub with both her wrist slit, bleeding into the water around her. That memory, that first time they had been together and that last time they were together melted and merged in his brain. He felt like crying or vomiting or maybe screaming. He was angry or maybe that was the insatiable need to hold her that was taking over his body.

It was so hot. He stood; he was sure of that, feeling his brother help him.

"Eliza."

"Yes," she answered, her voice sounding tired, like she was about to doze off.

"What did you leave at the beach?"

"Just my book...that's all...nothing important."

He went to his room to find that book, to hold on to something that belonged to her. It wasn't love, and if it wasn't then why did he hurt so much? The first time with her, that last time with her seemed so distant, and yet so close that he was sure it had only happened once, and not at the beginning of the summer, continuing through the hot, dog days of summer. He gripped the thin stock of paper, a little novel by Steinbeck, a little memory of how she was his. He gripped it tight, feeling the book bend in his hands. A million minutes away Eliza had been there, she had looked at him like it was some surprise that he dare speak to her, a time too long ago to count, or so it seemed. She had poured her sweat onto him, onto his bed, that girl.

"Show me," was more an accurate account of what she had said in his ear that very first day as she paused between breaths, in the time she should have gone for air. "I need to see it...I need to see everything you've ever dreamed of with me."

And so it was done.

In vain?



(please bear with the rough draft)

A Man and A Gun

Click.

A pull back of a trigger.

There is shouting, it seems distant, but it’s near by.

He rests down on his knees, his hands behind his head. He is contemplating why he has stop off instead of going directly to home, she is waiting for him. There has to be some reason he wanted to come to this convenience store instead of just going straight home. He looks outside, the sun is still in the sky; the sky is a bright blue no clouds.

It’s odd. He has never seen Barbados; it must be nice. He has always wanted to go some place tropic, some place away from the city.

He looks down, that’s why, he is thirsty, wants something to drink on the drive home. It seems silly now. His home is only a few minutes down the road. He could have waited. There is more shouting and he looks up, but only for a second. He doesn’t want attention brought upon him, doesn’t want to make eye contact. The oddity of the situation makes him laugh. If this is some divine joke it isn’t funny just cruel. She’ll be waiting for him now, wanting to see him, but will he see her again?

Time passes, a few minute seem like hours.

He hears someone telling him not to move. Fool! He isn’t going to move, not when there’s a gun to his side. He closes his eyes, feeling hands search his person. Then he’s left alone.

A shot is fired; it rings loud and clear in his mind.

His heart is beating faster with each passing second then abruptly it stops, leaving him breathless like the wind has been knocked out of him. He opens his eyes. Everything is silent; a crimson tide is all he can see, crawling on the floor. There is a ding of a bell; the gunman is leaving the store. The tide keeps coming, spreading out over the white linoleum. Then in the distance he hears sirens. He looks down at his body, he is unharmed; only the man beside him is injured, lying unconscious face down. He closes his eyes again, letting out a breath. Thank God. He is going to see her again; he has to see her again. He laughs, not yet; he is not going just yet this is not his time.