Episode Five of 'Steven's Story' an original story
by
Melissa J. Vivigatz
~ * ~
“Merry Christmas”
PART I
“I’m on vacation!” David squealed as the car pulled out, and swear, if it was not twenty degrees F out there his head would be sticking out the window even if he wasn’t a dog.
“Christ, kid, let me get completely out of the garage before you rupture my freaking eardrum, why don’t you?” I snorted; spun the wheel and pulled the beamer like a small Titanic out into a world of fog and icebergs. Only in the heart of the big city, the ‘fog’ was mix of steam from various grates and the trapped exhaust of dump-trucks; the burgs frozen slush covered trashcans and tipped over newspaper dispensers.
And if you went ‘down town’ there might even be a body or two of the homeless as well to complete the merry scene.
Man, I hate the city in winter.
Early risers the both of us, it was seven in the morning, December nineteenth. First day of fucking ‘vacation’. Yeah-f’in’-whoo.
“Sorry,” David said; caught my glance and, “Steven, I’m sorry—oops! Sor—” and he slapped both hands across his mouth trappingly.
“So much for that agreement.” The kid just kept both hands over his mouth.
Paused at a blinking light, I flipped my lighter and got the old pipe going; shifted gears and spoke around the stem, “Look, maybe we set the bar too high. Instead of not using that word for the next two weeks, lets go hour by hour, alright?” He nodded. “Great.”
I cracked the window to let out the smoke of fine Virginia, the beamer’s heater going full, heated leather seats making up for the rest. Man, this car was groovy.
“Steven?”
“Yeah, kid?”
“I’m sorry.” I whipped my eyes over in fury to give him what for and he gave me his elfin grin complete with wrinkled nose and I burst out laughing so hard I had to scrabble for my dropped pipe, smoldering tobacco flying everywhere.
“Sorry!” he cried in meaning this time as tiny coals were hastily whipped away by both before my pants burst into flame.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, cut it out!” I shook, still laughing as I used foot to smother the last bit of glowing cinders on the mat by the pedals.
“Okay, I’ll try,” he said instead and we resumed the Titanic’s voyage, the Hindenburg’s fate avoided. Not bad considering we had only left the apartment five minutes ago.
“It’s just, well, I have never been on vacation before.”
“Mm-hmm.” Barely escaping with his life at age fourteen from an abusive home, doing what he had to to survive on the streets; libraries and his astounding mind only sanctuary. GED and the rest of it all on his own till he’d managed to graduate with honors from law school, and now currently worked as an intern at the same firm as myself, so, no, I could well imagine there had never been a moment’s ‘vacation’ for Little Davey.
Well, at least I was able to take care of that for him as well, I thought in satisfaction.
“What are you supposed to do on vacation?”
“Any damn thing you want to.”
“Cool.”
“Yup. Except no cross country skiing this time for you. Doc said not to over-stress that hip joint for another half-month.”
“Sorry.”
That one had me so furious I had to whip the car to the sidewalk so I could turn to him, “David, you were hit by a psychopath in fucking car! Can you get that through your damn, cracked head? You have nothing to be sorry about, got it?”
“Yes. S-s...uh. Hum.” He glanced up from his blushing cringe in rueful helplessness.
I tossed mental hands up and returned to the wheel, “Oh for crying out loud, why don’t I just get out and shoot myself in the head right now and get it over with?”
“Steven, you made an agreement as well.”
“So you shoot me then! Just make it look right or you’ll loose your inheritance. I’m good, kid, but not that good. Ha!”
David flipped back his wayward lock of sandy-blond hair, anger in his blue eyes now, “I hate it when you say stuff like that. I really do. Steven, you have to stop.”
Back into early morning winter traffic, “Not that superstitious crap again.”
“It is not superstitious, it just makes sense. You keep saying stuff over and over and then the universe takes notice and it happens.”
“Man, then I am fucked good already.” Sighs, if only. “Shit, maybe you should drive before a meteor beams me or something like in that movie last night. Would hate to be driving and take you with me my mistake. Hey,” I grinned, “you did make out your will last night, right? I mean, you are the one who insisted on coming long with me for vacation.”
“You are really starting to piss me off, Steven.”
“Well at least I still got that.” I glanced over, “So we going to start over and try again?”
“Yes. I will stop apologizing for everything and you stop connecting everything with death.”
“This is going to be a toughie,” I huffed wryly.
“Yup.”
“Yup.”
He reached for the dash and Miles Davis rose from the speakers.
“Groovy.” The kid cracked a grin, that one always...killed him. Shit.
“Just let me know when you want more coffee.”
“Will do, Co-Pilot Davey. Good to go for now though, thanks.”
“Vacation,” he started again. “I still can’t believe you got me all that time off.” Permanently hired, yet still technically a work intern, David had been with the law firm under a year. New employees did not get two weeks off, no way and no how. Especially not several days early before Christmas.
“Just be glad the old Doc is a returned-to-the-fold pipester. Notes of leave for the both of us. You did get hit by a car, kid, not to mention the rest of it. Only, he made sure to say if someone gets funny and tries to pull something later, come to him first no matter he is close to retirement. Used some jargon to make it sound good, delayed reactions and crap, but you know how it goes.”
“I don’t want to get him in trouble,” he frowned worriedly.
“You won’t. That salt can take care of himself,” I assured. After all, they didn’t call the grouchy ex-Navy man Doc ‘Ouch’ Samlin for nothing.
“Steven, how are you feeling?”
“Fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yep, I’m sure.” Migraines do to stress. Lots of stress, work and personal. I could have gotten a ticket of leave for long as I wanted, but there was David to consider. He would be catching some slack, yet he was a trooper and more, far too good at the job to ever risk loosing to another firm. At least in the eyes of most of the ones whom counted. No, we would be coming back together so I could protect him from the worst of it. Barring any road accidents or anything, of course. It was winter after all. All that ice and snow, why, even someone going for a walk alone in the woods might slip and break a leg or something, be unable to get back. Hell, no one could blame a guy for having an accident like that, right?
Right?
Cut it out, Steven.
“I hate to say it, yet I’ve the feeling it is going to be the Parkinson Files when we get back.” I lifted a hand to rub my temple, just the thought of those seemingly endless hours staring at the screen had my eyes cringe with idea of crawling up into my head and screaming.
“I though you weren’t supposed to think about work when you were on vacation?”
“Yeah. Well, takes a while for stuff to be put down. Besides, you are the one who brought it up first.”
“Sorry. Oops!”
“Ha! I win!” Liar.
Of course I am a liar, I’m a god damn lawyer. Shoo...sue me. Shit!
“This is going to be so cool,” David was saying in that carefree voice of his. (Oh, yes, there were many layers to Mr. David Markus Tyler. Sometimes he acted like a real kid, speech and emotions free, then other times it was the professional, well mannered young man who was destined to rise, listened more than spoke, yet when he did open his mouth it was direct, insightful and educated. Though more and more of late this looser side of him was coming to the fore. I think it was because he was relaxing, quite possibly for the first time in his life. Wary, oh yes, yet less need to be constantly on the edge twenty-four/seven just to literally survive. Maybe I was just blowing smoke rings, yet a small part of me said I had done well, was enabling him to catch up on some of the childhood which had been denied him. In his early twenties, yet David had one of those faces that would get him carded at a bar till he was my age at least.) “I am going to take a lot of pictures to show Kimber. I like the screenshots you can get on the web, but these are going to be mine. Trees and everything.” I nodded. “Did you mean that, Steven? About getting a real tree to decorate?”
“Sure, kid, whatever you want. There’s a place on the property where we used to cut them. Must be overgrown as hell despite the people hired for upkeep, still, we should be able to cut off a top or something. Tell you truth, I am looking forwards to that. All of Aunt Lillian’s stuff is in the attic. Some fine memories there for me.”
“How come you never brought them with you?”
“Different styles. Didn’t fit in the apartment.”
“I bet they would now.”
I smiled around me relit pipe, thinking some of them might do at that. Only a couple of weeks since the kid had moved into the guest rooms, but even the little changes made throughout the main living areas were real fine. Becoming more a home instead of just a rest stop you slept at between work shifts.
Yup, the updated Odd Couple, that’s us, kid. Except I think even Felix was too tight-assed to give the old grouch on the couch a hummer now and then. Man, I am so sick.
Instead, because I had promised to try, “Hey, that is something we can do over vacation, hit some antique stores and stuff. Of course most of it will be junk, yet sometimes you get lucky.”
“You could use some nice plant stands.”
“We could use some nice plants stands, Felix. That thing Kimberly gave you is a monster.”
“Yup. Too bad she gave it cooties.” A word learned from me. Apparently it now applied to everything from bimbo secretaries messing up computers lines with resulting glitches on down. The plant the girl had given him for a house warming present had had scales or something. No problem, David had taken care of it with dish soap. “Where do they keep them by the way? Girls and cooties I mean? Since they aren’t crabs. Even I know about them.”
“I don’t know. Like I told you, kiddies get them from kissing each other. Kiddies and cooties rhyme, so maybe the gals keep them in their titties!”
“No wonder Casey is huge. She’s like a black Dolly Pardon or something!”
“Yup.” Sighs. Talk about a literal, fucking shame. Twenty-six and with pillows any man would be happy to be smothered by. Chocolate mound-joys a’plenty. A real cock-tease though was that pearly-grinned, Miss Casey. Words to bouncing body language right in your face. (Right and left of it. Oof.) “David, seriously, it is all an act? Not the black-stick she plays up, but the rest?”
“Yup. She must have kissed a lot of girls.” He made a ‘heart shape’ with both his arms, elbows extended out and fingers of his hands meeting his sternum and moved from side to side within the confines of the seat belts. “You should see her go swimming. Looks like those duck-wing floats the kids use at the Y, only they are in the front. She once said she could sleep without fear of drowning and I believe it!”
“Ouch!”
“Then Kimber said if she ever needed to sneak out of the house she knew right where to hide, only, her mother might accuse Casey of stealing the silverware if they popped out of her shirt any higher. The whole set could go down there!”
“Jesus, David, stop it. I’m trying to drive straight here, not make a right turn signal!”
“That’s funny!” he fell forwards with laughter, but quickly stopped, hand held to side of face. “Ouch.”
“Your tooth or the cheek?” Both were well enough along in the healing process, but I always got worried fast when ever he complained about anything; felt rage whenever I thought of something bad happening to him. Poor David had had a lot of bad in his life, and when something was wrong like hurting, emotional or physical, he hid it. So a small utterance meant a lot...or at least that was the excuse I gave myself for the level of concern I felt.
“Neither. I bit my tongue.”
“Serves you right, teasing an old man like that,” I grunted in relief. At least the relief of ‘some’ things.
“You’re not old,” he scoffed his usual and pushed his hair back. “But I have a better one. Something I read in one of Kimberly’s books about girls and cures for headaches. Even migraines.”
“Dare I even ask?”
“I don’t know if you can handle it.”
“All right, lay it on me. Then I’ll have some coffee. One crotch scorching is enough for the morning.”
“Okay, but I warned you. See this lady wrote a book, or more like a bunch of them. She’s like, really well known and popular, writes a lot about woman dealing with their own problems and alternative to drugs.”
“Enough with the damn buildup already.”
“All right, the lady said—and I really did read this—that if you feel a headache is coming on to plug in your vibrator and go for a happy joy ride!”
“Jesus Christ! You’re kidding me?”
“Nope. Has to do with muscles relaxing and increased blood flow around the temples. Nips the headache right in the bud.”
“No wonder she’s popular.”
“She sells a lot of books,” he agreed.
“Huh,” I muttered a minute later.
“What are you thinking?”
“That you have a secret which may well put your life in danger if other women realized you read their book.”
“How come?”
“Because, David, it is a well know fact that headaches are the number one excuse that a woman gives to her guy for not having sex.”
“Oh. Huh.” He thought about it. “So they are lying?”
“Yes, David, they are lying.” My fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter, “And they don’t even make a show of it; will look you right in the eye and lie to your face.”
“And you don’t say anything to them?”
“No, just sort of get used to it I guess, and after a while there just isn’t any point. Maybe deep down you realize as well it is better not to know their real reason.”
And then there was something far worse, like when they did great you eagerly after work, everything in life fine with no hint that there was something seriously wrong such as two year’s worth of constant, near daily betrayal...and they smiled right into your face when their body wrapped around yours.
My left eye started to squint so I reached a hand into my coat and pulled out a one of the several little plastic bottles kept there and popped the lid with practiced thumb for a couple of aspirin. “Hey, pour me some coffee there, will you?”
“I think you are only supposed to take six in a twenty-four hour period. People die from taking too many aspirin every year, you know.”
“They do?” I asked as I crunched four of them down. “Groovy.”
“Steven.”
“Leave me alone or the flask will come out and you’ll be the one driving. The roads are a little icy and even I know better than that.”
“I thought you left that home?” he frowned as the spill-resistant thermos cup was passed over.
“Nope.” Sip. Damn, he might not drink it, but David sure made a hell of a good brew. “Come on, kid, leave me something, because I did leave a worse item at home.”
“You did?” he said, face relaxing in relief. He had not said anything, but it was clear he thought I had brought The DVD with me.
The one my wife—ex-wife—had left me with on purpose. Explicit proof of infidelity made during several sessions in different areas of our home, the lying whore.
Talk about confident. She left that in the DVD player while going through a divorce with a lawyer! (Yeah, confident alright. She knew you would never show it to anyone else, you pathetic wimp.)
“Yup. Swear on my soul.” Softer, “David, I am going to try.”
“I know, Steven. And I just want to thank you again for letting me come on vacation with you. It is the best present I ever received.” (Because he knew I had not been planning to come back. Me and my damn mouth.) “Well, that and my pipe. I wish I had it with me.” His turn for face to go tight with memory.
“Don’t worry about that either. Guy said he’d have it fixed by mid-January the latest. Till then you’ll just have to settle for being Strider.”
“Can do,” he said with a smile and pulled out his long-stem.
“Man, I better watch the road carefully. Get hit with an airbag and you’d probably swallow it.”
“Then I’m glad more than ever that you are the one driving. I don’t think I can handle that on top of the eggshells.”
“Hey, lay off my cooking,” I winced ruefully. “Besides, the extra calcium is good for broken bones.”
“My cheek is fine, it’s my teeth I’m worried about. —I am just joking, Steven, I don’t think there was a single piece of shell in the omelet.”
“Really?”
“Really truly.”
Pause.
“It was a coffee bean.”
“No!”
“Yes.”
“Shit,” I flushed. “How the hell did a coffee bean get in there?”
“I don’t want to know. But if that was an subconscious attempt to get me to learn to like the stuff it didn’t work at all.”
“Sorry, David. The bag in the fridge must have had a hole it in. I just dumped in the leftover chicken from making the sandwiches without looking. Hey, was that a cool bean?” He laughed and I grinned. His expression, one we were both at a loss to discover the origin of.
Not bad enough I turn eggs into shrapnel, now I’ve got to watch our for coffee beans as well.
Ah well, what can you do, right?
Reached the edge of the city, god be praised, and David was turned around and clicking the shutter of his new digital camera; the one we called ‘mine’ though I had no interest in it.
“I thought you wanted trees?”
“This is the start of the trip. Sort of like proof of leaving. I won’t be taking any as we come back, because I don’t think I will like looking at them as much, even if the angle is better.”
As usual, that made sense to me.
“Not that I don’t want to come home,” he added quickly, “Only, I want to be able to remember this trip really well.”
“Got plenty of memory cards so let her rip. Think you can take a couple of the house for me? Be great to have that on my screen.”
“Sure! I really can’t wait to see the place you grew up in.”
“Me either. Fifteen years, man, I still can’t believe it has been that long... David, I am not prying or anything, yet it is not that much farther to Vermont from where we’re headed...?”
“No,” he said with adult finality.
“Works for me.” Not that I had any idea the kid was looking to be reunited with his father, yet as old Doc Samlin had said, those statue of limitations were a bitch. What the x-rays had revealed had had the old codger wishing he was years younger so he could visit the beating son of a bitch himself. From the description of things, even if I was in ballpark age with the asshole I imagined I could do a fairly decent job of payback. (Racquetball did keep you fit.) Not that I had ever been a violent man in any sense, was a pathetic wimp, actually. Still, people change, and after the year I had had, things bottled up, I had feeling if there were ever a need to help the kid, I’d manage really well.
“What are you smiling about?”
I was ‘smiling’ about a psychopath with a David-dented car and ‘buddies’ last seen being tossed in a grimy-iced dumpster with rats, yet I wasn’t about to bring that topic up. Kid still had nightmares after all. I knew, I had heard.
Had held his bandaged hand when he was still drugged to the nines after the emergency room in this very car, the young man trying to get the imaginary, hungry rats off of him while he still had hands left to do it with.
No more worries, kid, I’m on the case now. Just leave it all to me, you’re going to be just fine.
And if that asshole had managed to be discovered in the dumpster before the crunching dump truck came along without learning his lesson about leaving the kid alone, then I knew a certain street gorilla who’d grinningly give him another. And another, for as long as it took. Cheap, too. Sarge Brick figured every job he got was only worth a twenty.
I had a lot of twenties.
“Oh, just random stuff. Unlike the sleet and crap we’ve been getting back there, they had some snow a few days ago where we’re aimed for. Going to be sunny for a couple of days, but the weather guy was saying we might get a good foot or two in a few. We timed this perfectly. Hey, did I mention there was a fireplace? A working one?”
“There is? Wow.”
“Mm-hmm. More trouble then they are worth, but you forget all about drafts and chasing squirrels and bats out when you see that stack of logs burn as the snow comes down outside the windows. The house is old, but back when it was built they did things right. Of course baseboard heating was put in, electric stove and all that, yet even when the power didn’t go out Aunt Lillian put some things on now and then. Mulled cider over a real fire, David, nothing else like it in the world.”
“I’ve never made that before.”
“Me either. Ah well.”
“I can’t see as it could be all that hard though.”
“Maybe not, think it’s a matter of tossing in cinnamon and some other things, only the way she made it, man. Not store bought, one of the neighbors had an orchard and every fall we would stop by his farm and pick up the cider direct from the source. She added fresh apples as well, made large batches. Between that always simmering and the smell of a fresh cut balsam, it’s no wonder that was my favorite time of year.
“Wish you could have met her, David. I really do.”
“So do I. Every time you talk about her...well, she seemed really special.”
“That she was, kid. Again, I should have known.”
“About what?”
“Sheila didn’t like her at all. As for Aunt Lillian, she never said a thing; was of a mind that people should be allowed to make their own choices in life. Ah, David, I was such a fool.”
“I think your Aunt is still taking care of you.”
“She’s been dead for fifteen years, David. Don’t try telling me you believe in ghosts, too?” I scoffed.
“No, what I mean is just by thinking of her you were able to say that aloud without your head starting to hurt.”
“Huh.”
“You also told me that no matter the bitch wanted you to sell your house you kept it, even when it was hard to do so. And now it is there waiting for you when you need it most. That’s why I say your aunt is still taking care of you, and that maybe you aren’t as much of a fool as you think.”
“How old are you again?” I asked, hardly the first time since I’d met him.
“Not too old to ask if we can get some marshmallows when we go to the store to buy spices? For the fireplace I mean?”
“It’s a deal.”
“Great! I’m going to take pictures of that as well. Kimber is going to get real jealous then. She kicked me last time.”
“What? Oh, kid, what did you say to the girl this time?”
“Nothing much, only that if she didn’t stop hogging the gravy she was going to have to wear a one-piece on her vacation or else people would mistake her for a roasted turkey on the beach.”
“And you call me suicidal? Damn, kid!”
“It was her fault, she needed a soup bowl instead of a plate the way she was going at it.”
Even if it was really bad news, part of me asked hopefully, “David, you two kids were just meditating together in your room that time, right?”
“I told you we were. Geesh, Steven, come on,” he snorted in disgust.
Ah well, so much for that little blond button ‘straightening’ the kid out. What a shame, they’d make a fine looking family. Blond and blond with laughing children to match. A relationship with foundation of friendship and mutual support, they would last the course.
Ah well.
“Just saying.”
“Well speak for yourself. I told you she was friends with Casey.”
“No fucking way! Little Kimberly?”
“Yup,” he nodded firmly.
“Man, no wonder she gives her mother fits all the time.” And here I thought it was because Casey was black! (Apparently the girl’s mother was a real, nose-high, ‘upper’-class, snob.)
But little Kimberly? That month-shy of twenty year old, chipper little button who was always giggling and stomping her tiny foot in anger when she wasn’t kicking David for his mouth? My god, what the hell was going on with this world? Seemed like every time I turned around someone was jumping out of a closet, for Christ’s sake.
Then again, my best (only) friend was David.
God help me.
“Hey, is that why they call them cooters?”
“Bite your tongue again,” I laughed. “And it is hooters.”
“I know, I was just joking. Why though?”
“Probably because when a babe like Casey juggles by a guy’s eyes go wide as an owl’s. Some are even known to go ‘woo-hoo’!” Or in my case, Yowza, mama!
So there, I am not a queer. Only, Casey was a lesbian...god, the tragedy of it all.
“Well, that makes sense at least. Better than ‘cool beans’.”
“Try ‘wavy gravy’.”
“No thanks. Means they added too much flour. I hate lumpy gravy.”
“Ha!”
“Speaking of, what do you want for the holiday dinner?” Amongst other things, the kid was a chef; said he learned it while living above, as well as working in a restaurant for a couple of years.
“Christmas dinner, you mean?” He nodded. “Haven’t thought about it.”
“What did your aunt make?”
“Goose, of course.”
“Well that’s what we’ll have. Again, I’ve never cooked one, but I can try.”
“I note you didn’t say ‘we’ there.”
“Well...”
“There were eggshells. Crap, I am hopeless.”
“Not that time, Steven. Just the bean.”
“I think I’m cursed.”
“Not while I’m on the case.”
“What do you mean? Brought some weeds with you?”
A shrug, “Just some white sage. I won’t burn any in the house though, just outside.”
“Nah, do what you want, kid. It wasn’t that bad, just different.”
He was blushing a bit, “I brought a couple of other things as well. Some of the frankincense and stuff you gave me.”
“Just in time for Christmas. I never figured out how they use it though. In church, I mean.”
“You burn it on charcoal. It is a sort of dried sap which melts for the smell.”
“Too bad. I don’t think you are going to find briquettes at the grocery store this time of year.”
“Geesh, Steven, you have a lot to learn.”
“Old dogs and new tricks, kid. So, you going to come to mass with me?”
“If you want me to,” he said, but his smile didn’t look too convincing.
“It’s more than just some guy yakking at you up on ‘stage’, David.”
“I said I’d go. Fair is fair, you let me burn my weeds in the apartment and in your house after all.”
“David, I swear there are times I do not understand you at all.”
“I know, but you’re young yet,” the half-my-age scamp said and wrinkled his nose with a grin. What a the little elf.
Not quite a foot of snow had fallen in the area, but the service had plowed the long driveway so the beamer made it fine, David leaning forwards on the dash looking in excitement as we pulled up stopped before the house.
“Wow. Steven, it is...it is just so great!”
“Yup.” Over seven hours to get here due to some of the road conditions and fact I had to study maps. Fifteen years was a long time, memory only granting so much even without all the ‘progress’ changes that had happened during the interim.
I was not the first out of the car (not that old, my aching ass) and it was a lot of stretching and yawns, shakes of legs, before I left side of the clicking car and went up the walk with keys jingling.
Saying as I worked the lock, “The main part of the house should be all set, had the service come in and get things ready. Probably have to do some dusting in the side rooms, pulls sheets off of stuff, but at least it won’t be too bad.”
“I don’t care. Come on, already!”
“Hang on, the thing is cold.” Click. “I got it,” and swung opened the door to memory. Man, I was home. “Just let me turn the thermostat up and then I’ll start bringing stuff in. Have fun exploring, just don’t get eaten by a ravenous dust bunny.”
“Steven, my leg is fine, really.”
“The way you’re bouncing about I can tell. Still, you don’t want to risk a fall so soon.”
“It was just a bad bruise and that was weeks ago. My hip is fine, my leg is fine and the rest of me is fine, too.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll show you where the kitchen is and you can start bringing in the groceries. I’ll get the clothes and stuff and bring them into the living room. You have your pick of four different bedrooms.”
“Cool beans.”
“Maybe that is what it means, because it is going to take a while for the other rooms to heat up. Thought why a pair of frozen ones is used to convey something you like...man, I just don’t want to know!”
So we unpacked the car (we’d have to do more grocery shopping later, these were just the basic staples) brought in clothes and new sheets in case any mice had gotten into the storage boxes.
The folks who kept watch of the place had done a good job of cleaning the front rooms, thing they came in to do every two years anyway, and the rest weren’t too horrible either. David just picked the first room we walked into and started pulling off tarps while I checked that the washer and dryers had been plugged in and the hoses weren’t rotted away. They were fine; minor maintenances like this and keeping the chimneys clear were in the contract, same as repainting shutters and a new roof put on five years back.
All right, a few things had received a little nibbling, yet the quilts had been well sealed, storage bags compressed in plastic tubs and nothing came loose in the washing. Handmade by family members who expected these things to be around for generations to come. Too bad I was the end of the line.
Awe, Shell, why? What was wrong with me that I wasn’t good enough for you? Told me you did not want children, ever...and then had called me on my forty-first birthday, demanding the trust funds I had set aside in case she ever did changed her mind, because her and the guy she had left me for were expecting.
Of course I had said no.
“That’s your problem, Steven, you don’t do anything—for anybody! Not in any way!”
“Leave me alone, Shell,” I whispered uselessly. No, it was no use, even knowing the truth, I just could not let her go.
Worse, when it came time to unwrap my old room (thing I wanted to do alone) there was a framed photo on the dresser that I had forgotten all about till seeing it. The two of us before we had gotten married.
I sat on the bed, a four-poster, with it in held my hands. “My god, we were just kids. Hell, I’m younger than David in this thing...” I muttered as I ran a thumb across the glass. Smiling away, the both of us, arms about the other. Green eyes matching due to a little Irish in both our lines down the way. Wave to both our hair except mine was black and only curled when wet. Same height, (her long legs were to die for,) same first letter names...we were a match made from day one and had known it.
What happened to these people? When did the jokes I was always cracking stop making this girl burst out in giggles and punch my arm to stop? When did her eyes change? Loose that innocent spirit and go hard with cold calculation?
When had I started to bore her?
Oh, Shell, honey, what did I do wrong? “I tried, Shell, I really did. You wanted something and I saw you had it. Yes, I had to work long hours and you complained sometimes, but never about the shopping you loved to do; dinners out every night, parties you catered in the apartment which was mostly yours.” I was New England country and she had been from Boston. Not an affluent family or anything, yet she loved trendy modern and fashionable chic over antiques made with purposeful thought and skill to last the ages.
I should take one of the guest rooms myself. Yes, this is my place completely here, but... Only one I had ever had in this bed was her. This one in the photo, the smiling girl who could have been a model gracing any of the top magazines...if it hadn’t been more work than glamour.
What a body...more, just look at that hair. (Only thing that had not changed no matter the years and life lived between was her hair. Long, amber with flowing curls to bury your face in.) God, how my fingers ached to touch it; feel that silk wrap around them...
Don’t do it, Steven.
“Shut up,” I snarled and turned the frame over; the small plastic bag’s tape coming off dry and brittle where it had held one of those locks in wait. I should wait, I really should. But I didn’t, and opening the bag took it out to touch.
Brought it up to my nose and inhaled, hoping...nothing. No more smell of sunlight and delicate spring flowers, nothing left at all except color and meaningless texture.
Everything inside is gone, Shell. Shells. Yes, Sheila, that is what we both are now, only you aren’t a hollow one left on the shore, the living thing inside dead and gone; an hard exterior, gutted and empty.
Shit, my head hurts...
This was going to be one of the bad ones, I could tell. No aspirin for this baby, nope, it was out with the prescription, dry swallowed and then lie back on the stripped bed, arm over my eyes and teeth gritted to wait it out for a couple hours.
At least I had managed to shove the picture under the mattress before the kid came looking, calling down the hallway if I needed any help or wanted some coffee or anything.
Pretend I am asleep and he’ll just go away.
“Hey, Ste...oh,” I heard him finish softly.
That’s right, kid, the old man is catching a few Z’s after the long drive. Just go away and play.
Except the little shit didn’t do that, oh no, not David. Tiptoed in and started taking off my shoes, placing them on the side of the bed. Left and came back quiet as he could with one of the quilts fresh from the dryer to cover me up, only when he was leaning over to get the heavy thing across the other side things jarred and a whimper of pain escaped despite myself.
“Steven? Are you awake?” he asked the question very, very, quietly while cymbals crashed in my ears and blood sloshed.
Yup, I’m snoring away here, kid. Just riding along with the old sandman, the jackhammers just about finishing their way through the skull before they start looking for oil in my spine.
David, please, for the love of God, just go away.
Hateful, pathetic moue when fingers brushed top of my head, then it was tears for mixed reasons when he sat down and, carefully as he could, lifted my head so it would be on his lap and the massage began, the only thing which ever stopped the agony.
Only thing that Shell had ever helped with. Just simple stress headaches from work back then, not these plaguing curses that had you begging for a bullet...or cursing the fact you couldn’t see to work the phone and promise her anything—everything—if she would just come over to help you.
It was half gratitude and half hatred that I still felt for David, for that time he had refused to make the call for me.
Only, something special happened that time, you know it did, Steven. Something special for you both. Something comforting.
Yes, I do know...and I hate myself all the more for it. Never again though. Could not allow it. No, I would not fall into that awaiting trap created by my own psychological fucked-uppedness.
You are poison, Steven Joseph Hanscom. Everything you touch turns to shit. Something you did—did not do—for that girl in the photo. Failed somewhere, could not give Shell what she really wanted. You loved her and you still failed. Person like you deserve everything you get, Steven, so be a man and suck it up. This pain is your punishment, your penance. You are evil and sick and nothing is hidden from the One watching above.
You almost destroyed this young man once, Steven. Do not make it worse. Let him have his vacation, and then have your accident. Do something right for someone else for once, not something wrong.
Stop this before you make things worse.
Tried to get up, at least lift my head—hissed as bolt of agony returned sharp and sudden...failure again as body itself betrayed me; jaws clenching and prayed something would give, crack and let my brains leak out, just get it over with...just anything else except this helpless giving in as head was eased back into place.
“Relax, Steven,” David whispered as hands worked around the base where top of spine was met. After a while eased my trembling arm down so he could get the sinuses and temples. Air; able to breathe again without iron spikes following every breath.
Heaven...and hell.
Yes, relaxed completely as the pain faded, whole body grateful with shoulders loosing last bit of tension as two hands’ worth of fingers continued working on top of my head.
“Why didn’t you call me?” he chastised softly.
“As someone I know is so fond of saying: I can take care of myself.”
“Uh-huh. Too bad you aren’t a girl.”
“No, David, it is too bad you aren’t.”
The hands stopped and I closed my eyes again. Shit.
“Steven...you mean that?”
He deserved the truth, “Yes. I’m sorry, kid. I wish things were different, but they’re not.”
“I am sorry, too...because being what I am I can not help you with what you really need, which is not to be alone all the time. I hate that over everything else, Steven, that look in your eyes that says even when there are people all around you, you are alone.” Hitched intake of breath, “You told me you don’t want me in your life and I understand, I really do, only, this is the first time I ever wished I had been born a woman, because you need someone, even briefly, to help you heal...but I wasn’t and I can’t. I’m sorry, Steven.”
“David, don’t say that.” Oh god, David, you insightful little angel, please, just shut up.
“But it’s true! It wasn’t my fault, Steven. I didn’t mean to be born wrong and I’m sorry.”
“David, for god’s sake, stop it. You were not born wrong.”
“You don’t believe that. I know you don’t.”
“Then here’s where you are wrong, kid, because no matter the rest—meaning the stuff that I, the Christian, son of a bitch, bigot, can’t deal with—you were born exactly as you were meant to be and there is nothing wrong and nothing to be sorry about. You are a damn fine human being, David Tyler, and I wish to god there were a lot more like you around because this world would be a much better place if there were.”
“Thank you, Steven.”
“No, thank you, David. Thank you, and please forgive me because I am the one who is so god damn sorry.” There, I had said it. Said all of it...and still felt like shit. Upset, angry, disgusted and in turmoil because I was so screwed up that I truly meant every word. Fact that this young man was the only thing I cared about, the only human being who mitigated anything, the loneliness, the lack of companionship, and had given me a task, an purpose, a reason to hang onto this thing called life for even this long.
Only, David, it is not enough. I’ll try as long as I can, only brought you with me because if I hadn’t you would have lost yourself. Had said with all truth that when I went out the door so would he, just walk away with nothing but the clothes on his back; lesson well learned from the old man that life was shit, there was no reason to fight to hold onto anything so why bother to struggle anymore? Why laugh or smile or wish to achieve anything? There was no point, knowing only that no matter what you did or tried to hold onto, everything you had, anything cared about, would be taken away from you and there was nothing you could do about it.
So I will try, David, only do not give up hope when an accident does happen. It won’t be your fault kid, not your failure, only a ‘natural’ fact of life.
David, my friend, please forgive me, there is nothing left to heal. Please, kid, let me go.
“I guess the Tara is working.”
“Huh?” I asked, blinking up at him as he sniffled away the last of his tears.
Oh, David. God damn me over and over because I am so, fucking, sorry!
“The Tara, the green one. I mean because you said that, fact that no matter what you were taught and feel, you still also feel that I am not wrong because of who I am. That’s really, really, rare, Steven.”
“You lost me, kid. I bought that little statue for the mini herb garden in the kitchen, which I still haven’t started. Green for plants, right?”
“Nope. Green Tara brings enlightenment of the spirit.”
“That too, eh? She’s a pretty busy lady, that topless gal.”
“Maybe she just focuses on those who help themselves?”
“Don’t push it, kid,” I snorted as he grinned. Then more seriously, “David, you really do not want to go to church with me, do you?”
“No, but I will because you want me too.”
“It only means anything if you are the one who wants to go, David. But I am not going to be upset if you choose not to, I give you my word.
“You know, sometimes I get the feeling you are laughing at me a little, because I choose to go to that ‘building’ as you call it instead of connect with things inside wherever I am.” Because David had said since God made everything, including us, it was a stupid concept that people thought they could only go to a building for such communion. That they thought they needed someone else, someone ‘better’ than them to speak, and listen, to God.
He shook his head, just as serious, “Not at all, Steven. I think you should keep going and find whatever you can there. I really mean it, because that is who you are.”
“Even if it makes me a bigot,” I snorted.
“Actually, I don’t think that is what it is about. I am not an expert, yet I think being a Christian has a lot more to do with other things than that. Lots of really fine stuff, only the guys up on stage forgot something important.”
“Like what?” I asked, fascinated.
“That there is more to God than one book that’s been re-written over and over by people who weren’t even there. That opinions where made by those same people, and not all of them were the type to be listened to, yet they were and believed.”
“Huh.”
“Yup.”
“Tell me, kid, how did you get to be so smart?”
He just smiled, “I read a lot of books...and then I thought about it and looked inside.”
“Said it before and I’ll say it again. If you are the Second Coming I am so messed up.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not. I’m just me.” He looked down, question in his blue with green fleck eyes, “Steven?”
“No, David. Thank you, though, I am fine. I am, I mean it. Besides, we still have a lot to do around the house today, not to mention head into town for more groceries and stuff.”
“Okay. Just remember what I told you, Steven, because I meant it as well.”
“I know you did, David. Thank you. Now, I think I would like to catch a quick nap. Just an hour or so. Leave the door open so the dust doesn’t asphyxiate me though, thanks.” So there, proof I am not going to jack-off when you go. Wasn’t that so thoughtful of me? Christ.
He nodded and left, and surprisingly, I drifted right off to peaceful dreams instead of nightmares.
First order of business was to get some real food beyond tea and coffee for the homestead. No more little grocers downtown, (though there was a bakery) just one of those mega places where you could find everything from plant fertilizer to seafood. (Scallops tonight. Yum.)
A quick drive on the way here had brought painful discovery that the old smoke shop was gone. Little hope that it had just moved, yet I was going to check the directory later, just in case.
Still, no matter the latest current, asinine trend of society, the place still had a token for some items, and David had picked up a ‘drug-store’ brand for his pipe. Of course he could use my stash, yet he was new and still experimenting. Not to mention a stubborn little bastard when it came to presents. Well, Christmas would take care of that. I win!
In the grocery line, David putting away his ID, “It seems kind of dumb to me. You know, fact that you can drive a car—a huge responsibility because if you were in an accident you could kill someone, meaning you need a lot of accountability; can vote for President, and even join the army and risk dying years before you can buy anything tobacco? I mean, what does that say about people? Fact that they can do all that other stuff, while at same time saying they aren’t competent enough to make a personal choice like that?”
“You got me there, kid. Then again, we are just lawyers. We don’t make the laws, just sort of serve them.”
“That’s the wrong way to think, Steven,” he said firmly, that touch of steel in eyes and voice. “Another reason that I am going into defense, because sometimes laws are wrong, made to serve some agenda or something, and people need protection from them.”
Handing my plastic to the cashier, “Wish you luck, kid, and you better not turn down that inheritance, because I have the feeling with the kind of clients you are going to take on, there won’t be many goose dinners in your future.”
“I’ve never had one before and did just fine.”
“Well if the cooking of this bastard was left to me, you probably would be spared the problem.”
“Not worried about that either. Just keep your coffee beans on the lower shelf.”
“And myself in the living room. Got’ch ya.”
“Nope, you are going to help.”
I took up an armload of bags, “See, you do have a death wish.”
“Nope, just determination. You are going to make the cranberry sauce.”
“Fine. Wait right here and I’ll go grab some cans. I’ll pop the lids on those suckers so fast your head will spin.”
“Uh-uh.”
“Come on, David. These things are supposed to go on trees, not the table,” I jerked my chin at one of the plastic baggies of hard red berries on top of my bundle.
“Only one bag with the popcorn, the rest go on the stove.”
“I suppose I wouldn’t get out of this even if one of my fingers ended up on the garland, would I?”
“Nope.”
“Good thing there’s plenty of Band-Aids. That’s Chinese, right? Death of a thousand cuts?”
“This is where I remind you that I haven’t apologized for anything in an hour.”
“Ouch, ya got me.” And even though I was holding groceries, I thought I did a pretty good imitation of a cowboy who’d just been drilled in the heart as I staggered back. Double points, because I did not slip on any ice and really go down to break my neck.
“Stop it.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Good, you should be.”
“Ouch! Someone on the rag today or what?”
“Geesh, Steven, come on. And don’t touch my sherry, either. That is for the cherries.”
“No problem-o,” I said as things were put into the trunk, telling bottle glass clinking. “I’m all set in that department.”
“You should go back to beer.”
“This is for eggnog, I shall have you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Mind your own business, David. You are the one who wanted to come along with me, remember.”
“Sorry.”
“Got ya!” I aimed a finger and ‘banged’.
“Hey!” I laughed as he flushed upset. “No fair!”
“That’s life, kid. get used to it.”
“I am. I just don’t like it much.”
“Ah, David,” I said and reached out to rub his hatted head, close to tousling as possible, yet he still grinned and ducked it. “All right then, this stuff should keep in the trunk for a bit. What shall it be, back for more dusting or you want to go walk around town for a bit?”
“Well, the vegetables should be fine in the back seat, so if it is okay, I would like to go window shopping at the antique place we passed before it closes. They really decorated the front nice.
