DONE AND UNDONE
Violet sat on her berth below deck with the door locked, and patiently sewed the stones one at a time into her clothing. Three small ones were stitched meticulously into the hem of her skirt. One more into the waistband. One in each cuff of her jacket. She placed the remaining four larger stones into plastic capsules and inserted them into her rectum. She then laid back across the bed with an exhausted sense of accomplishment.
These stones, if moved as planned, would create a small fortune. She and Balthazaar could live care free. Her mother too, and Ricardo. In her sleep she felt as though a cold hand was moving over her body. It felt pleasant at first, but then more insistent. Squeezing. Tugging at her. She awoke abruptly to find a man on top of her, pulling down his pants. She screamed and yanked his thick and greasy hair with both hands. His fist came up, it was the last thing she remembered.
THE PREGNANT PAUSE
Balthazaar paced nervously around the motel room smoking cigarettes. He stopped now and then at the window to peer down onto the streets of Tampico.
"Something has gone wrong," he thought to himself. "She should have been back hours ago." He picked up his binoculars and looked out to the docks where he had watched her board the boat.
From his room at the old hotel he had watched the several men talking to her on the pier. They appeared to be cordial and polite. Kissing her hand in greeting - gesturing grandly to their boat where the deal would go down. But, in this trade, it is the middle-men you have to worry about. Between the source of any high dollar commodity and its destination they are the necessary ones who move the item, be it diamonds, guns, drugs, women, or children. And they can be cut-throat and hungry and always looking for ways to play both sides. Coyotes in tailored suits can never be taken for granted. There was a sense of panic as he had watched them help her onto the boat. They would be gone for several hours.
He had watched the boat grow smaller and smaller out there on the waters of the gulf. He had watched until he couldn't see them anymore. He pulled a chair up next to the window and lit a cigarette, looking nervously at his watch. He thought about that day when the Americans in their space ship had circled around and disappeared on the dark side of the moon. There was no communication after that, and the world had held its breath. There was no turning back now. And Violet had disappeared somewhere out there on the dark side of the moon. He picked up his binoculars and scanned along the horizon of the empty sea.
THE VERY IDEA
Balthazaar thought back about that night when they had all sat around Josephina's table mapping out the plan. He and Violet had fantasized the notion of pulling off a deal of some kind. It was a joke at first, over wine. How to make a quick buck. A one time move that would make life easy. Josephina was talking about a major jade deposit that had been discovered in central South America, and how it quickly disappeared when an earthquake had created a lake in the valley beneath which the jade vein had been found. It was said to be a lost fortune. They had so many laughs imagining ways to be rich. Violet thought they should get a small printing outfit and figure out how to counterfeit money. But, it was Ricardo who took it all to another place.
Ricardo had a very organized mind. He was like an engineer, in ways. So he began to map out an idea. A plan. The whole mood of the conversation got more serious when he mentioned a contact he had in South Africa. An old friend from school days. His friend had been sent down there to consult with a firm that was specializing in precious metals and stones.
"So basically, my friend realized he might find his own niche in working with these people," Ricardo said. "To help them move such materials to the marketplace most effectively. He was keen on marketing. He knew how to make them more money. After awhile, he was doing quite well. In fact, over liquor one night he told me he had figured out ways to move some diamonds himself, independent of this firm he worked for.
"Are you still in touch with your friend?" Balthazaar remembered asking him. Ricardo nodded. They had all looked back and forth at each other that night. And they had agreed that it just might be possible to do it. It didn't seem all that scary at the time. But that was then, and this is now.
GOING SOUTH
Balthazaar drove away from Tampico knowing something was wrong. Violet had not returned as planned. He cursed himself for allowing her to board that boat. Ricardo had thought she would be perfect for the job. He had agreed. They all had agreed. Violet could hypnotize men with a simple glance.
He headed south along the coast stopping at one port after another looking for that boat she had left on. He felt increasingly desperate. He stopped to rest in Tuxpan. At a bar he sat nursing beers. His mind was overflowing with both the memories of his love, and the questions of where she was now. It is maddening when things go wrong and you don't know why. A young man sat down next to him. A mestizo. He said his name was Pablo, but you never know who anyone really is in places such as this. He was on the road, he said. Headed north.
"Would you do me this favor?" Balthazaar asked. "I need to send a dear friend a message. Are you going through Cerro Azul by any chance?"
The young man shrugged.
"I hadn't planned to, but I could, I suppose." Balthazaar smiled.
"Where are you headed?" he asked the adventurous boy.
"America," he replied with a big toothy grin. Balthazaar smiled again.
"It's possible, if you know the right people. I have a friend in Cerro Azul. Her name is Dona Ana Villalobos. If you would give my message to her, she would know what to do with it - where it must go next. And she would know who might help you with where you want to go."
Balthazaar sat there at the bar and penned his note to Ricardo.
From Balthazaar...
08, July
"I squat somewhere in the clutter of crumpled papers on the floor in this room somewhere in the back of my mind....."
REALITY CHECK
Violet opened her eyes to a blurry stream of light pouring in from a window high above. She was captured for a moment by the particles of dust floating about in those rays like gnats on a sticky summer day. Her second thought was,
"Where am I?" She looked around quite confused at the strangeness she had awakened to. She wondered if she was still dreaming. It was so barren. Some place of abandonment. Some remnant of a bygone factory cold and dead. She fell back to the floor and passed out again.
When she woke up again, it was the same as before. Except more real. She was naked on the floor. A few feet away her clothes sat in a heap. She could tell by their tattered condition that the diamonds were gone. She pushed herself up on one elbow, and felt an overwhelming pain throughout her body. She fell back and passed out again. Her dreams were of many men between her legs. Dicking her. Hurting her. Holding her down. She awoke in a sweat and sat painfully up. Her body was bruised. Her arms were like lead. Her skin here and there encrusted with the dried scum of men getting off. She brushed it off feeling both disgust and some sense of strange shame come over her. There were empty needles on the floor. She counted them mechanically, wondering how many had raped her. Laying back down she ran her hand over her buttocks and felt for the capsules with her finger. She could feel two capsules. The other two, she would have to shit out if she lived to be that lucky. She passed out again.
to be continued...
Monday, February 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Evidence of Violet end of chapter one...
THE SLEEPING PRINCESS
They made it up the dark and winding road that ran countless zig-zags up the western slopes of the Sierra Madre Oriental range, and arrived in La Coma in the state of Tamaulipas just before dawn. On up above the small town, the snow-capped peaks seemed outlined in the first red glow of the sun just coming up on the other side.
Josephina pointed up toward it.
"Look, Ricardo, she lies there blushing," she said. He followed her gaze up the mountainside. The profile of the mountain top was said to resemble that of a woman reclining. Locals called her La Mujer Dormida, the 'sleeping woman', or sometimes,'the sleeping princess'. In ancient Aztec lore the formation had been known as Iztaccihuati; named after a legendary Aztec princess. For many years mixed blood Mestizos of the region have carried the legend forward even to this day. Josephina told him some Aztec blood courses through her, making her a Mestizo. And she recounted to him the ancient tragic love story of the princess and her warrior lover, Popocatepeti, numerous times.
"Popocatepeti was one of her father's warriors," she said. "She was led to believe her lover had died in war and so she then died of grief, not knowing it was a lie. When Popocatepeti returned from war, he was stricken with grief. He buried his princess, and the gods covered her with a white blanket of snow." She pointed to a volcano just north of The Sleeping Princess. "And there Popocatetepi is today. And now and then his anguish and rage still spills forth as molten red tears of lava."
They spent what little was left of the night at El Mirador, a small inn whose rooms were above a cantina by the same name. Hours later, they awoke to see how the sun had risen and how its rays now radiated away from The Sleeping Princess with a light so blinding one could not stare at her for long.
THE AIR
The morning air in the cantina was a mouth-watering mix of chile peppers roasting, chorizo in the skillets, and the aromatic fragrance of goat's head soup simmering in a wine based broth. A handful of locals sat at a long wooden table engaged in animated noisy conversation as a dark and lovely young girl replenished their coffee cups. A young couple from the states sat at a table by the window, their backpacks leaned up against the wall nearby. Outsiders came through La Coma for off-the- beaten-path kinds of experiences. Trails leading up the mountainside toward The Sleeping Princess ridge were popular with rugged hikers. There were waterfalls and an icy mountain lake along the way. And from atop the ridge the view to the other side was panoramic as the mountains descended into foothills that tumbled on down eventually to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico not quite visible some 200 miles away in the distance. And if one was particularly lucky one might glimpse an increasingly rare Andean condor gracefully circling and gliding as it rode a rising column of thermal updraft.
Josephina chattered with the cook in her native tongue. It had something to do with the soup. Did they remove the brain and prepare it separately, or leave it cooking in the skull? The brain was her favorite part. Josephina told her that her daughter Violet likes to come up to these mountains sometimes.
"Violet?" the woman repeated, with a nod. "Si, Violet. Very pretty, no?"
"Si," Josephina smiled.
Over breakfast, Josephina told Riccardo that the cook remembered Violet passing through a few weeks ago.
"And was Balthazaar with her?" he asked.
"I was afraid to ask for fear she might think we were looking for them," Josephina replied.
"Most likely they would have still been together at this point," Riccardo speculated. "If they somehow got separated, I think it would have been more likely over along the coast. In Tampico, maybe. Or somewhere along the way from there to Veracruz."
"How far away is Tampico?" Josephina asked.
"It shouldn't be too bad a drive. We are maybe thirty minutes away from the pass up and over to the east side of the mountains. It's a long downhill from there all the way to the coast. Maybe six or seven hours."
"Shall we go then?" Josephina asked.
"In a little while. First lets go back to our room and rest a bit more."
"Rest, Ricardo?" she smiled slyly.
"Yes. A little nap," he said. She laughed.
"Ricardo. Do you think I don't know what it is you are wanting?" He laughed in response. She stood and reached out her hand. "Come my little boy. I will give you what you need."
CHAPTER TWO
THE WAY STONES FEEL
Violet crossed her legs and leaned back, watching the men on the boat moving about and eying her. She sipped her drink, pretending not to notice their constant glances. At her legs. At her breasts. Her hair, a shaggy sun-bleached unbrushed mop. Her skin the color of wet sand. Her lips, a parched and cracked reddish brown. She was skinny almost to an anorexic fault. She gazed out at the sea in a dreamy way, but all the while knowing they all wanted to fuck her. She was in the company of dangerous men. But she had a good grip on it. Men and their dicks are no match for her.
In her hand bag were the essentials. Lipstick, a couple of condoms, a passport, a chrome-plated revolver, and an envelope full of money. She was ready to pull any of these from her purse, whatever the situation required. Balthazaar had thought of everything. Still her pulse was rapid. The adrenaline of knowing this is the real deal.
He sat down next to her.
"A sweet air mixed with salt, eh?" he said, inhaling the sea air. Violet turned to look at his pretentious face.
"Do you have something for me, or not?" she said, in a seductive voice. He placed a hand lightly on her knee and began to slide it up under her dress. She brushed it aside. "I am talking about business here, not pleasure."
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss....?"
"Miss Nobody to you." she said boldly, her hand already dipping into her purse for better or worse.
"Yes, of course, I am a man of my word." he said, fumbling in his pocket. Violet's fingers curled around the gun in her purse as she watched him. He produced a small cloth bag and emptied it into his palm. "Is this what you are looking for, perhaps?" The snarl on his lips as he said it, made her want to kill him on the spot. Instead, she just nodded. She let go of the gun and fumbled for the envelope of cash He poured the stones into her slender hand. She closed her fingers around them. She handed him the envelope. Now, it was just a matter of getting home alive.
WHAT WENT DOWN IN TAMPICO? (to be continued...)
They made it up the dark and winding road that ran countless zig-zags up the western slopes of the Sierra Madre Oriental range, and arrived in La Coma in the state of Tamaulipas just before dawn. On up above the small town, the snow-capped peaks seemed outlined in the first red glow of the sun just coming up on the other side.
Josephina pointed up toward it.
"Look, Ricardo, she lies there blushing," she said. He followed her gaze up the mountainside. The profile of the mountain top was said to resemble that of a woman reclining. Locals called her La Mujer Dormida, the 'sleeping woman', or sometimes,'the sleeping princess'. In ancient Aztec lore the formation had been known as Iztaccihuati; named after a legendary Aztec princess. For many years mixed blood Mestizos of the region have carried the legend forward even to this day. Josephina told him some Aztec blood courses through her, making her a Mestizo. And she recounted to him the ancient tragic love story of the princess and her warrior lover, Popocatepeti, numerous times.
"Popocatepeti was one of her father's warriors," she said. "She was led to believe her lover had died in war and so she then died of grief, not knowing it was a lie. When Popocatepeti returned from war, he was stricken with grief. He buried his princess, and the gods covered her with a white blanket of snow." She pointed to a volcano just north of The Sleeping Princess. "And there Popocatetepi is today. And now and then his anguish and rage still spills forth as molten red tears of lava."
They spent what little was left of the night at El Mirador, a small inn whose rooms were above a cantina by the same name. Hours later, they awoke to see how the sun had risen and how its rays now radiated away from The Sleeping Princess with a light so blinding one could not stare at her for long.
THE AIR
The morning air in the cantina was a mouth-watering mix of chile peppers roasting, chorizo in the skillets, and the aromatic fragrance of goat's head soup simmering in a wine based broth. A handful of locals sat at a long wooden table engaged in animated noisy conversation as a dark and lovely young girl replenished their coffee cups. A young couple from the states sat at a table by the window, their backpacks leaned up against the wall nearby. Outsiders came through La Coma for off-the- beaten-path kinds of experiences. Trails leading up the mountainside toward The Sleeping Princess ridge were popular with rugged hikers. There were waterfalls and an icy mountain lake along the way. And from atop the ridge the view to the other side was panoramic as the mountains descended into foothills that tumbled on down eventually to the shores of the Gulf of Mexico not quite visible some 200 miles away in the distance. And if one was particularly lucky one might glimpse an increasingly rare Andean condor gracefully circling and gliding as it rode a rising column of thermal updraft.
Josephina chattered with the cook in her native tongue. It had something to do with the soup. Did they remove the brain and prepare it separately, or leave it cooking in the skull? The brain was her favorite part. Josephina told her that her daughter Violet likes to come up to these mountains sometimes.
"Violet?" the woman repeated, with a nod. "Si, Violet. Very pretty, no?"
"Si," Josephina smiled.
Over breakfast, Josephina told Riccardo that the cook remembered Violet passing through a few weeks ago.
"And was Balthazaar with her?" he asked.
"I was afraid to ask for fear she might think we were looking for them," Josephina replied.
"Most likely they would have still been together at this point," Riccardo speculated. "If they somehow got separated, I think it would have been more likely over along the coast. In Tampico, maybe. Or somewhere along the way from there to Veracruz."
"How far away is Tampico?" Josephina asked.
"It shouldn't be too bad a drive. We are maybe thirty minutes away from the pass up and over to the east side of the mountains. It's a long downhill from there all the way to the coast. Maybe six or seven hours."
"Shall we go then?" Josephina asked.
"In a little while. First lets go back to our room and rest a bit more."
"Rest, Ricardo?" she smiled slyly.
"Yes. A little nap," he said. She laughed.
"Ricardo. Do you think I don't know what it is you are wanting?" He laughed in response. She stood and reached out her hand. "Come my little boy. I will give you what you need."
CHAPTER TWO
THE WAY STONES FEEL
Violet crossed her legs and leaned back, watching the men on the boat moving about and eying her. She sipped her drink, pretending not to notice their constant glances. At her legs. At her breasts. Her hair, a shaggy sun-bleached unbrushed mop. Her skin the color of wet sand. Her lips, a parched and cracked reddish brown. She was skinny almost to an anorexic fault. She gazed out at the sea in a dreamy way, but all the while knowing they all wanted to fuck her. She was in the company of dangerous men. But she had a good grip on it. Men and their dicks are no match for her.
In her hand bag were the essentials. Lipstick, a couple of condoms, a passport, a chrome-plated revolver, and an envelope full of money. She was ready to pull any of these from her purse, whatever the situation required. Balthazaar had thought of everything. Still her pulse was rapid. The adrenaline of knowing this is the real deal.
He sat down next to her.
"A sweet air mixed with salt, eh?" he said, inhaling the sea air. Violet turned to look at his pretentious face.
"Do you have something for me, or not?" she said, in a seductive voice. He placed a hand lightly on her knee and began to slide it up under her dress. She brushed it aside. "I am talking about business here, not pleasure."
"You drive a hard bargain, Miss....?"
"Miss Nobody to you." she said boldly, her hand already dipping into her purse for better or worse.
"Yes, of course, I am a man of my word." he said, fumbling in his pocket. Violet's fingers curled around the gun in her purse as she watched him. He produced a small cloth bag and emptied it into his palm. "Is this what you are looking for, perhaps?" The snarl on his lips as he said it, made her want to kill him on the spot. Instead, she just nodded. She let go of the gun and fumbled for the envelope of cash He poured the stones into her slender hand. She closed her fingers around them. She handed him the envelope. Now, it was just a matter of getting home alive.
WHAT WENT DOWN IN TAMPICO? (to be continued...)
Monday, January 30, 2012
"Evidence of Violet" continues...
(The following episodes follow the one in the post below it where the story first began)
Chapter One continues....
JOSEPHINA
They embraced in the doorway. She was in a long and well-wrinkled white cotton nightgown and she smelled like a woman just waking up. Any smell of Josephina never failed to arouse him. But even as his hands slid down her back and fanned out over her hips she was onto him.
"What is it now?" she asked, nuzzling her sleepy-eyed face beneath his chin. He lost himself in her thick dark hair wishing things could just be simple for awhile. And in his long sigh, he whispered out these words.
"Balthazaar is alive. And maybe Violet too." He tightened his grip around her, expecting her to faint. She didn't. Just some several abrupt sobs making her face wet against his neck and her fingernails digging into his shoulders. And then she pulled away.
The wooden tabletop was embellished with colorful burnt out hardened wax puddles of by-gone candles. They seemed a subtle history of evenings he had spent there with her, drinking wine and whispering. He sat and looked at her. She had her back to him, cracking eggs into a bowl. Whipping them. Pouring them into a black iron skillet. He slid her gown off her ample body, in his mind. Funny how such thoughts can erupt like that.
"How can you say such a thing?" she said, turning to look at him. He pulled the papers from his pocket.
"I got a letter. It is from Balthazaar." And this is where she fainted. By the stove.
She was only out a few seconds. By the time he jumped to grab her there on the floor, she was coming around. He helped her up and to a chair.
"Its true Josephina," he said, kneeling in front of her and trying to heal her pain -filled face somehow with his hands.
"Don't leave me now." she said.
"Read the letter, Josephina. Pack your bags. I will finish the souffle. "
THE DEPARTURE
They were on the road by noon. They would make it up the mountains if they drove through the night. They would spend some time there and rest. Get some food. Fuck. Sleep. Get up in the morning and mark our course out on the map. Move efficiently south through each little town and harbor. It is an art to pull into a town and gather information without arousing suspicion. One cannot go about holding up photos. Have you seen this man? This woman? You are seen as a hunter of people. And there are many in the south who are in hiding. The news of your inquiries will precede you into the next town and the next. You will get nowhere. He and Josephina would travel as tourists. Lovers on a holiday who have stolen away from some impossible reality back north. In essence, just two more people on the lam and hiding. Seen as such, they could perhaps find people here and there who would take them into their confidence. Over tequila perhaps a story slips out. Josephina is adept at this. Loosening the tongues of men so as to find out what she wants to know without asking the question.
THE WAY THINGS WENT DOWN
It was unusual. The way Josephina and Ricardo had hooked up back some time ago. He and Balthazaar had been like brothers since childhood. They were born on the same day of the month of the same year. But Riccardo was seven years was 7 years his elder. And now here they were. Riccardo, with a woman some 10 years older than he, and Balthazaar with her daughter. Or at least he was, until something went wrong and they are lost now from one another.
It was to have been a simple deal. Riccardo had made the arrangements. Balthazaar and Violet would make the exchange. A few precious stones he was middling up out of Africa to a collector whose name Riccardo dare not say aloud. Enough American dollars for all of them to live quite easily for some time. The deal was to go down on a charter boat amidst partying and pleasure fishing. Violet, while young, was as alluring as her mother. And she is a seamstress, as well. It would be relatively easy for her to conceal the stones in the hems of her clothing. And Balthazaar was renowned for his calm collected demeanor. He was at his best when backed against the wall.
So what went wrong? It's all Riccardo thought about as they drove southeast and into the night. Josephina curled up on the back seat and fell asleep. He headed the car up into the mountains. They should at least make La Coma by dawn, if the roads were not too rough. They might spend a day or two there poking around.
Chapter One continues....
JOSEPHINA
They embraced in the doorway. She was in a long and well-wrinkled white cotton nightgown and she smelled like a woman just waking up. Any smell of Josephina never failed to arouse him. But even as his hands slid down her back and fanned out over her hips she was onto him.
"What is it now?" she asked, nuzzling her sleepy-eyed face beneath his chin. He lost himself in her thick dark hair wishing things could just be simple for awhile. And in his long sigh, he whispered out these words.
"Balthazaar is alive. And maybe Violet too." He tightened his grip around her, expecting her to faint. She didn't. Just some several abrupt sobs making her face wet against his neck and her fingernails digging into his shoulders. And then she pulled away.
The wooden tabletop was embellished with colorful burnt out hardened wax puddles of by-gone candles. They seemed a subtle history of evenings he had spent there with her, drinking wine and whispering. He sat and looked at her. She had her back to him, cracking eggs into a bowl. Whipping them. Pouring them into a black iron skillet. He slid her gown off her ample body, in his mind. Funny how such thoughts can erupt like that.
"How can you say such a thing?" she said, turning to look at him. He pulled the papers from his pocket.
"I got a letter. It is from Balthazaar." And this is where she fainted. By the stove.
She was only out a few seconds. By the time he jumped to grab her there on the floor, she was coming around. He helped her up and to a chair.
"Its true Josephina," he said, kneeling in front of her and trying to heal her pain -filled face somehow with his hands.
"Don't leave me now." she said.
"Read the letter, Josephina. Pack your bags. I will finish the souffle. "
THE DEPARTURE
They were on the road by noon. They would make it up the mountains if they drove through the night. They would spend some time there and rest. Get some food. Fuck. Sleep. Get up in the morning and mark our course out on the map. Move efficiently south through each little town and harbor. It is an art to pull into a town and gather information without arousing suspicion. One cannot go about holding up photos. Have you seen this man? This woman? You are seen as a hunter of people. And there are many in the south who are in hiding. The news of your inquiries will precede you into the next town and the next. You will get nowhere. He and Josephina would travel as tourists. Lovers on a holiday who have stolen away from some impossible reality back north. In essence, just two more people on the lam and hiding. Seen as such, they could perhaps find people here and there who would take them into their confidence. Over tequila perhaps a story slips out. Josephina is adept at this. Loosening the tongues of men so as to find out what she wants to know without asking the question.
THE WAY THINGS WENT DOWN
It was unusual. The way Josephina and Ricardo had hooked up back some time ago. He and Balthazaar had been like brothers since childhood. They were born on the same day of the month of the same year. But Riccardo was seven years was 7 years his elder. And now here they were. Riccardo, with a woman some 10 years older than he, and Balthazaar with her daughter. Or at least he was, until something went wrong and they are lost now from one another.
It was to have been a simple deal. Riccardo had made the arrangements. Balthazaar and Violet would make the exchange. A few precious stones he was middling up out of Africa to a collector whose name Riccardo dare not say aloud. Enough American dollars for all of them to live quite easily for some time. The deal was to go down on a charter boat amidst partying and pleasure fishing. Violet, while young, was as alluring as her mother. And she is a seamstress, as well. It would be relatively easy for her to conceal the stones in the hems of her clothing. And Balthazaar was renowned for his calm collected demeanor. He was at his best when backed against the wall.
So what went wrong? It's all Riccardo thought about as they drove southeast and into the night. Josephina curled up on the back seat and fell asleep. He headed the car up into the mountains. They should at least make La Coma by dawn, if the roads were not too rough. They might spend a day or two there poking around.
Monday, December 26, 2011
A glimpse into The Dream Year
The Visitor
There is a car moving slowly east past a car moving slowly west. And people walking hurriedly from the dark parking lot through circles cast down from yellow lights above. Fogged by the cool drizzle of a mid-November night, the street lights offer each solitary figure a dramatic anonymous walk-on as they make their way to the building across the way. A distant fading siren sound is drowned by the louder thrashing whir of a helicopter dropping carefully down onto the rooftop.
In the lobby, the conversations are hushed, yet anxious. People seem huddled in small worried circles. The hallway smells of linoleum wax laid down over an antiseptic wash. The door to the room makes a sharp metallic click each time it opens - crisp, like the cocking of a rifle in the stillness. Flowers on the window sill smell funereal, and the water stained cards beneath the vase spell out best wishes unread. The solitary breath in the air is sweet with medications that overpower even the flowers.
Behind the eyes that can't see out but only in, there is a certain kind of blackness, a blackness blacker than any black a conscious mind might describe. A panorama of nothingness wherein the mind can only whisper to itself. So Billy lies there and blabbers on to ears that cannot hear him. Not even the nurse, standing at his side calibrating the plastic narcotic drip could hear such murmurs at that great distance.
The doctor's report is delivered in a low spoken monotone into the telephone at the nurse's station.
"...is stable...no response to stimuli along any modality...comatose with sporadic autonomic reactions...." He speaks the data into the system one elbow down on the nurse's desk, massaging his forehead with a thumb and forefinger as though to coax out all possible observations just made. He pauses to look down the long hallway as the elevator bell sounds. It was Billy's girlfriend, Sandy. He puts down the phone and turns with a soft smile as she approaches.
Billy Wakes Up To Nothing
"I don't know if this is good or not. I am awake! But, to what? My tongue seems buried in a tar pit. Tar entombs my ears as well, and my sinuses. I have a hazy image of Sandy. Is it her, or just some picture I am holding?
"Sandy?!" Am I dead? I don't think so. There is some kind of steady drumming. There is some humming buzz running through me. It is as though my body is going on without me. Talking to itself. I think I am in some kind of trouble. If I am wondering anything then surely I'm not dead. But then, where are my hands? This is pretty fucking weird. Why am I never hungry? I don't even want a beer. I remember Sandy's fingernails digging into my stomach. But, I can't remember why."
Far away where he cannot see or hear her, Sandy sits close to Billy's bedside and doodles in her sketch book. It had been three months now since it happened.
There is a car moving slowly east past a car moving slowly west. And people walking hurriedly from the dark parking lot through circles cast down from yellow lights above. Fogged by the cool drizzle of a mid-November night, the street lights offer each solitary figure a dramatic anonymous walk-on as they make their way to the building across the way. A distant fading siren sound is drowned by the louder thrashing whir of a helicopter dropping carefully down onto the rooftop.
In the lobby, the conversations are hushed, yet anxious. People seem huddled in small worried circles. The hallway smells of linoleum wax laid down over an antiseptic wash. The door to the room makes a sharp metallic click each time it opens - crisp, like the cocking of a rifle in the stillness. Flowers on the window sill smell funereal, and the water stained cards beneath the vase spell out best wishes unread. The solitary breath in the air is sweet with medications that overpower even the flowers.
Behind the eyes that can't see out but only in, there is a certain kind of blackness, a blackness blacker than any black a conscious mind might describe. A panorama of nothingness wherein the mind can only whisper to itself. So Billy lies there and blabbers on to ears that cannot hear him. Not even the nurse, standing at his side calibrating the plastic narcotic drip could hear such murmurs at that great distance.
The doctor's report is delivered in a low spoken monotone into the telephone at the nurse's station.
"...is stable...no response to stimuli along any modality...comatose with sporadic autonomic reactions...." He speaks the data into the system one elbow down on the nurse's desk, massaging his forehead with a thumb and forefinger as though to coax out all possible observations just made. He pauses to look down the long hallway as the elevator bell sounds. It was Billy's girlfriend, Sandy. He puts down the phone and turns with a soft smile as she approaches.
Billy Wakes Up To Nothing
"I don't know if this is good or not. I am awake! But, to what? My tongue seems buried in a tar pit. Tar entombs my ears as well, and my sinuses. I have a hazy image of Sandy. Is it her, or just some picture I am holding?
"Sandy?!" Am I dead? I don't think so. There is some kind of steady drumming. There is some humming buzz running through me. It is as though my body is going on without me. Talking to itself. I think I am in some kind of trouble. If I am wondering anything then surely I'm not dead. But then, where are my hands? This is pretty fucking weird. Why am I never hungry? I don't even want a beer. I remember Sandy's fingernails digging into my stomach. But, I can't remember why."
Far away where he cannot see or hear her, Sandy sits close to Billy's bedside and doodles in her sketch book. It had been three months now since it happened.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Back To Dawson.....
NELLY'S BIG DAY
When I got back from th' bus station I parkt th' car and walkt over t' Missus Akkerson's house. We sat aroun' th' kitchen table an' I helt Bluebird on my lap as I tol' them about meetin' my ma an' how she come t' killin' my daddy an' went t' jail all these years.
"I never likt Bobby John," Missus Akkerson said. "But when he come throuh town he swept Jolie off her feet. I tolt 'er he weren't good fer nothin', but she jus' said I was jealous. I guess she fount out th' hard way. I don' rightly wish anybody t' git shot in th' head, but I reckon if anybody mighta deservt it, it woulda been Bobby John. I'm sorry t' say such a thing, Daw, bein' he was yer daddy, but I swear he was born bad." I nodded.
"Somehow, it don' seem t' hurt me much, 'cause I believe what Jolene tolt me about 'im. I do wonner what 'is last name was thouh, an' where he hailed from." Nelly's mama said she never knew Bobby John's las' name but there was prob'ly some way t' find out.
I was still talkin' about th' experience when me an' Nelly turnt in that night with Bluebird squirmin' between th' two of us. Nelly was right sweet t' jus' lie there an' lissen, an' run 'er fingers throuh my hair.
Nelly gradiated with honors. Not only was she th' bes' speler, but she was voted mos' likely t' succeed at somethin'. An' they askt her t' say somethin' t' her classmates. There was a hunert and fifteen of 'em that year. Twict as many as when I gradiated. Mos'ly it was on account of all the Round Town kids bein' added in t' th' school. It was kinda strange 'cause I use' t' know ever' kid in th' school, and now they lookt like a lot of strangers.
Nelly stood up in fron' of ever'body, an I could tell she was a bit scart.
"I jus' wanna say this is one of my happies' times in my life. An' I wanna espeshuly thank Missus Shire who kep' me keep agoin' when I jus' wanted t' give up." Ever'body clappt when she said that.
"An' I guess ever'body knows me an' Daw had us a baby along th' way. We didn' ezackly mean fer that t' be th' case, but I wouldn' ever wish t' change the fact at this point. But I wanna say, it weren' easy. It was hard, real hard. So, if'n ye fin' yer self thinkin' you wanna have you a baby too, ye' might wanna think that one over another time or two. Ye' can't hardly git any sleep at night. Ye can't jus' decide ye wanna jus' play aroun' all affernoon. Ever'thing, an' I mean ever'thing changes. An' ye can't wish it away, an' ye can't run away. I love my liddle baby an' wouldn' change a thing, but if yer thinkin' its jus' a barrel of fun, it ain't. I ain't gonna preach at ye. Yer th' same as me. But, I am tellin' ye, ye better think twict. Thank you, an' I'm gonna miss you all."
I was right proud of Nelly that day, an' it made me think a lot about all th' times when I was off t' th' island tryin' t' figure out a life, an' all those times Nelly was there at home lookin' after Bluebird, an' tryin' t' git her homework done. An' ever'thing she said t' all them kids was th' truth. As if that weren't enuf fer one day, I set Bluebird down on th' grass t' hug Nelly, an she pullt 'erself up by my pant leg, an' took off walkin' throuh th' crowd teeterin' all over amidst a world of giant people. Bluebird had a gradiation of 'er own.
GRAVIDY
One thing I did learn about in school is this invisibl' force callt gravidy. Gravidy is this thing that keeps ever'thing down on th' ground instead of flyin' off inta th' air. A coupla years back, th Russians sent a big ball up inta space an' it didn' come back down. They callt it Spudnik, I guess 'cause it lookt like a 'tater. Anyways it jus' stayt up there floatin' aroun' fer a coupla years, but finally th' fingers of gravidy found it, an' pullt it back down.
An' it ocurrt t' me that places like Shrewsbury or any place ye been mos' yer life has a kind of gravidy of its own. An' ever'time I drove off t' th' island, I could somehow feel th' tug of Shrewsbury on me, wantin' t' pull me back. Don' know how many times I went back an' forth, an it seemt ever'time I turnt aroun' an' come back I made real good time 'cause of th' gravidy pullin' me back. Maybe even people got some kinda gravidy of their own. People get stuck on each other 'cause of that. Th' way I'm stuck on Nelly, an' she's stuck on me. An' even though my own mama lef' me all these years, an' even though I don't rightly know ezackly who she is, there seemt some kinda gravidy there when I firs' saw her. I don' know how t' describe it, but I know somehow I felt it.
BLUEBIRD'S BES' PRESENT
Robin Bluebell was about t' turn one year olt, an' me an' Nelly decided we should have that day in Shrewsbury, even thouh we was both feelin' ready t' try t' make th' move t' th' island. An' it even felt more important now on accoun' of Jolene. I think it would be helpful t' her t' know she had a gran'baby in 'er life, so I was hopin' she'd be comin' fer Bluebird's birthday.
Jolene came that day. An' she came wearin' a wig that lookt outa a fashi'n magazene.
It kinda wrappt aroun' 'er neck in a smooth straight line, an' it had sev'rel colers of hair in it. She whispert t' me that she jus' didn' wanna come lookin' like she'd jus' been in jail fer fifteen years. I found it hard t' not keep starin' at 'er. Charlie an' Jolene hugged an' went on about how they knowed each other all these years. Uncle Blaine was bein' right gentlemanly offerin 'er his seat on th' sofa. An, Nelly pullt me over an' whispert that she thouht my mama was purty, an also tolt me that Bluebird musta got her liddle roun' chin from my ma. But best of all, an' mos' memerable, was Robin Bluebell sittin' on Jolene's lap an' they was playin' some han' clappin' game, an' then Jolene sorta sobbed a bit an' said,
"Never in my life....never in my life..." An I knew then an' there that gravidy had it's arms aroun' all of us. Jolene spent th' night with us. We made her a pallet on th' couch. I was happy that she was there that night even thouh she seemt still such a mystery t' me.
THE MORNIN' AFTER
When Bluebird fidgit'd an' kickt me an' Nelly outa bed like she always does in th' mornin', I could smell coffee perkin' an' Jolene was already up an' smokin' a cigarette out on th' front porch. She didn' have her wig on, so her short hair was all spiky an' stickin' out here an' there. She was sittin' on th' swing, barefooted an' wearin' a long white wrinklt cotton slip. She lookt skinny in th' shoulders, almos' bony. She stretcht 'er arms out an' yawned. I pushed th' screen door a bit an' poked my head out.
"G' mornin'!"
"Y' know," she said, "There was so many times sittin' in my cell I would imagine walkin' down this road an' my mama walkin' me t' school." She stood an' came towart me. "Bet th' coffee's ready 'bout now," she said.
We all sat aroun' th' kitchen table a good while. Jolene helt Bluebird on her lap, an' she an' Nelly took to talkin' about th' baby an' how sharp she was fer jus' bein' in the worl' liddle more th'n a year. Finally Jolene handed th' baby t' me.
"I reckon I oughta run down t' mama's. Do ye think she's doin' alright, Dawson?" That was th' firs' time she didn' call me Jeremy. I didn' even think about it at the time, but later lookin' back it seemt it meant somethin' t' me.
"Well, I reckon granny's doin' purty good. She took it purty hard when gran'daddy an' Aunt Arnelle died an' on th' same day. Uncle Blaine an' Charlie look affer her a lot," I replyt. Jolene was lookin' down at th' floor like she was deep in some kinda thouht, but noddin' her head like she was hearin' me.
Blaine drove Jolene t' the bus station that day an me an' Nelly tol' her we wanted her t' come an' see us when we get moved over t' th' island. Nelly seemt t' see some emptiness in me that affernoon an' she hugged me, an whispert,
"Its a lot, ain't it Daw?" I nodded.
ME AN' MY BABY, AN' TH' DEEP BLUE SEA
It took nigh onta two weeks fer me an' Nelly t' sort out stuff, an box stuff up, an' git ready t' move t' th' island. We soon realizt we was gonna have t' make two trips. We'd go t' th boathouse fer about a week an' get organized, then we'd come back an' git th' rest of our stuff. So, when we pullt out of Shrewsbury it weren't too hard sayin' goodbye since we'd be comin' back in a few days. I set up an orange crate on th' seat of th' truck between me an' Nelly fer Bluebird t' sit on an' that workt purty good e'cept Bluebird kept wantin' t' crawl onta her mama's lap an' poke 'er head out th' winder. Mos'ly thouh, we was drivin' throuh th' night, an' Bluebird was sleepin' in Nelly's arms. I realizt I was prob'ly gonna need t' get me a reg'lar car with a back seat purty soon.
IN THE BEGINNING
We pullt onta th' island jus' affer dawn, an'I rememb'r th' firs' thing we did when we got t' th' boathouse was t' jus' crumble onta th' mattress on th' floor and lay there.
"We're here, ain't we, Daw,?" Nelly askt, lookin' over at me. Bluebird was crawlin' aroun' on top of us.
"Uh huh," I said.
"An' ever' thing's gonna be ok, ain't it Daw?"
"Uh huh," I said again. Bluebird crawlt up on her mama an' took her face inta her tiny han's, an' lookt right inta her eyes.
"I'm hungwy, mama!" Nelly laught an' jumpt up. She open'd th' box granny an' Missus Akkerson had fixt fer us with sandwishes an' such. Then we all jus' sat aroun' on th' mattress eatin' bananas an' lookin' around. Somehow it seemt th' whole world was startin' over.
The nex' few days seemt fill'd with haulin' stuff inta th' boathouse, an' movin' stuff aroun'. Nelly hung th' curtains she'd made, we fixt up a liddle corner by a winder t' be Bluebird's corner with her bed, an' her toys, an' we fixt th' kitchen corner up t' Nelly's likin'. Th' place was startin' t' look purty crowded already. Rufus came by one day an' helpt me build a platform about four feet up over Bluebird's corner, an' we tosst me an' Nelly's mattress up there.
Saturday mornin' me an' Rufus went over th' Aunt Chovy. He'd already been scrapin' off loose paint an' blue an' green peels an' chips of it was all about. He had a good part of th' motor broke down too. Bluebird went a walkin' an' crawlin' all aroun' on th' boat an' in no time was the dirtiest chil' I ever saw. She had her firs' bath that affernoon in th' kitchen sink.
Sunday we spent on th' beach. We laught a lot at Bluebird splashin' about in th' surf an' shriekin' as th' waves would come rollin' in like they was about t' git her. Monday mornin' we headed back t' Shrewsbury.
TH' NEVER ENDIN' GOODBYE
When we got back t' Shrewsbury, I foun' Jolene sittin' at granny's table in th' kitchen talkin' to granny. Ever'body stood aroun' huggin' ever'body. Bluebird run aroun' from one grown-up t' another an' wasn' hurtin fer attenchin by a long shot. Uncle Blaine an' Charlie come by fer lunch, an' it seemt somehow like a Sunday affernoon. When we finally headed over t' Uncle Blaine's ol' place fer th' night, it was in the big mess we left it in. We put off any cleanin' and packin' of more stuff 'til th' mornin' an' turnt in.
I laid there holdin' Nell an' tolt her how Uncle Blaine had talkt t' me out in granny's yard about th' idea of turnin' his place over t' his sister, Jolene.
"He an' yer mama has decided t' fix her place up better an' they'd live there, an' he wanted Jolene t' come back t' Shrewsbury an' git her life started over," I said. Nelly thouht it was a good idea an' she said it would prob'ly make my granny happy too.
"An' then," she added, "whenever we came t' visit, Bluebird would have three grannys. Charlie, Jolene, an' granny." I jus' nodded but I didn' have th' words t' say about how happy I was t' think my mama had come home or about th' idea that maybe one day we might acshuly come t' know each other like nothin' ever happent.
Once we got th' last of our things packt inta th' truck, an' Uncle Blaine's place swept out nice an' neat, we walkt over t' granny's t' say goodbye again. It was harder this time, even thouh we promis't we'd come back one week in th' fall. Ever'body seemt happy an' a bit teary eyed at th' same time. It turnt inta a reg'lar parade with ever'body walkin' back with us t' th' truck. Then ever'body was huggin' ever'body agin. Uncle Blaine handed me an envelope an' tolt me t' read it later. Jolene kisst me on th' cheek an' then wipt it off with a smile, an' steppt back as we climbt inta th' truck. I heard granny call as I pullt away,
"Ya'll come back ye hear?" I pickt up speed as we rounded th' bend in the road an' I coul' feel th' gravidy of all my growin' up pullin' at me, an then lettin' go.
TH' TUNNEL OF LOVE
The drive into th' night settled down inta white lines an' stripes, an' bends in th' road, an' ever' now an' then, a car whizzin' by goin' th' other way. I pickt up a radio channel comin' from New Orleans. Nelly seemt sound asleep nex' t' me with Bluebird's head on her lap. Elvis come on th' radio.
"Since my baby lef' me, I foun' a new place t' dwell,
it's down at th' end of lonely street at the..." Nelly sat up straight all of a sudden, an' lookt over at me.
"Daw," she said. "Promise you'll never leave me."
I laught. "I ain't never gonna leave you, darlin'."
"You promise?" she askt.
"Yes. I promise."
"On yer granny's bible?"
"Yes, on my granny's bible, an' on yer granny's bible too."
Nelly lookt out th' winder. "I never knew my granny. But I think she was an atheist." She lookt down at Bluebird, an' run her fingers throuh Bluebird's hair. "I love you, Daw," she said, leanin' her head agins' th' pillow by th' door. She closed her eyes an' then started cryin'.
"I ain't never gonna leave ye' Nelly," I said quietly.
"I know," she sobbed, "I jus' miss my mama."
I thouht about my mother. It was a lot of mixed up thouhts. How me an' Axel got lef' there at th' end of lonely street. How she come back. How here I was now leavin' her. How it all was sorta grabbin' me an' shakin' me aroun'.
"I miss my mama too," I said t' Nelly, but I think she was asleep by then.
When I got back from th' bus station I parkt th' car and walkt over t' Missus Akkerson's house. We sat aroun' th' kitchen table an' I helt Bluebird on my lap as I tol' them about meetin' my ma an' how she come t' killin' my daddy an' went t' jail all these years.
"I never likt Bobby John," Missus Akkerson said. "But when he come throuh town he swept Jolie off her feet. I tolt 'er he weren't good fer nothin', but she jus' said I was jealous. I guess she fount out th' hard way. I don' rightly wish anybody t' git shot in th' head, but I reckon if anybody mighta deservt it, it woulda been Bobby John. I'm sorry t' say such a thing, Daw, bein' he was yer daddy, but I swear he was born bad." I nodded.
"Somehow, it don' seem t' hurt me much, 'cause I believe what Jolene tolt me about 'im. I do wonner what 'is last name was thouh, an' where he hailed from." Nelly's mama said she never knew Bobby John's las' name but there was prob'ly some way t' find out.
I was still talkin' about th' experience when me an' Nelly turnt in that night with Bluebird squirmin' between th' two of us. Nelly was right sweet t' jus' lie there an' lissen, an' run 'er fingers throuh my hair.
Nelly gradiated with honors. Not only was she th' bes' speler, but she was voted mos' likely t' succeed at somethin'. An' they askt her t' say somethin' t' her classmates. There was a hunert and fifteen of 'em that year. Twict as many as when I gradiated. Mos'ly it was on account of all the Round Town kids bein' added in t' th' school. It was kinda strange 'cause I use' t' know ever' kid in th' school, and now they lookt like a lot of strangers.
Nelly stood up in fron' of ever'body, an I could tell she was a bit scart.
"I jus' wanna say this is one of my happies' times in my life. An' I wanna espeshuly thank Missus Shire who kep' me keep agoin' when I jus' wanted t' give up." Ever'body clappt when she said that.
"An' I guess ever'body knows me an' Daw had us a baby along th' way. We didn' ezackly mean fer that t' be th' case, but I wouldn' ever wish t' change the fact at this point. But I wanna say, it weren' easy. It was hard, real hard. So, if'n ye fin' yer self thinkin' you wanna have you a baby too, ye' might wanna think that one over another time or two. Ye' can't hardly git any sleep at night. Ye can't jus' decide ye wanna jus' play aroun' all affernoon. Ever'thing, an' I mean ever'thing changes. An' ye can't wish it away, an' ye can't run away. I love my liddle baby an' wouldn' change a thing, but if yer thinkin' its jus' a barrel of fun, it ain't. I ain't gonna preach at ye. Yer th' same as me. But, I am tellin' ye, ye better think twict. Thank you, an' I'm gonna miss you all."
I was right proud of Nelly that day, an' it made me think a lot about all th' times when I was off t' th' island tryin' t' figure out a life, an' all those times Nelly was there at home lookin' after Bluebird, an' tryin' t' git her homework done. An' ever'thing she said t' all them kids was th' truth. As if that weren't enuf fer one day, I set Bluebird down on th' grass t' hug Nelly, an she pullt 'erself up by my pant leg, an' took off walkin' throuh th' crowd teeterin' all over amidst a world of giant people. Bluebird had a gradiation of 'er own.
GRAVIDY
One thing I did learn about in school is this invisibl' force callt gravidy. Gravidy is this thing that keeps ever'thing down on th' ground instead of flyin' off inta th' air. A coupla years back, th Russians sent a big ball up inta space an' it didn' come back down. They callt it Spudnik, I guess 'cause it lookt like a 'tater. Anyways it jus' stayt up there floatin' aroun' fer a coupla years, but finally th' fingers of gravidy found it, an' pullt it back down.
An' it ocurrt t' me that places like Shrewsbury or any place ye been mos' yer life has a kind of gravidy of its own. An' ever'time I drove off t' th' island, I could somehow feel th' tug of Shrewsbury on me, wantin' t' pull me back. Don' know how many times I went back an' forth, an it seemt ever'time I turnt aroun' an' come back I made real good time 'cause of th' gravidy pullin' me back. Maybe even people got some kinda gravidy of their own. People get stuck on each other 'cause of that. Th' way I'm stuck on Nelly, an' she's stuck on me. An' even though my own mama lef' me all these years, an' even though I don't rightly know ezackly who she is, there seemt some kinda gravidy there when I firs' saw her. I don' know how t' describe it, but I know somehow I felt it.
BLUEBIRD'S BES' PRESENT
Robin Bluebell was about t' turn one year olt, an' me an' Nelly decided we should have that day in Shrewsbury, even thouh we was both feelin' ready t' try t' make th' move t' th' island. An' it even felt more important now on accoun' of Jolene. I think it would be helpful t' her t' know she had a gran'baby in 'er life, so I was hopin' she'd be comin' fer Bluebird's birthday.
Jolene came that day. An' she came wearin' a wig that lookt outa a fashi'n magazene.
It kinda wrappt aroun' 'er neck in a smooth straight line, an' it had sev'rel colers of hair in it. She whispert t' me that she jus' didn' wanna come lookin' like she'd jus' been in jail fer fifteen years. I found it hard t' not keep starin' at 'er. Charlie an' Jolene hugged an' went on about how they knowed each other all these years. Uncle Blaine was bein' right gentlemanly offerin 'er his seat on th' sofa. An, Nelly pullt me over an' whispert that she thouht my mama was purty, an also tolt me that Bluebird musta got her liddle roun' chin from my ma. But best of all, an' mos' memerable, was Robin Bluebell sittin' on Jolene's lap an' they was playin' some han' clappin' game, an' then Jolene sorta sobbed a bit an' said,
"Never in my life....never in my life..." An I knew then an' there that gravidy had it's arms aroun' all of us. Jolene spent th' night with us. We made her a pallet on th' couch. I was happy that she was there that night even thouh she seemt still such a mystery t' me.
THE MORNIN' AFTER
When Bluebird fidgit'd an' kickt me an' Nelly outa bed like she always does in th' mornin', I could smell coffee perkin' an' Jolene was already up an' smokin' a cigarette out on th' front porch. She didn' have her wig on, so her short hair was all spiky an' stickin' out here an' there. She was sittin' on th' swing, barefooted an' wearin' a long white wrinklt cotton slip. She lookt skinny in th' shoulders, almos' bony. She stretcht 'er arms out an' yawned. I pushed th' screen door a bit an' poked my head out.
"G' mornin'!"
"Y' know," she said, "There was so many times sittin' in my cell I would imagine walkin' down this road an' my mama walkin' me t' school." She stood an' came towart me. "Bet th' coffee's ready 'bout now," she said.
We all sat aroun' th' kitchen table a good while. Jolene helt Bluebird on her lap, an' she an' Nelly took to talkin' about th' baby an' how sharp she was fer jus' bein' in the worl' liddle more th'n a year. Finally Jolene handed th' baby t' me.
"I reckon I oughta run down t' mama's. Do ye think she's doin' alright, Dawson?" That was th' firs' time she didn' call me Jeremy. I didn' even think about it at the time, but later lookin' back it seemt it meant somethin' t' me.
"Well, I reckon granny's doin' purty good. She took it purty hard when gran'daddy an' Aunt Arnelle died an' on th' same day. Uncle Blaine an' Charlie look affer her a lot," I replyt. Jolene was lookin' down at th' floor like she was deep in some kinda thouht, but noddin' her head like she was hearin' me.
Blaine drove Jolene t' the bus station that day an me an' Nelly tol' her we wanted her t' come an' see us when we get moved over t' th' island. Nelly seemt t' see some emptiness in me that affernoon an' she hugged me, an whispert,
"Its a lot, ain't it Daw?" I nodded.
ME AN' MY BABY, AN' TH' DEEP BLUE SEA
It took nigh onta two weeks fer me an' Nelly t' sort out stuff, an box stuff up, an' git ready t' move t' th' island. We soon realizt we was gonna have t' make two trips. We'd go t' th boathouse fer about a week an' get organized, then we'd come back an' git th' rest of our stuff. So, when we pullt out of Shrewsbury it weren't too hard sayin' goodbye since we'd be comin' back in a few days. I set up an orange crate on th' seat of th' truck between me an' Nelly fer Bluebird t' sit on an' that workt purty good e'cept Bluebird kept wantin' t' crawl onta her mama's lap an' poke 'er head out th' winder. Mos'ly thouh, we was drivin' throuh th' night, an' Bluebird was sleepin' in Nelly's arms. I realizt I was prob'ly gonna need t' get me a reg'lar car with a back seat purty soon.
IN THE BEGINNING
We pullt onta th' island jus' affer dawn, an'I rememb'r th' firs' thing we did when we got t' th' boathouse was t' jus' crumble onta th' mattress on th' floor and lay there.
"We're here, ain't we, Daw,?" Nelly askt, lookin' over at me. Bluebird was crawlin' aroun' on top of us.
"Uh huh," I said.
"An' ever' thing's gonna be ok, ain't it Daw?"
"Uh huh," I said again. Bluebird crawlt up on her mama an' took her face inta her tiny han's, an' lookt right inta her eyes.
"I'm hungwy, mama!" Nelly laught an' jumpt up. She open'd th' box granny an' Missus Akkerson had fixt fer us with sandwishes an' such. Then we all jus' sat aroun' on th' mattress eatin' bananas an' lookin' around. Somehow it seemt th' whole world was startin' over.
The nex' few days seemt fill'd with haulin' stuff inta th' boathouse, an' movin' stuff aroun'. Nelly hung th' curtains she'd made, we fixt up a liddle corner by a winder t' be Bluebird's corner with her bed, an' her toys, an' we fixt th' kitchen corner up t' Nelly's likin'. Th' place was startin' t' look purty crowded already. Rufus came by one day an' helpt me build a platform about four feet up over Bluebird's corner, an' we tosst me an' Nelly's mattress up there.
Saturday mornin' me an' Rufus went over th' Aunt Chovy. He'd already been scrapin' off loose paint an' blue an' green peels an' chips of it was all about. He had a good part of th' motor broke down too. Bluebird went a walkin' an' crawlin' all aroun' on th' boat an' in no time was the dirtiest chil' I ever saw. She had her firs' bath that affernoon in th' kitchen sink.
Sunday we spent on th' beach. We laught a lot at Bluebird splashin' about in th' surf an' shriekin' as th' waves would come rollin' in like they was about t' git her. Monday mornin' we headed back t' Shrewsbury.
TH' NEVER ENDIN' GOODBYE
When we got back t' Shrewsbury, I foun' Jolene sittin' at granny's table in th' kitchen talkin' to granny. Ever'body stood aroun' huggin' ever'body. Bluebird run aroun' from one grown-up t' another an' wasn' hurtin fer attenchin by a long shot. Uncle Blaine an' Charlie come by fer lunch, an' it seemt somehow like a Sunday affernoon. When we finally headed over t' Uncle Blaine's ol' place fer th' night, it was in the big mess we left it in. We put off any cleanin' and packin' of more stuff 'til th' mornin' an' turnt in.
I laid there holdin' Nell an' tolt her how Uncle Blaine had talkt t' me out in granny's yard about th' idea of turnin' his place over t' his sister, Jolene.
"He an' yer mama has decided t' fix her place up better an' they'd live there, an' he wanted Jolene t' come back t' Shrewsbury an' git her life started over," I said. Nelly thouht it was a good idea an' she said it would prob'ly make my granny happy too.
"An' then," she added, "whenever we came t' visit, Bluebird would have three grannys. Charlie, Jolene, an' granny." I jus' nodded but I didn' have th' words t' say about how happy I was t' think my mama had come home or about th' idea that maybe one day we might acshuly come t' know each other like nothin' ever happent.
Once we got th' last of our things packt inta th' truck, an' Uncle Blaine's place swept out nice an' neat, we walkt over t' granny's t' say goodbye again. It was harder this time, even thouh we promis't we'd come back one week in th' fall. Ever'body seemt happy an' a bit teary eyed at th' same time. It turnt inta a reg'lar parade with ever'body walkin' back with us t' th' truck. Then ever'body was huggin' ever'body agin. Uncle Blaine handed me an envelope an' tolt me t' read it later. Jolene kisst me on th' cheek an' then wipt it off with a smile, an' steppt back as we climbt inta th' truck. I heard granny call as I pullt away,
"Ya'll come back ye hear?" I pickt up speed as we rounded th' bend in the road an' I coul' feel th' gravidy of all my growin' up pullin' at me, an then lettin' go.
TH' TUNNEL OF LOVE
The drive into th' night settled down inta white lines an' stripes, an' bends in th' road, an' ever' now an' then, a car whizzin' by goin' th' other way. I pickt up a radio channel comin' from New Orleans. Nelly seemt sound asleep nex' t' me with Bluebird's head on her lap. Elvis come on th' radio.
"Since my baby lef' me, I foun' a new place t' dwell,
it's down at th' end of lonely street at the..." Nelly sat up straight all of a sudden, an' lookt over at me.
"Daw," she said. "Promise you'll never leave me."
I laught. "I ain't never gonna leave you, darlin'."
"You promise?" she askt.
"Yes. I promise."
"On yer granny's bible?"
"Yes, on my granny's bible, an' on yer granny's bible too."
Nelly lookt out th' winder. "I never knew my granny. But I think she was an atheist." She lookt down at Bluebird, an' run her fingers throuh Bluebird's hair. "I love you, Daw," she said, leanin' her head agins' th' pillow by th' door. She closed her eyes an' then started cryin'.
"I ain't never gonna leave ye' Nelly," I said quietly.
"I know," she sobbed, "I jus' miss my mama."
I thouht about my mother. It was a lot of mixed up thouhts. How me an' Axel got lef' there at th' end of lonely street. How she come back. How here I was now leavin' her. How it all was sorta grabbin' me an' shakin' me aroun'.
"I miss my mama too," I said t' Nelly, but I think she was asleep by then.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
.....DAWSON, PART III
ROBIN BLUEBELL SITTIN' BY TH' WISHIN' WELL
Well, I'd be lyin' if I said th' rest of th' summer was a piece o' cake after Robin Bluebell came inta th' world. She was a joy beyon' compare, that's fer sure. An' it was amazin' to hold 'er on my lap, an look at 'er, an' t' think that if me an' Nelly hadn' been so in love, there wouldn' be no Robin Bluebell in th' world.
It was tirin' nevertheless. A liddle baby needs a lot of payin' attenchun to. I sometimes wondert what it was I used t' do with all my time afore Robin Bluebell come along. It was a nice thing t' be stayin' at Uncle Blaine's place. It was close t' granny's, an' close t' Missus Akkerson's house too. An' jus' about ever' day one of our kin was droppin' in. An' if granny an' Missus Akkerson came over t' gether, they could sit in th' front room playin' 'pass th' baby' all affernoon! Granny likt t' hold Robin Bluebell on her lap an' sing songs. She made one up that sorta went,
"Robin Bluebell sittin' by th' wishin' well,
Won't ye come an' sit a spell with me...."
Missus Akkerson likt t' play on th' floor with Robin Bluebell. She'd put Robin on her tummy an' say,
"Come here my yeller-eyed girl! Come to maw-maw!" O' course, Robin Bluebell hadn' yet got th' hang of crawlin', so her liddle arms an' legs would be wavin' all aroun' like she was swimmin'.
LONESOME HIGHWAY
It had been a month or more since I made th' run to Ossabaw. Nelly said she an' Robin Bluebell could go stay at her mama's if'n I wanted to try. I sorta felt mixt up about th' whole thing. I was itchin' t' work on th' boathouse, an spen' some time on th' water with Rufus, but at th' same time I was wishin' I could be with Nelly an' Robin Bluebell. O' course I had always felt that way leavin' Nelly when I went out on runs, but she was olt enough t' unnerstan' what I was tryin' t' do. But liddle Robin Bluebell won' have no idea where I diasppeart to. An' I was even sorta scart she might not remember me when I come back.
So, it was a bit differ'nt this time pullin' outa Shrewsbury. More lonesome. I had loaded all the plumbin' pipe an' fixtures I'd been savin' inta th' back o' th' truck. So, I jus' drove on inta th' night thinkin' about th' nature of plumbin' as it applyt t' th' boathouse. Then I sorta daydreamt I was bobbin' aroun' on th' sea in th' Aunt Chovy, an' Nelly an' Robin Bluebell was on th' shore wavin' at me. Then I thought about how I need t' git a coupla cigars fer when I fin' Rufus an' tell 'im I'm a daddy. Then I took t' hummin' Granny's song.
"Robin Bluebell sittin' by th' wishin' well,
"Won't ye come an' sit a spell with me...."
Then I took t' wonderin' about my mama again. Nothin' new to think about in that regard. Jus' the same ol' questions that come t' mind now an' then. Who was she? Is she still even in this ol' world? Why didn' she never come back? It seemt my mind, like my truck, was in high gear the whole night drivin' along. Takin' bends an' bumps along th' way, barrelin' inta th' future an' hopin' fer th' best.
Close t' bein' there, I drove th' last lick of highway jus' as dawn was breakin' an' t' either side of me was endless Savannah grass swayin', an' a low hangin' fog seemt t' have wispy fingers danglin' down onta those tall blades of pale yeller grass. It was very dreamy an' I felt like I'd been dreamin' all night long.
Jus' off th' wharf where the ferry pulls in, there was a diner lit up, an' I could see a coupla fellers in there. My stomach was actin' purty hungry, so I pullt th' truck up t' it. Five or six cars was already creepin' onta th' ferry t' make the return run. Folks that workt in Savannah, I suppose. The air was misty an' give me a chill, but it felt good t' breathe it. Sorta like that sailin' s'lution Curly was talkin' about. Th' diner was nice an' warm inside, an' there was th' smell of bacon fryin.
When I climbt back inta th' truck with a full belly, an' a brain full of coffee, the sun was up above th' water an' the sea had turnt t' molten silver. I drove on out t' th' boathouse an' unloaded my plumbin' pipes. There was a bunch o' sticks in th' ground out back, an' string runnin' from one t' th' other. I weren't sure what t' make of that. Then I saw the pink paper taped t' th' door. It was a permit fer a septic system an' access t' th' water main. Rufus had done give me a leg up. I went in, an' said hi t' th' Aunt Chovy then went upstairs an' set up th' baby bed I'd bought awhile back. It made me smile t' look at it.
GITTIN' MY SEA LEGS BACK
I foun' a coupla cigars at th' newstand down by th' wharf. One of th' newspapers there, Th' Savannah Sentinel, said Buddy Holly was dead. Big John what run th' stand tol' me it was a plane crash up north somewheres. I remembert on th' radio as I was drivin' through th' night hearin' "Peggy Sue", an' they was sayin' somethin about Buddy Holly, but th' static was so bad I couldn' make it out. I wonnert if Nelly had heard about it yet. We both likt that song.
I spotted Rufus down along side his boat talkin' t' a coupla other fellas. I wen' back t' the newstand an' got a coupla more cigars. Rufus saw me comin' an' afore I even got to 'im, I shouted,
"I'm a daddy!" They all took t' slappin' me on th' back an' shakin' my hand, an' I passed out my cigars. Rufus tuckt his inta his coat pocket.
"We'll jus' save this fer this affernnoon, 'cause we need t' have us a celebration down at Gypsy's place." Th' other fellas agreed, an' I made a note in my head t' not git so drunk as last time.
We idled outa th' harbor aboard th' Pelikin's Folly, an' I tol' Rufus about how me an' Nelly went an' got marriet, an' then had us a baby a week later. Rufus laught.
"Yer a salty dawg, that's what you are."
In a way, goin' out t' sea agin with Rufus was like some kinda shot in th' arm. Me an' th' Cap'n fell inta a rhythem droppin' th' nets, an' circlin' around on th' water. He hollert at me, as we began reelin' in a nice size ketch.
"It's good t' have ye back, mate!"
We turnt our ketch over t' th' Cap'n's shore hands, an' headed down t' Gypsy's. Rufus an' I clinkt our beers, an' in awhile them other fellas showt up. They'd been trawlin' out beyon' Danger point in their boat, th' 'Ham An' Aigs'. They said they got a big mess o' tuna. Soon there was a cloud of cigar smoke hangin' over our table an th' boys was ribbin' me about my new bride.
"Come on, Daw. We want th' juicy details." I jus' laught an' shook my head. Rufus said,
"I'll tell ye boys, I done seen her. She's a gol-durn mermaid, that's what she is. She's got eyes made outa gold, an' hair as black as a moonless night, ain't that right, mate?" I nodded an' shrugged, tryin' t' low-key th' Cap'n's drunken ackerlaids. I jus' ain't one t' brag.
Them boys got me good an' drunk that night despite my bes' intenchins. In fact, I jus' left my truck where it was, an' walkt a crooked line on over t' the Three Liddle Pigs motel. I left out fer Shrewsbury mid-mornin' th' nex' day. Aside from a splittin' headache, an' a churnin' stomach, I was feelin' purty good. I was headin' home.
On th' radio I heard more details about Buddy Holly. Sev'rel others died too, in some snow field up in Indiana. It was a bit scary thinkin' about how people kin jus' be dead all of a sudden. I turnt my mind t' thinkin' about Nelly an' Robin Bluebell. It seemt t' me life requirt a certain recklessness, but a certain price can come with it. From there on out, I jus' kept my mind on th' road.
TH' LONG RUNNIN' BLUR
When I finally got th' fish an' shrimp unloaded over in Roun'town, it was dark again. When I pullt up t' Uncle Blaine's place there stood Nelly an' Robin Bluebell standin' 'neath th' porch light. I was so happy I was laughin' as I took our liddle baby outa Nelly's arms. She lookt right cute with dryed milk in th' corners of her liddle mouth. We sat in th' front room fer awhile, an' I helt th' baby an tol' Nelly about my trip t' th' island, an' how Rufus done got th' septic plan all figgered out. Nelly took t' brushin' the tangles outa her hair, an' she lookt a bit tired. We slept that night with Robin Bluebell between us. I kept wakin' up fer fear I'd roll aroun' an squish th' liddle squirt.
Lookin' back now, that whole firs' year bein' marriet t' Nelly, an' bein' a daddy, seems like one long runnin' blur. Nelly got her cute liddle figger back an' was gittin' ready t' go back t' school an' finish up. I was makin' runs t' th' island ever' other week. With th' help of one of th' Cap'n's friends, we got th' boathouse plumb'd. His friend, namt Blackjack had a backhoe an' dug out th' hole fer th' tank. I was surprist t' find out they was makin' a drop-in tank now made of plastic. No more haulin' rocks an' mixin' up concrete. Ye just droppt th' tank in th' hole an' took t' runnin' pipe. Seemt like more an' more stuff was bein' made of plastic. Even milk bottles was bein' made of plastic. An' Robin Bluebell had a plastic baby bottle that seemt easier fer her to hold than them ol' heavy glass ones.
Somewhere along th' line, me an' Nelly both notict somethin' peculiar about Uncle Blaine. He was goin' over t' Nelly's mama's house quite often. He was always makin' some excuse to go over there. Missus Akkerson an' Blaine acted like it was jus' normal, but me an' Nelly had an idea there was somethin' goin' on between them two. It reminded me of how I used t' make up reasons t' go over to Missus Akkerson's so as t' see Nelly again. Nelly said she was gonna talk t' her mama an' find out what was goin' on, an' I tol' her I would try t' pry somethin' outa Uncle Blaine. T' make a long story short, when Thanksgivin' came aroun', neither me nor Nelly was surprist when Uncle Blaine an' 'Charlie' announct they was gettin' marriet. T' make this story even shorter, granny marriet them off on Christmas day in front of th' Christmas tree. By then, liddle Robin Bluebell was crawlin' all about on th' floor, an' she took t' likin' suckin' on th' pink nose of a stufft bunny Santa brung her. She was also babblin' an' warblin' a lot, an' I took t' callin' her 'Bluebird'.
"Blue bird sittin' by th' wishin' well,
Won't ye come an' sing a song t' me....."
By th' time spring rollt aroun', Nelly was close t' gradiatin'. Missus Shire let Nelly nurse Bluebird in her office onct or twice a day. Me or Nelly's mama one, would carry Bluebird over there, an' we usually brouht Nelly a snack too. As it turnt out, Nelly was excust from classes a month early on account of she had done met all th' requirements. So, she was home then until th' big gradiatin' day ceremony. I decided it was time t' make another quick run t' th' island.
MY NEAR DEATH EXPERIANCE
Me an' Cap'n Rufus had gone out beyon' Danger Point that day 'cause of all th' talk of how th' tuna was runnin'. We got us a purty big haul on th' firs' drop. But, th' sea was gettin' choppy so we turnt th' Folly about. The nex' things that began t' happen, happent so fast it's hard t' describe. Bes' I can recall, we suddenly took a rogue wave over th' tail on the starboard side. It come plum' all th' way over us knockin' me against the port side rail, an' spinnin' th' boat a full ninety d'grees jus' in time t' take another wave crashin' down on th' bow of the Folly. It was like Sugar Joe's one-two punch. I grabbt a line an' tied myself off an' turnt t' holler at Rufus. About that moment, here come another wave crashin' down atop th' cabin. I could see the Cap'n hangin' on t' th' wheel with one han, an' reaching fer a rope with th' other. I saw his knees buckle an' then he was gone. One more wave hit, an' I heard the sound of boards breakin' like bones. We had been tosst against a rocky outcroppin' of Danger Point. I went hand over hand along th' rail lookin fer some sign of Rufus in th' swirlin' water that was breakin' on th' rocks. I finally saw him bobbin' about clingin' to a coupla planks that broke off th' Pelikin. The boat was tilted off t' one side on the rocks, an' th' motor had quit upon th' firs' hit. I crawlt inta the cabin lookin' fer th' life preserver, an' grabbt ahold of the lever fer th' trawlin' arm, an' it was workin'. I droppt th' arm down inta th' water as fas' as I could an' I could see Rufus grabbin' fer the nettin' that was fallin' down all arount 'im. I pusht up on th' lever, but th' arm wouldn' raise. Meanwhile th' crashin' waves was jerkin' th' boat all aroun' on th' rock makin' grindin', splinterin soun's. The Cap'n held onta th' nets an' I tosst him a line. It took me sev'rel trys but I eventu'ly got it t' him. He tied hisself off an began t' try t' climb th' net while I was pullin' as hard as I could. I finally got where I could reach down an grab holt of th' Cap'n's coat sleeve. I could see then he was bleedin' down one side of his head. He manag'd t' hike one foot up over th' rail, an' then I pullt him on over an' down t' th' deck. He took t' coughin' an' spittin', an then said in a raspy watery voice,
"I 'bout swallered th' anchor that time..." After wrappin' his head with some gauze from th' first aid kit, an gittin' him some fresh water, we decided we best try t' climb up on th' point afore th' Folly come apart. We made it t' a shelf about twelve or so feet up, an' there we sat watchin' th' waves feedin' on th' Folly an' carryin' it off a board at a time. My mind was racin' with th' realazashin that me an' th' cap'n had jus' escaped th' fate that had befallen so many afore us. It was an hour or more afore a team of Coast Guard fellas come aclimbin' over th' rock above us an' tosst us a rope an' sling.
Well, I'd be lyin' if I said th' rest of th' summer was a piece o' cake after Robin Bluebell came inta th' world. She was a joy beyon' compare, that's fer sure. An' it was amazin' to hold 'er on my lap, an look at 'er, an' t' think that if me an' Nelly hadn' been so in love, there wouldn' be no Robin Bluebell in th' world.
It was tirin' nevertheless. A liddle baby needs a lot of payin' attenchun to. I sometimes wondert what it was I used t' do with all my time afore Robin Bluebell come along. It was a nice thing t' be stayin' at Uncle Blaine's place. It was close t' granny's, an' close t' Missus Akkerson's house too. An' jus' about ever' day one of our kin was droppin' in. An' if granny an' Missus Akkerson came over t' gether, they could sit in th' front room playin' 'pass th' baby' all affernoon! Granny likt t' hold Robin Bluebell on her lap an' sing songs. She made one up that sorta went,
"Robin Bluebell sittin' by th' wishin' well,
Won't ye come an' sit a spell with me...."
Missus Akkerson likt t' play on th' floor with Robin Bluebell. She'd put Robin on her tummy an' say,
"Come here my yeller-eyed girl! Come to maw-maw!" O' course, Robin Bluebell hadn' yet got th' hang of crawlin', so her liddle arms an' legs would be wavin' all aroun' like she was swimmin'.
LONESOME HIGHWAY
It had been a month or more since I made th' run to Ossabaw. Nelly said she an' Robin Bluebell could go stay at her mama's if'n I wanted to try. I sorta felt mixt up about th' whole thing. I was itchin' t' work on th' boathouse, an spen' some time on th' water with Rufus, but at th' same time I was wishin' I could be with Nelly an' Robin Bluebell. O' course I had always felt that way leavin' Nelly when I went out on runs, but she was olt enough t' unnerstan' what I was tryin' t' do. But liddle Robin Bluebell won' have no idea where I diasppeart to. An' I was even sorta scart she might not remember me when I come back.
So, it was a bit differ'nt this time pullin' outa Shrewsbury. More lonesome. I had loaded all the plumbin' pipe an' fixtures I'd been savin' inta th' back o' th' truck. So, I jus' drove on inta th' night thinkin' about th' nature of plumbin' as it applyt t' th' boathouse. Then I sorta daydreamt I was bobbin' aroun' on th' sea in th' Aunt Chovy, an' Nelly an' Robin Bluebell was on th' shore wavin' at me. Then I thought about how I need t' git a coupla cigars fer when I fin' Rufus an' tell 'im I'm a daddy. Then I took t' hummin' Granny's song.
"Robin Bluebell sittin' by th' wishin' well,
"Won't ye come an' sit a spell with me...."
Then I took t' wonderin' about my mama again. Nothin' new to think about in that regard. Jus' the same ol' questions that come t' mind now an' then. Who was she? Is she still even in this ol' world? Why didn' she never come back? It seemt my mind, like my truck, was in high gear the whole night drivin' along. Takin' bends an' bumps along th' way, barrelin' inta th' future an' hopin' fer th' best.
Close t' bein' there, I drove th' last lick of highway jus' as dawn was breakin' an' t' either side of me was endless Savannah grass swayin', an' a low hangin' fog seemt t' have wispy fingers danglin' down onta those tall blades of pale yeller grass. It was very dreamy an' I felt like I'd been dreamin' all night long.
Jus' off th' wharf where the ferry pulls in, there was a diner lit up, an' I could see a coupla fellers in there. My stomach was actin' purty hungry, so I pullt th' truck up t' it. Five or six cars was already creepin' onta th' ferry t' make the return run. Folks that workt in Savannah, I suppose. The air was misty an' give me a chill, but it felt good t' breathe it. Sorta like that sailin' s'lution Curly was talkin' about. Th' diner was nice an' warm inside, an' there was th' smell of bacon fryin.
When I climbt back inta th' truck with a full belly, an' a brain full of coffee, the sun was up above th' water an' the sea had turnt t' molten silver. I drove on out t' th' boathouse an' unloaded my plumbin' pipes. There was a bunch o' sticks in th' ground out back, an' string runnin' from one t' th' other. I weren't sure what t' make of that. Then I saw the pink paper taped t' th' door. It was a permit fer a septic system an' access t' th' water main. Rufus had done give me a leg up. I went in, an' said hi t' th' Aunt Chovy then went upstairs an' set up th' baby bed I'd bought awhile back. It made me smile t' look at it.
GITTIN' MY SEA LEGS BACK
I foun' a coupla cigars at th' newstand down by th' wharf. One of th' newspapers there, Th' Savannah Sentinel, said Buddy Holly was dead. Big John what run th' stand tol' me it was a plane crash up north somewheres. I remembert on th' radio as I was drivin' through th' night hearin' "Peggy Sue", an' they was sayin' somethin about Buddy Holly, but th' static was so bad I couldn' make it out. I wonnert if Nelly had heard about it yet. We both likt that song.
I spotted Rufus down along side his boat talkin' t' a coupla other fellas. I wen' back t' the newstand an' got a coupla more cigars. Rufus saw me comin' an' afore I even got to 'im, I shouted,
"I'm a daddy!" They all took t' slappin' me on th' back an' shakin' my hand, an' I passed out my cigars. Rufus tuckt his inta his coat pocket.
"We'll jus' save this fer this affernnoon, 'cause we need t' have us a celebration down at Gypsy's place." Th' other fellas agreed, an' I made a note in my head t' not git so drunk as last time.
We idled outa th' harbor aboard th' Pelikin's Folly, an' I tol' Rufus about how me an' Nelly went an' got marriet, an' then had us a baby a week later. Rufus laught.
"Yer a salty dawg, that's what you are."
In a way, goin' out t' sea agin with Rufus was like some kinda shot in th' arm. Me an' th' Cap'n fell inta a rhythem droppin' th' nets, an' circlin' around on th' water. He hollert at me, as we began reelin' in a nice size ketch.
"It's good t' have ye back, mate!"
We turnt our ketch over t' th' Cap'n's shore hands, an' headed down t' Gypsy's. Rufus an' I clinkt our beers, an' in awhile them other fellas showt up. They'd been trawlin' out beyon' Danger point in their boat, th' 'Ham An' Aigs'. They said they got a big mess o' tuna. Soon there was a cloud of cigar smoke hangin' over our table an th' boys was ribbin' me about my new bride.
"Come on, Daw. We want th' juicy details." I jus' laught an' shook my head. Rufus said,
"I'll tell ye boys, I done seen her. She's a gol-durn mermaid, that's what she is. She's got eyes made outa gold, an' hair as black as a moonless night, ain't that right, mate?" I nodded an' shrugged, tryin' t' low-key th' Cap'n's drunken ackerlaids. I jus' ain't one t' brag.
Them boys got me good an' drunk that night despite my bes' intenchins. In fact, I jus' left my truck where it was, an' walkt a crooked line on over t' the Three Liddle Pigs motel. I left out fer Shrewsbury mid-mornin' th' nex' day. Aside from a splittin' headache, an' a churnin' stomach, I was feelin' purty good. I was headin' home.
On th' radio I heard more details about Buddy Holly. Sev'rel others died too, in some snow field up in Indiana. It was a bit scary thinkin' about how people kin jus' be dead all of a sudden. I turnt my mind t' thinkin' about Nelly an' Robin Bluebell. It seemt t' me life requirt a certain recklessness, but a certain price can come with it. From there on out, I jus' kept my mind on th' road.
TH' LONG RUNNIN' BLUR
When I finally got th' fish an' shrimp unloaded over in Roun'town, it was dark again. When I pullt up t' Uncle Blaine's place there stood Nelly an' Robin Bluebell standin' 'neath th' porch light. I was so happy I was laughin' as I took our liddle baby outa Nelly's arms. She lookt right cute with dryed milk in th' corners of her liddle mouth. We sat in th' front room fer awhile, an' I helt th' baby an tol' Nelly about my trip t' th' island, an' how Rufus done got th' septic plan all figgered out. Nelly took t' brushin' the tangles outa her hair, an' she lookt a bit tired. We slept that night with Robin Bluebell between us. I kept wakin' up fer fear I'd roll aroun' an squish th' liddle squirt.
Lookin' back now, that whole firs' year bein' marriet t' Nelly, an' bein' a daddy, seems like one long runnin' blur. Nelly got her cute liddle figger back an' was gittin' ready t' go back t' school an' finish up. I was makin' runs t' th' island ever' other week. With th' help of one of th' Cap'n's friends, we got th' boathouse plumb'd. His friend, namt Blackjack had a backhoe an' dug out th' hole fer th' tank. I was surprist t' find out they was makin' a drop-in tank now made of plastic. No more haulin' rocks an' mixin' up concrete. Ye just droppt th' tank in th' hole an' took t' runnin' pipe. Seemt like more an' more stuff was bein' made of plastic. Even milk bottles was bein' made of plastic. An' Robin Bluebell had a plastic baby bottle that seemt easier fer her to hold than them ol' heavy glass ones.
Somewhere along th' line, me an' Nelly both notict somethin' peculiar about Uncle Blaine. He was goin' over t' Nelly's mama's house quite often. He was always makin' some excuse to go over there. Missus Akkerson an' Blaine acted like it was jus' normal, but me an' Nelly had an idea there was somethin' goin' on between them two. It reminded me of how I used t' make up reasons t' go over to Missus Akkerson's so as t' see Nelly again. Nelly said she was gonna talk t' her mama an' find out what was goin' on, an' I tol' her I would try t' pry somethin' outa Uncle Blaine. T' make a long story short, when Thanksgivin' came aroun', neither me nor Nelly was surprist when Uncle Blaine an' 'Charlie' announct they was gettin' marriet. T' make this story even shorter, granny marriet them off on Christmas day in front of th' Christmas tree. By then, liddle Robin Bluebell was crawlin' all about on th' floor, an' she took t' likin' suckin' on th' pink nose of a stufft bunny Santa brung her. She was also babblin' an' warblin' a lot, an' I took t' callin' her 'Bluebird'.
"Blue bird sittin' by th' wishin' well,
Won't ye come an' sing a song t' me....."
By th' time spring rollt aroun', Nelly was close t' gradiatin'. Missus Shire let Nelly nurse Bluebird in her office onct or twice a day. Me or Nelly's mama one, would carry Bluebird over there, an' we usually brouht Nelly a snack too. As it turnt out, Nelly was excust from classes a month early on account of she had done met all th' requirements. So, she was home then until th' big gradiatin' day ceremony. I decided it was time t' make another quick run t' th' island.
MY NEAR DEATH EXPERIANCE
Me an' Cap'n Rufus had gone out beyon' Danger Point that day 'cause of all th' talk of how th' tuna was runnin'. We got us a purty big haul on th' firs' drop. But, th' sea was gettin' choppy so we turnt th' Folly about. The nex' things that began t' happen, happent so fast it's hard t' describe. Bes' I can recall, we suddenly took a rogue wave over th' tail on the starboard side. It come plum' all th' way over us knockin' me against the port side rail, an' spinnin' th' boat a full ninety d'grees jus' in time t' take another wave crashin' down on th' bow of the Folly. It was like Sugar Joe's one-two punch. I grabbt a line an' tied myself off an' turnt t' holler at Rufus. About that moment, here come another wave crashin' down atop th' cabin. I could see the Cap'n hangin' on t' th' wheel with one han, an' reaching fer a rope with th' other. I saw his knees buckle an' then he was gone. One more wave hit, an' I heard the sound of boards breakin' like bones. We had been tosst against a rocky outcroppin' of Danger Point. I went hand over hand along th' rail lookin fer some sign of Rufus in th' swirlin' water that was breakin' on th' rocks. I finally saw him bobbin' about clingin' to a coupla planks that broke off th' Pelikin. The boat was tilted off t' one side on the rocks, an' th' motor had quit upon th' firs' hit. I crawlt inta the cabin lookin' fer th' life preserver, an' grabbt ahold of the lever fer th' trawlin' arm, an' it was workin'. I droppt th' arm down inta th' water as fas' as I could an' I could see Rufus grabbin' fer the nettin' that was fallin' down all arount 'im. I pusht up on th' lever, but th' arm wouldn' raise. Meanwhile th' crashin' waves was jerkin' th' boat all aroun' on th' rock makin' grindin', splinterin soun's. The Cap'n held onta th' nets an' I tosst him a line. It took me sev'rel trys but I eventu'ly got it t' him. He tied hisself off an began t' try t' climb th' net while I was pullin' as hard as I could. I finally got where I could reach down an grab holt of th' Cap'n's coat sleeve. I could see then he was bleedin' down one side of his head. He manag'd t' hike one foot up over th' rail, an' then I pullt him on over an' down t' th' deck. He took t' coughin' an' spittin', an then said in a raspy watery voice,
"I 'bout swallered th' anchor that time..." After wrappin' his head with some gauze from th' first aid kit, an gittin' him some fresh water, we decided we best try t' climb up on th' point afore th' Folly come apart. We made it t' a shelf about twelve or so feet up, an' there we sat watchin' th' waves feedin' on th' Folly an' carryin' it off a board at a time. My mind was racin' with th' realazashin that me an' th' cap'n had jus' escaped th' fate that had befallen so many afore us. It was an hour or more afore a team of Coast Guard fellas come aclimbin' over th' rock above us an' tosst us a rope an' sling.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Dawn of the Rogue Pulsations
I leaned back at my desk and caressed my secretary's leg as she handed me the mail.
"Read this one to me, mon cherie," I said, handing one back to her. She sat down on the chair next to me and crossed her legs.
"To whom it must concern," she said, in her soft and sultry voice. "Pay close attention to what I say.
It happened about two years ago when during an assignment, the Hubble Space Telescope was oriented to the Constellation Fornax in order to capture ultra deep field observations. To capture images, in other words, at a depth or distance out into space that to date, had never been probed. Images of outermost regions never before seen by man. The images were astounding. But, even more astounding, an occurrence that went unnoticed until the announcement that came only last week from NASA that the Hubble had somehow become infected. That was the word they used. Infected."
"Shall I go on, sir?" my secretary asked.
"Yes," I replied. "I find it somehow endearing."
"A reporter asked,
"What does that mean?" The NASA spokesman shuffled his papers and said,
"An infection is basically an invasion and multiplication of microorganisms." He then stepped away from the mike and would take no further questions. I recalled several years back when I was working for NASA, having a conversation with a colleague at a bar. I remembered he said quite drunkenly,
"What if, out there, there was a non-physical intelligent civilization that existed only as some kind of radioactive pulse? And they notice the pulses we are sending out into the universe, and hijack them and ride them back to earth?"
"You tell me," I replied, being one Russian vodka behind him.
"So, they make it into our receivers," he said," "The satellites, skylab, the Hubble. From there, they are home free and beaming on down to earth."
The detective stuck his toothpick behind his ear.
"So, that's your statement?"
"Yes," I replied. "Don't you see? They are in our tvs now. Our radios. Our cars. Our computers. Our cell phones. They are listening to us all the time. They are tapping our brains. They are putting GPS devices in our shoes. They know our every move. They are controlling us."
"Sargeant," the detective said over his shoulder, "Lock him up."
So, I write to you from my cell now, and I will tie it onto the leg of a rat. Maybe it will find you."
"Its signed, 'Sincerely yours, John Whelby'," my secretary said. I couldn't help but laugh, of course.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Fornax?" she said, dropping the letter down to her lap.
"Yes, I'd like to check your pulse now."
"I'd like to check your pulse too, Mr. Fornax." Our pulsing became one self-exciting circuit on the couch by the window until at last we screamed at the same time,
"Stupid earthlings!"
"Read this one to me, mon cherie," I said, handing one back to her. She sat down on the chair next to me and crossed her legs.
"To whom it must concern," she said, in her soft and sultry voice. "Pay close attention to what I say.
It happened about two years ago when during an assignment, the Hubble Space Telescope was oriented to the Constellation Fornax in order to capture ultra deep field observations. To capture images, in other words, at a depth or distance out into space that to date, had never been probed. Images of outermost regions never before seen by man. The images were astounding. But, even more astounding, an occurrence that went unnoticed until the announcement that came only last week from NASA that the Hubble had somehow become infected. That was the word they used. Infected."
"Shall I go on, sir?" my secretary asked.
"Yes," I replied. "I find it somehow endearing."
"A reporter asked,
"What does that mean?" The NASA spokesman shuffled his papers and said,
"An infection is basically an invasion and multiplication of microorganisms." He then stepped away from the mike and would take no further questions. I recalled several years back when I was working for NASA, having a conversation with a colleague at a bar. I remembered he said quite drunkenly,
"What if, out there, there was a non-physical intelligent civilization that existed only as some kind of radioactive pulse? And they notice the pulses we are sending out into the universe, and hijack them and ride them back to earth?"
"You tell me," I replied, being one Russian vodka behind him.
"So, they make it into our receivers," he said," "The satellites, skylab, the Hubble. From there, they are home free and beaming on down to earth."
The detective stuck his toothpick behind his ear.
"So, that's your statement?"
"Yes," I replied. "Don't you see? They are in our tvs now. Our radios. Our cars. Our computers. Our cell phones. They are listening to us all the time. They are tapping our brains. They are putting GPS devices in our shoes. They know our every move. They are controlling us."
"Sargeant," the detective said over his shoulder, "Lock him up."
So, I write to you from my cell now, and I will tie it onto the leg of a rat. Maybe it will find you."
"Its signed, 'Sincerely yours, John Whelby'," my secretary said. I couldn't help but laugh, of course.
"Will there be anything else, Mr. Fornax?" she said, dropping the letter down to her lap.
"Yes, I'd like to check your pulse now."
"I'd like to check your pulse too, Mr. Fornax." Our pulsing became one self-exciting circuit on the couch by the window until at last we screamed at the same time,
"Stupid earthlings!"
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