Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Lubbock

At first he could turn thoughts of her on and off like a faucet. On, the way she titled her head back when she laughed. Off, did he remember to send his Aunt a birthday card? On, how when she wore the color green it made her eyes stand out. Off, did he take out the trash?

Though lately, the memories of her seeped into him like a perfume. He tried to forget about her. She lived in another state, another time zone. 2148 miles. On paper it wasn’t much but it might as well as been another country in his mind. His feet were planted firmly in Lubbock, Texas. He still lived at home, the son of a bitter, angry Mother and a passive Father. He passed the time by thinking, it didn’t matter what about. He wrote poems and invented things. He created his own language called “Pig French” that was like Pig Latin but except with French words. He wrote plays and made up songs in the shower. Anything but think of her. Lately, the memories of her flew into his pores. He breathed her in like air. He tried to invent a way around it. A pair of pants that you could put on and put in coordinates and it would walk you to your destination. A hat that would beep when it was close to people who loved you, like a metal detector so that if you were lost you could find your way home.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Once

On the surface of the bridge they kissed for the first time, the water below them. Their cold noses pressed up against each other and it made her laugh.

On the airplane he drew animals dancing. One of them looked like this:


Once: He nervously held her hand while walking down 5th Avenue.

Now he sat between two men on a full Boeing 747 en-route to O’Hare. She had moved to Chicago last year to go to art school. He wasn’t the same since she left. He was reserved, quieter.

Once: To impress her he drunkenly danced on a picnic table at the park and fell down and broke his arm. On the way to the emergency room she told him she loved him for the first time.

He ordered a whiskey and coke to calm his nerves as the turbulence hit. Everyone told him it was a bad idea to go see her. She’s probably changed a lot, they said.

“She’s not the same person you dated”

“I heard she’s dating somebody new”

“She cut her hair, she’s lost weight. You won’t even recognize her”

He didn’t care. He needed a change of pace, a change of climate. He was tired of his life in a small college town. He needed the cold air to wake him up from the stupor he was in. He needed to see for himself how she had changed.

Good evening, Ladies and Gentleman. We are approaching our destination. Please return your seats to their upright position and secure the table tray in front of you.

He let out a long breath and awaited the touch down on the runway. He took his address book from his pocket and looked for her phone number. He wondered if she would answer the phone when he called and what he would say to her.

Once: They lay on her bed until 4 in the morning telling stories and making each other laugh. She touched his hair and said “I think I’m really falling for you here”. He smiled and said “me too”.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Strange Medicine

Every day it was the same. At around ten minutes to 6pm he began closing up. He put away the various bottles of pills and medications, counted the money in the cash registers, swept up behind the counter. He usually locked the door a bit early, sometimes as early as 5 minutes to 6. He put on his coat and hat and flipped the sign to “CLOSED” and left promptly to catch his bus home. That was the routine. At least before the day, before things changed.

His name was Jonathon Snow. He was a handsome man in his youth. He went to medical school for a couple of years before dropping out and becoming a pharmacist, much to his Father’s disappointment. Jonathon justified the decision with, “giant hospital bills don’t help people get better, medicine does”.

Now he lived alone, a widower. His wife died in a car accident. He made a habit of not thinking about her or them together. These days he filled his time with puzzles and books or the television. He occupied himself with trivial things that didn’t affect anybody too much. His Grandson bought him a Gameboy for Christmas one year and he played Tetris on the bus ride home. He looked ridiculous, a 64 year old man playing a child’s game among the suit wearing commuters and high school students. But he didn’t care about his image and it showed. He made no efforts to dress well or dye his hair, gussy up his appearance like other men his age. He knew his glory days were over. It used to pain him to see photos of himself as a young man but he got used to it as the years went on. At heart he knew he led a rather sad life but he didn’t let it bother him too much. He was content with the knowledge that his charms had faded. He relished his role as the bitter old man of the neighborhood.

The day things changed was a Tuesday. Jonathon stood at the door of the pharmacy, locking it at exactly 5:56pm when he suddenly felt like somebody was watching him. In the distance he heard a voice call out “Hey, Mister”. He looked to his right, into the parking lot and saw a tall man with thinning hair and bad skin approach him.

“Mister, you work at this pharmacy here?”

“Yes”, Jonathon responded nervously. “Can I help you with something?”

The man leaned toward him and put his hand on his shoulder. Jonathon pulled away, repulsed and scared. “What are you? Some sort of junkie?”

“No. I’m…I’m sorry. Listen. I just need some help. Can I talk to you for a second?”

“If you’re having car trouble I won’t be of any help. We don’t carry any sort of automotive products”

“No, no. It’s…it’s my daughter. You see, she’s sick. I don’t know what she’s got. She needs pills. Something. Can you help us?”

“That’s preposterous! I’m no Doctor! You need medical attention you go to a hospital, they write you a prescription and then you come back and I will give you your medicine”

“But we don’t have insurance. We’ve tried. Don’t you think I know this seems crazy? I’m desperate. I’m not crazy. I’m just a normal guy. Like you”

“You are nothing like me”

“Well, I don’t know what kind of man you are but normal people help out each other and take risks for their fellow man”

“On what planet?”

“She’s 5 years old, sir. Have some compassion”

“O.k. Let’s say I somehow decide to risk my career, my home, my life to help you…”

The man interrupts him, “Her. To help her”

“To help her. You are forgetting the fact that I am not a Doctor. I can’t diagnose diseases. What if I give her the wrong pills? She could get worse. She could die”

“Well, can you at least look at her? See what you think it might be? I mean, don’t you guys have to go to school for medicine? Just…one look. Please?”

The man again put his hand on Jonathon’s shoulder. Jonathon let it remain there this time. He sighed.

“O.k. One look. But I’m not promising anything. And I won’t give you medication without a proper prescription”

The man smiled. “Sure, Doc! Oh, thank you. Thank you. I’m at the end of my rope with this thing.”

“Bring her by to the store tomorrow. For now you must excuse me. I’ve got to catch my bus”

“I can give you a ride. Where do you live?”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. I must be going”

“Alright. Suit yourself. See you tomorrow, Doc!”

“It’s Jonathon. Please. I told you I’m no Doctor”

“O.k. Bye, John” he said as he walked off towards his truck in the parking lot.

Jonathon walked to the bus stop. He instantly regretted the conversation. He wished he’d told the man to get lost, threatened to call the police, screamed bloody murder.

“How ridiculous”, he thought. What if the man has no daughter and instead comes to murder him and steal his drugs? A drug addict out of control, looking for anything he can get his hands on.

He played 3.5 games of Tetris on the ride home to distract him from these kinds of thoughts.

The next day Jonathon lay awake in bed and contemplated not going into work. He could have the girl who worked next door at the bakery put up a sign that says “Closed Today Due to Family Emergency”. He’d done it before when his Sister passed away. His customers would understand. But his conscious plagued him. He envisioned the strange man bundling up his daughter in a ratty winter coat, stolen probably, and driving her to the quiet little street in the upscale neighborhood…all in the hopes that she could feel better.

He left eventually, worried and nervous. He arrived at work late. The man and his daughter were already waiting for him at the door.

“You’re late”

“I thought you would come later. Isn’t she supposed to be in school?”

“Not today. Right, honey?”

“No school for me today”, said the girl.

“She doesn’t look sick”

“She is, Doc. She is”

“Call me Jonathon. Please”

“O.k. Sorry, Johnny”

He fumbled around for the keys to the store and let them in.

“You two must wait here for a moment. I must get things ready”

The man and the daughter waited in silence as Jonathon turned on the lights, flipped signs, turned on cash registers, got money out of the safe and generally made things ready for the public.

“You almost ready to go back there, John?”

“Yes. O.k, come on back”

The man and the girl made their way to the back of the store, up the little set of stairs and into the actual pharmacy.

“Have a seat, little girl”

“Susie. Her name is Susie”

Jonathon smiled at this.

“That was my wife’s name. Well, Susan. But we all called her Susie”.

Susie sat down on an overturned milk crate among the shelves of bottles and boxes.

“She’s named after her Mother’s Grandmother”

“I suppose it’s a common name”

Jonathon bent down to be face to face with the girl.

“O.k, Susie. So what’s wrong? Why don’t you feel good?”

“My ear hurts”

“Your ear?”

“Yeah. My ear is sick”

He looked up at her Father as if to say, “explain”.

“About a week ago she came into my room in the middle of the night crying. She said her ear hurt. We tried Tylenol but it didn’t help. Nothing helps”

“Does your ear hurt all the time, Susie?”

She nodded.

“Does it hurt now?”

She nodded again.

“What kind of pain is it?”

The girl looked up at her Father, confused.

“Tell the man how it feels, babe”

“It hurts”

“I know it hurts, sweetie but…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Does it feel like a sudden, sharp pain? Like if you fell down and got an owie on her knee? Or is it like a dull ache? Like if you had a tummy ache?”

“It hurts for a long time”

The girl began getting bored and playing with her shoes.

Jonathon turned his attention to the Father.

“I think it’s probably an ear infection. If that’s the case you can’t cure it without antibiotics. Nothing over the counter will work”

“Can you give us something for it?”

Jonathon sighed, paused.

“Yes. But please, don’t tell anyone about this or I could lose my license.”

“Of course, of course”

He left them and walked down a long row of shelves and returned with a bottle.

“Does she have any allergies to medication?”

“I don’t think so”

“Well try this. It’s usually a safe bet. It’s a liquid. Give her a tablespoon twice a day, with food”

He looked down at the girl.

“Susie, do you like the taste of grape?”

She nodded.

“We'll give it a shot, Doc. Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me. The sleepless nights, hearing her cry. You have kids?”

“Yes but they’re grown now. I know what it was like though. I understand. If this doesn’t work or you need something else give me call”

Jonathon wrote down his phone number for the man and he hugged Susie goodbye. The men shook hands.

He went on with his day. He had an egg salad sandwich from the deli across the street, he did the New York Times crossword puzzle. He has his usual visit from Mr. Silvestri to refill his anti-depressants. He closed up at ten til 6 and took the long bus ride home in silence. In his rush in the morning he’d forgotten his gameboy.

In the morning he rose early and went to work as usual. He closed the shop at 10 til 6 and went home. No word from the man or his daughter. This routine went on for about a week until the man once again greeted him from the parking lot as he closed the shop up. He jumped when he heard the man approach.

“Oh, jeez. You startled me. Don’t you believe in telephones?”

Both men chuckled.

“Well, how is she?”

“Better. I think. She said it doesn’t hurt as much anymore. I think it’s slowly going away. You’re a genius, Doc. Thank you”

“Well, you’re welcome. I’m glad I could help”

“Can we get another bottle? You know, one for the road?”

“Of course. Come in”

He reopened the door and led the man to the back once again. He gave him another bottle and said that she should be completely fine after another couple days.

“What do you I owe you for your help?”

“You keep it. No charge”

The man hugged Jonathon and thanked him. He offered him a ride home again. This time he accepted the man’s gracious offer and they rode together in the man’s pick-up truck.

The man noticed Jonathon had a newspaper tucked under his arm.

“You read the sports section today?”

“No. I’m afraid I’m not big on sports. I enjoy the crossword puzzle”

“Oh. I like the jumble. I don’t have the brain for the crossword”

The men continued on like this for some time.

He let Jonathon off in front of his house and as he opened the truck door asked if he would accept a dinner as a thank you for his help. Jonathon said it was a deal.

When he came over he brought his Gameboy for Susie to play with while the men talked in the kitchen. Susie was back to normal and wild as all get out.

“Where’s your wife?” Jonathon asked the man.

“Oh. She’s passed”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t know”

“It’s o.k. I know its cause I look young. She died of cancer. We didn’t have the money to fight it”

“My wife is gone too. She died in a car accident”

“I’m sorry to hear that”

“It’s o.k. I’m too old for a wife anyway”

The men laughed and Susie did too even though she didn’t understand what was funny.

Jonathon let her keep the Gameboy. “I’m too old for that too”

Things were different after that.

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

The Spirit of Her Spirit

Her ghosts are everywhere.
On the bus there’s the ghost of her hair.
At the library I smell the ghost of her perfume.

It isn’t just that she left me. Or left us. It’s that she left herself.

She changed. She cut her hair. She changed the way she dressed, started wearing simpler clothes. Blacks, grays. She got a tattoo of a boat on her forearm. I missed her unmarked flesh. I missed her bright blue dresses.

I remember the last conversation we had.

I just don’t feel like talking anymore.

With me or in general?

In general, George. In general.


She used to call my answering machine when she knew I was away and sing silly songs into the tape. She would tell stories for hours when I couldn’t. She was my voice. Now I feel like a mute, haunted and alone.