“No Buddy, it doesn't sound strange at all. I took my children to church for years and even was an usher at the First Baptist Church. I memorized scriptures and even paid my tithes, but it took me years to get the Father’s love in my heart, not just my head. I think God wants us to be lights that shine in a dark world. He wants us to bind up the hurting and hold the broken and be his messengers, but too many of us walk out of our homes every morning with one thing on our mind and that’s ourselves. It’s when we see other people’s needs and reach out that he heals us.”
The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, wondering what the future held for both of them.
“You bout ready, Ole Timer?”
Walter nodded with a half grin, “About as ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Holding the Pain
Chapter 50
Desiree was sitting in the parking lot. She could see Bradford and Benjamin talking down the walkway under the street light. She was still feeling so much hurt, so much rage. She watched as they embraced and couldn’t contain herself. Bradford was patting Benjamin on the back in a manly fashion. The two were deep in conversation and here she sat all alone. “Don’t you know what he did to me? Oh, Bradford he took my children’s father away. Can’t you see?” She was talking aloud in the front seat of her van, knowing that no one could hear her. Then she heard another voice in her head say, “Desiree, that is his son, he can’t help it. He loves his son.” She began to answer the voice in her head. “Yes, he can! He can help it, he can, at least, see my side too!”
She started the van and drove off screeching her tires. Finally, when she reached the expressway she had started to take deep breaths and exhale. Benjamin would never know what he had put her through. “Oh, he could never repay, he could never repay,” she repeated aloud. For him to even be able to breathe, was a crime in itself.
Her children could never get their father back. Josh’s face flashed before her and then memories of him and John throwing a ball in the backyard. John had been such a great father. She could hear him cheering Josh on, “Catch it, Josh, you can do it! That’s my boy!” Josh’s eyes were squinted in the sunlight, but his grin was as wide as the catcher’s mitt he had on. She had memories of her daughter with her delicate features and angelic face resting in John’s arms, her head lying upon his sturdy shoulder, hidden in the security of a father’s strength. But Tabitha’s chance to know her father had been snatched from her. The little patter of feet running to greet him, “Daddy, Daddy,” had been silenced. He would never walk her down the aisle. Her father would never teach her how to swim or ride a bike with no training wheels. Her father would never see her or Josh graduate from high school or college. He would never see Tabitha in a prom dress. He would never see her become the beautiful woman she would one day, and he would never see his grandchildren. He would never be able to teach Josh how to drive a car or become the young man he intended.
Desiree began to talk aloud, “What are the odds? Come on God, why is this happening to me? Why can’t anything good happen in my life? Why do you hate me so much? I was just getting over John and beginning to live again? Why? Oh, it’s no use, I hate you, I hate you, God! Do you hear me? You never give me good gifts. How are you love? You do not love. If this is how you show love, I don’t want to know you.”
All she wanted to do was go get drunk. If Benjamin could, why couldn’t she? Oh, but she wouldn’t drive drunk, no, she wasn’t that stupid or selfish! She pulled into the wine shop and bought a bottle of Beringer and a pack of Salem lights.
The man behind the counter double bagged her bottle in brown paper and smiled up at her greasily. His beady eyes rested on her chest and then arose. “Good evening,” he said smiling. She snarled her lip and peered at him with eyes that said, mister, don’t even think about it. Without even saying thank you, she grabbed the bag, waited for her receipt and left.
“Scum, they’re all scum.” She stepped into the van and tried to breathe for the first time since the episode. She kept replaying each scene in her mind. The smirk on Benjamin’s face, the concern Bradford had for his son, save none for her.
She was going home alone, and she was going to get lit. The children would have to wait. Tomorrow she would go back to being Desiree Levite, faithful mother and good upstanding citizen. I’m turning into him, the very person I don’t want to be she thought as she packed the cigarette case and unwrapped the cellophane paper. Desiree lit the smoke and took a deep breath. It didn’t take too many drags for her to feel dizzy. Feeling guilty for doing it, she called her grandmom and told her that she wouldn’t be able to pick up the kids until morning, even though she really should. She pulled into the driveway of her home and sat there unable to even get out of the van. There was no one else whose life compared to hers, and she just wanted to escape, just one night of forgetting. Dwight Yoakam sang in a high twangy voice from the radio.
She wrapped her arms around herself and she began to sob. Holding herself because there was no one to hold her. No, it was just her now, her against the world, and as she felt her hands rubbing her shoulders, trying to ease her own pain, it became too much for her. “John, oh how I wish you were here!” In the darkness, she began to weep until she thought there could possibly be no more tears left inside her. Then she picked up the bottle of wine and made her way inside. She was going to drink until the bottle was as empty as she felt.
Angelic Covering
Chapter 51
Daniel was thankful that things were coming together. He felt closure and a sense deep down that everything would be fine. Sandra had been sleeping a lot, but she was regaining her strength and not having as many bladder issues. He noticed she was very off balance and as bad as she loathed her cane, she needed it now to get around safely. The twins wore her out and to lift them was beyond her strength. She had tried on one occasion, and after almost dropping one, she decided it was best to not attempt it. Nevertheless, she seemed more positive lately and eager to face this monster they’d met, named multiple sclerosis. She might have MS but it was not going to have her. Daniel too was adjusting to this new wife who was often lethargic and depressed. They were beginning to find new things to do as a couple, slower things, like old movies and nights around the fire sipping tea and reading to the twins. Going out on the town or playing tennis together were foreign now, and he had come to terms with less sex in his life now. It was something they did less often due to her fatigue, but it seemed to have more meaning, more of a genuine sweetness and more bent on love. He didn’t know what the future held, and at times he became frightened by Sandra’s illness. He thought maybe this was partially due to his mother’s suffering. He was thankful now for the support he was getting from his sister and Burt. Just telling them felt as if he had untied a huge load he’d been carrying.
Spending the day with Brenda had given him hope that Sunday would be a pleasant time. They had reminisced over past photos and memories of their childhood, and they had bonded over the cares and struggles they had both dealt with that year. They were going to the cemetery and spend the day with their mother. He was getting a vase of artificial yellow roses, and the twins would be placing real flowers on the tomb. They were taking bread to feed the ducks at the lake that was just past the Memorial Gardens. He was so thankful that the tension between him and Brenda had subsided and the truth was finally out about Sandra.
They were going to take a picnic lunch to a nearby park after visiting with their mother. The cemetery was more of a haven filled with sculptures, plants, and gardens with sitting areas. A huge pond filled with ducks and swans in the distance were watched over by a guardian angel whose marble features were indescribable. Her hair was long and wave after wave held her arched neck and outstretched wings. Her eyes were pools of desire and she wore the sweetest expression as if she were greeting each member and taking them up to Saint Peter himself. Daniel had been thrilled about the spot and knew his mother would be content there, with the beautiful flower gar
dens that she had loved so much while here. Soon he would have to come to terms with his father. He knew his father had been dying silently for so long watching his mother deteriorate and that his father needed him, and he hoped that they could be a family again and that the twins would one day get to know their grandfather. Yes, he had a strange feeling that everything would be alright. For some reason, he felt as if closure and answers were coming. He felt a peace that he had longed for and a knowing that good things were on their way. Daniel folded the blanket and placed it by the bags he’d gotten together for Sunday. The phone rang and startled him as he was in deep thought. “Hello.”
“Hey Daniel, its Brenda, you ready for Sunday?”
He detected a joy in her voice, an almost giddiness. “Yeah, just packing up some things for the twins and getting ready to make lunch for Sandra, you?”
“Yes, and so is Burt. We’re taking Sam and letting him run around a bit. I haven’t heard from the police in a while, how about you?”
“No, no news is good news, right?”
“Yes and no, I would sure like to know where Dad is though. It would be good to have this all out in the open and know what truly happened and how his mental state is.”
“Yeah, I know Brenda,” Daniel said with a sigh, “It sure would be a big relief.”
“Speaking of good news, I have grand good news!”
“Oh, well do share, I am ready to hear.”
“Oh, no, no, no . . . you must wait until we meet on Sunday, when Sandra, Burt and the twins are there. I want to tell everyone!”
“Well, I can’t wait till then, you know me, give it up already!”
“But Burt doesn’t even know yet!”
“So, you can tell him when you tell everyone else and I’ll act surprised.”
“Daniel, I just went to the doctor yesterday and I’m PREGNANT!” She screamed in the background, excited at her own words.
“Oh, I am so happy for the two of you. I know it’s something you have both longed for and now it’s finally here. How far along are you?”
“Just a couple months, but I can’t even believe it’s real. I keep rubbing my belly and talking to this little life force that’s just waiting to come out and bring me more joy than I have ever felt.”
“Brenda, that’s truly wonderful and I promise I will act more surprised than anyone there!”
“Well, I gotta run, Daniel. I’ll see ya Sunday.”
“With bells on, sis.” He hung up the phone and smiled to himself, “Yes, I feel it in my spirit, everything is going to be alright!”
Rivers are Damp
Chapter 52
Marcie stumbled across the walkway with her arm cupped around the arm of Steve. He was the older gentleman with the dark tan who she had met earlier at Frank’s. He was leading her to his hotel room that was adjacent to the Steak House. Steve was old enough to be her father, and worse than that, he reminded her of him. He only cared about his material possessions and what little trophy girl he could get to dangle from his arm. They passed his Corvette, and he pointed out to Marcie how good she would look in the front seat next to him. Marcie in her drunken state was still able to notice his empty ring finger, where a permanent indent showed ample evidence that his wedding ring had been removed. Marcie hated men. She wished she could just escape, or better still just end it all. What kept her here? Her mother was worthless and weak and her father was cruel and selfish, merely caught up in his wealth and prestige. What was the point of living? She had no job and no true friends, and college was just a place to go so everyone in her family could say she was a graduate. Life sucked and she was tired of the whole thing, not to have to wake up in the morning and struggle through it would be a relief. She doubted anyone would notice she was gone, and then Benjamin would have a real story to tell. Yes, he would have a real woman that was a part of his life that died, not some fictitious story he had fabricated in his mind.
“You like champagne?” Steve said bringing her back to her inebriated state. “I can have some brought to the room.” Steve was smiling wickedly while soaking in her body and thinking about all the things he wanted to do to her. Marcie was indeed repulsed by him, but she had drunk way too much for her one hundred and twenty-pound body to handle and she was off balance at this point. She really just wanted to lie down and sleep it off. Marcie half stumbled, half fell onto the bed.
“Yes, that’s it, get comfy,” Steve said while rubbing her back.
She kept drifting in and out of an unconscious state until Steve quickly jolted her into reality, she could feel him tugging on her. What was he doing? Marcie tried to open her eyes and focus, but the room was spinning a bit and she wasn’t feeling so well. He yanked her boots off, and she felt more comfortable and he had even gotten a pillow for her head. She was just about to doze off again when she realized that Steve was trying to pull her black velvet pants off and he did not seem to care if she was impaired. Marcie tried to kick Steve, but she was so wasted it was a futile attempt. He just didn’t seem to want to give up. His hands were like octopus tentacles and he was not going to let her get away it seemed. Then Marcie decided to try and scare him. “You know I’m only seventeen, right Steve?” She was slurring but still had her wits about her. “Maybe you know my father, he’s president and CEO of Stewart Enterprise? I gots a fake ID Sheve,” she said through slurred lips.
“Darlin, there’s no way you are seventeen. I wasn’t born last night, and I really don’t care who your daddy is because he isn’t around at the moment now is he? So, come on pretty lady let an older man show you what a little girl really needs. You’ve been hanging around little boys too long, that’s your problem. Shhh now, don’t you worry about a thing, I’m gonna take mighty good care of you” He began to unclasp her hair and push it back out of her eyes and then he began kissing her forehead and down her neckline.
Marcie was so tired she just wanted to close her eyes and go to sleep and never wake up again. “God, why do I keep waking up?” she slurred into the darkness. Steve finally after multiple massages and kind whispers succeeded at his attempt to remove her pants, and she succeeded at passing out and coming to, not really even aware of the motions.
She didn’t care about herself anymore. He might as well use me, she thought, and go on his way, every other man has and now she felt like trash anyway. No respectable man would want her, and so she lay there and waited for him to finish using her, as more silent tears slid across her cheeks. Marcie seemed almost certain now that killing herself was the right thing to do. “Please God, help me never wake up again,” she said aloud, as she felt him roll off of her and onto his side. She had an empty place inside her soul and an ache inside her heart that felt too large to ever heal properly. She thought of the many different ways she could kill herself, each one reminding her of something or someone she knew.
Sylvia Plath had stuck her head in the oven while her children took a nap. She didn’t think she was that far gone, but who knew? If she had children then maybe she’d have something to live for, but she didn’t. She had no one now. She once had a good friend in high school who had hanged himself by the lake. No one found him for days and she remembered how disturbed his parents were over it. Her own parents, she thought, would be relieved. She thought about taking a handful of pills. That could be the easiest way to go and then as she pondered it all, she thought of a poem she had memorized in high school by Dorothy Parker:
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
For some reason, the poem made her smile. Maybe it was because someone besides her had been thinking about all the ways to die and decided to live. But Marcie couldn’t think of one reason to live, not one tiny itty bitty one! She drifted in and out of unconscious sleep until she was aware of her surroundings and th
e sunlight that was trying to peep in from behind the heavy drapery. Marcie then slipped quietly out of bed and went to the washroom and began soaking a washcloth and rubbing the small square of soap into it and she started scrubbing the mascara that had run down her cheeks with her tears. She washed under her arms and then she got the hottest water she could and tried to scrub the places Steve had invaded, but she knew she could never scrub that filth off of her, no, no matter how much soap and water she used, she would always be dirty.
She dressed quickly never letting her eyes land on Steve. She thought if she looked at him he might feel her eyes and she’d never get out of there. She picked up his dress slacks out of the floor and pulled the fat black leather wallet out of his back pocket, then she walked to the nightstand next to the bed and picked up the shiny Rolex and the keys to his even shinier Corvette. She grabbed her purse and her boots and gently opened the door. Turning the lock back silently, she slipped down the sidewalk and pushed the unlock button on the Corvette’s key chain and eased herself behind the wheel.
Been hanging around little boys too long huh Steve? So you think that’s my problem? I just needed a real man to teach me, is that it? Well, I’ll teach YOU STEVE! And with that, she squealed tires and burned rubber out of the parking lot. Marcie reached into the side pocket of her purse and lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and blew out a perfect line of smoke. Then she screamed into the sunlight that was just breaking through the clouds, “GOD, WHY DO I KEEP WAKING UP?”
Walter The Homeless Man Page 22