Boston Darkens

by Michael Kravitz

  As I backed out of the driveway, I hesitated to look both ways for other cars, even though I knew that there were no other cars around for miles. Old habits were hard to break. As I proceeded in the direction of home, I first drove to William’s house. Fred was outside. He was still cursing the squirrel. I stopped my car, and William came out to greet me. I handed him the package of syringes and insulin. He was quite excited that I could secure them. I kept the engine going.

  “William, I am sorry I cannot stay. I have some unpleasant news for Alice,” I said. “Stop by tomorrow at noon. We can talk and listen to the survival radio.” Then I drove off.

  William just nodded, and I proceeded on down the road to my house.

  Home sweet home. Alice, Jessica, and Randy came out to see me. Randy checked out the car very carefully. He put his hand on the Buick. It was like his woman. He cared for it very lovingly. “Ben, glad you came back. All of us were nervous,” Alice said with a sigh of relief. “Were you able to get everything accomplished?”

  “Yes, Alice, everything.” I held my head low.

  “Mom? What about Mom?” Alice asked, her hand over mouth.

  “I am very sorry, Alice. This is as hard for me as it is for you.” Then I looked her in the eyes.

  “Why? How? I don’t get it. She was in for a routine bypass.” She was in shock and denial.

  “I know, Alice. I know. I thought the same way,” I said slowly. At this point Alice broke down. She really cried for many minutes. I just let her go on. She needed to find some closure. “I did talk to one of the doctors. They couldn’t get a team together. They also did not have all the equipment that was needed for the operation. There were a high percentage of operations that were canceled,” I said, choosing my words carefully.

  “What happens now with her, Ben?” she said as she wiped tears from her face.

  “I asked that question at the front desk. The clerk said that all the people who have passed will be carefully logged. They are going to put everyone in pauper’s graves. They can only keep all the corpses for a short time,” I said, and she started to cry again.

  “My mom deserves better. She was a good woman, a loving mother.” “You’re right, Alice. It is not only her. It is many people,” I explained, trying to make sense of this mess. At this point I walked up to Alice and hugged her. Jessica and Randy, both sensitive to the situation, hugged their mom for several minutes.

  Randy took the keys from me and moved the Buick to the back. I knew he was ready to check the oil and the tires. Even with the trip to Connecticut and Boston, it wasn’t enough miles to do an oil change.

  He knew I was responsible with his car, so I went directly into the house. Alice had supper on the table for me. I told her I really needed something strong to calm my nerves. She brought out a shot of bourbon and set it by the lit candles on the table.

  Tonight I would just let her be with her emotions. After I talked to Jessica and Randy, it was time for bed. Somehow all the words in the world wouldn’t make a difference. It was only time that could heal these wounds. I did tell her that when it was safe, we could have our own little service at the grave. I held her as we slept.

  I was up early. Alice still slept. She had been crying most of the night. Finally when she was exhausted, she fell asleep. I was as quiet as I could be. Temperature was not too bad. It was probably in the fifties.

  The gas generator ran a good forty to fifty minutes a day. Alice and Jessica were able to do ironing and use the microwave. As quiet as I could be, I went into our wooden dresser drawer. I pulled out clean clothes. After yesterday’s episode I needed a shower. Damn, shaving and showering in cold water really sucked. It was a fast shower.

  Breakfast consisted of pasta between two slices of wheat bread. At least Alice had mixed in some veggies. I put an overcoat on just to get the chill out of my body. A cold shower and dressing in a chilly home didn’t cut it. I heated up an instant coffee. Usually I was the first one up. Jessica was also an early riser. I was in fairly good shape, maybe just twelve to fifteen pounds over my ideal weight. This past two weeks, however, my calorie intake was way down.

  I walked outside. The air was crisp, and the sky was blue. In the burbs there was little pollution. Now there was hardly any traffic. The air should be even cleaner, except for some radiation. On the survival radio, I didn’t heard any mention of the air though.

  Off in the distance, I saw one of our collaborative members. She was a divorcée of average height, and she watched her food intake. She was easy on the eyes. Her daughter was also very attractive. Randy had seen her too, but for some reason, they hadn’t spoken to each other yet. Her ex-husband loved his daughter, but he was a womanizer. It reached a point where the mother just couldn’t take the humiliation anymore.

  Randy definitely liked females, but he was a little awkward around them. The divorcée’s daughter suffered emotional damage from her father’s behavior. He never mistreated her. He just didn’t show up when he said he would. She seemed traumatized by this pattern. But she liked men, even though she didn’t trust them.

  I waved to the divorcée to come join me. I had a milk crate and water cooler to sit on. She was dressed for gardening. We talked about growing a larger vegetable garden. She indicated to me that if others could help her, there would be a lot of food for the collaborative. I smiled and said, “That’s a great idea.”

  At this point Jessica was up. She had her coffee in hand. “Morning, Dad,” she said with a beautiful smile. “Morning” she said to the divorced lady.

  “Come. Join us, dear. Trust me. It’s the only game in town,” I said, trying to keep the mood light. She sat to my left, using me as a buffer. It was fine. At least I had showered. I wasn’t wearing deodorant, but I was good. I loved my wife, but this was good therapy for me.

  Jessica had really bonded with me. On her wedding day, I will undoubtedly break down. Now I needed to get Randy out of his shell. Hmm, I thought, if we get back to normal, perhaps I will get him a round-trip ticket to Amsterdam. I’ ll tell him to do some window shopping. That should do it.

  “Jessica, we were talking about growing a large vegetable garden,”

  I said to bring her into the loop. “If only we had a chicken farm. Then we would be self-sufficient,” I said jokingly.

  “Count me in. I would love to learn about growing a vegetable garden,” she said to the divorced lady.

  “Done then,” I said as I slapped both knees. I think I’ll gather more wood for a bonfire again.”

  “That was a great night,” the divorced lady recollected. “I am delighted your wife went in the tub first. It is good to see you have a good marriage,” she said in an approving manner.

  “Dad, can we sing some Taylor Swift or hip-hop music this time?” Jessica said. “Neil Diamond? Really, Dad?”

  I was going to say something, but she would understand later in life. Wait till she starts paying bills, I thought. I paused for a moment and commented, “Honey, you can show us your talents tonight. I will get the Hendersons to help with the well water again.” At this point Jessica only showed a half smile. She thought the world of Mr. Henderson. She just wanted to keep away from his son.

  I finished my coffee, and I excused myself. I wanted to make sure we had enough wood. I knew that others would show up after noon. As I started gathering wood, Alice came outside. She had a coffee but no food with her. We all handled stress differently. Some just gouged themselves, while others did not eat at all. I was not entirely sure what I could say to comfort her.

  “Morning, hon” I said. I gave her my recognition but left the tone of conversation up to her. She looked at me.

  “Morning,” she halfheartedly said. She sat down and looked past me. “It doesn’t seem fair or real to me,” she said in a despondent manner. “There was never a mean bone in her body. There is so much evil in the world, and God takes away the good.
The people who set off the nuke—I wonder where their souls are,” she said with bit of anger.

  I continued with my wood gathering. Somehow, trying to comfort Alice with words seemed counterproductive. She has to deal with the memories and the proverbial why. Why did the nuke go off now? Why did my mother not go last year? Why couldn’t we get a hospital outside of the city? Maybe I should have gone there right away. Maybe I could have demanded or taken her someplace else. She would beat herself up for days and maybe weeks. The constant why would play out over and over.I needed to give her some space.

  After my trip to Boston, I was thankful to be out in the burbs. Our group seemed proactive. There was not only camaraderie but a real feeling that we would pull through this. Each day we heard the engine of military cargo planes. There was activity. Many of the cities along the East Coast were a lot larger than Boston.

  Mr. Henderson usually dropped by around noon. I raked out the pit and readied the wood. I made a temple out of it. Air had to circulate in and out of the wood pile. There was a good perimeter around it. This way there would be no forest fires.

  The sundial showed that it was a little past 12:30 p.m. when Mr. Henderson showed up with a six-pack of beer.

  “Must be past noon, Mr. Randal,” he commented, trying to determine if I would have a beer with him.

  “It certainly is,” I said as I started to salivate. “Why not get a bucket of cold water from the well, and we can put them in there. But just put four of them in. I can use one now.” Alice went back into the house. In another hour people would come with the generator.

  We both sat down and engaged in a few minutes of small talk. I raised some necessary points. “If we are going to survive, this collaborative group we need common goals. There has to be a list. All of us should have a say.” After a few minutes, my next-door neighbor, the drunk, showed up.

  “Afternoon, gents,” the drunk greeted us both. “Afternoon,” both Mr. Henderson and I said in return.

  “This is a first. Starting the party without me?” He bought out his bottle of whiskey. He looked at his watch and looked at the sundial. “Damn, this sundial is pretty accurate.”

  “Have a seat. We are going to have a little meeting if enough show up,” I commented. At this point Jessica, Randy, and William came over and sat down. “After the meeting I will start the fire. We can cook and heat up some water for washing and bathing.” I said to our little group. “I’d like to clear out my can goods. I can’t even walk in the room,” the drunk said in a helpful manner.

  “Let’s go. Randy and I will help bring out some of the cans. Why don’t you put down the bottle of whiskey? You can drink it later,” Jessica said. She had taken on a new admiration for the drunk. Hopefully she could instill a new purpose for him in his life. Randy grabbed a wheelbarrow. They went off to the drunk’s house. Jessica had really had an effect on him. I hoped it would last.

  It was hard for the rest to tell time. I decided to start the fire. I really wanted to get the meeting out of the way. I put my beer down. William helped light the fire. After a few minutes, the fire was roaring. You could see the flames for several blocks. Instead of using a cell phone, I could now send up smoke signals. Wow, I actually learned something watching those old westerns. It worked. Everyone showed up except Officer Ryan. He was likely called to duty.

  As we started the meeting, we heard another cargo plane. The military seemed serious about bringing in supplies. Mr. Henderson’s son told us about an army truck going to the center of town. The routine had been going on for two weeks. Many people were surely without food. The town water was still running. The taste was bad though, and I was not sure it has been tested.

  “This is our meeting, everyone. We need a list of goods for our survival. Anyone want to start?” I said, trying to get things started.

  “Does anyone have a pair of hair clippers? We can cut hair once a week. While we run the iron and refrigerator, why not cut hair?” Alice said as she decided to be proactive. She looked at me and smiled. The death of her mother was taxing on her. She knew I was trying to keep everything together. She did not want to add more weight to my shoulders. Besides, it was good for her to get a break from her heavy grief once in a while.

  It wasn’t long before several members offered some great ideas. This was the first time I could take a break from leading the collaborative. Now it was working on its own. After several minutes of good ideas, it turned into a good old group therapy. No one knew about the inner problems of others. It seemed everyone wanted to clean their own souls. Even the liberal union worker confessed his little bubble had busted. For the first time he saw that the politicians usually took care for themselves first. They were still living large while we suffered.

  Many of our emotions came out. We were all suffering together. No longer were we competing for better jobs and lifestyles or trying to show that my house is better than someone else’s.

  It all reminded me of an old sitcom that my father liked. I didn’t watch the realty shows like Alice and Jessica used to. My father loved the Bob Newhart Show. Our therapy session reminded me of one particular episode.

  His landlord, Mr. Carlson, walked into his office. His hair was scuffled. He had a sport jacket on, which was not much of a fashion statement. He leaned against the receptionist’s counter. He was talking to her but not looking at her. He always saw the glass as half empty. He seemed well off financially, but he was always bored. He liked to meddle in the affairs of the others. The receptionist was tall and statuesque. She often sat at her desk and filed her nails. She liked one-liners that had a little sarcasm. These were two people talking to each other but not listening.

  Bob Newhart walked into the office. He was going to have a group therapy session. That moment seemed like what we were doing now. He asked Mr. Carlson if he would like to join in. Mr. Carlson, who was bored, always wanted to know what Bob Newhart did, so he agreed. Bob Newhart shut the door. The receptionist continued with her nails. Mr. Carlson sat somewhat in the middle of the group. Bob sat opposite everyone but faced them. He started the session off. Everyone started to pour out their hearts and problems. Instead of joining in, Mr. Carlson looked at everyone. He was amused. He did have a remark to everyone. In today’s politically correct society, his blunt and somewhat tasteless comments would not be accepted. Everyone looked at him and then continued with the session.

  After the meeting was over, he asked Bob what he charged for a session. As he looked at Bob Newhart, he said, “That’s a lot of money just to talk.” He indicated that he would have to increase Bob’s rent. I always carried the recollection of this episode my whole life. We can always misjudge others by just looking at their external appearance. It is important to look into their souls. This is the place where the true value of any human resides.

  Our little collaborative had grown emotionally tolerant of others. It was great. The fire was going strong. All of us were well feed. Many took baths and washed their clothes. We did have the survival radio for those who had a yearning for the latest news. Our health and spirits were strong. Deep down we all knew that something was going to happen.

  California’s economy is larger than the economies of most countries. Combine that with some of the closest states, and you still have a viable country. The government would not allow the relocation of millions of people. With Katrina, the government contained them in a large superdome. I found that sad. The government was still pouring over all of the options. The lack of news is what caused such high anxiety.

  This night passed without any drama. The drunk had a timepiece that worked. I really wanted to get to bed. A lot of stress made me tired. Mr. Henderson made sure the fire was under control. He kept a buffer around the pit.

  After I had been around the fire for several hours, my whole body had warmed up. Then I climbed under the covers. It felt great. Alice came in after a few hours. I thank her for the support before I
was off to my dream world.

  I did sleep well. There were no noises from cars. Looking out the window, there was just darkness—no streetlights or house lights. A few of the neighbors did have candles or battery lights. Because we were getting closer to May, I feared the hot, humid weather. In the Sunbelt, the situation would surely be dire.

  Most mornings turned out to be the same. We would have coffee with a little milk or powdered cream. Today, however, William came by. He and his wife had several creams. He gave me one. He appreciated the insulin and syringes. He did inquire about the army truck that a few people had seen. I told him, “I believe it is only a matter of time before we received help. The logistics of helping millions must be a nightmare.” William agreed. He did not want to leave Fred unattended for a long time, so he decided to go back home. It was hard to gauge the weather. The skies were ominous. Late April could bring many rainy days.

  It was hard to read the sundial when it was cloudy out. My best guess was that it was a little after nine in the morning. Jessica was up and trying to clean around the living room. Randy was not up yet. He had a good time talking to Mr. Henderson’s sons. I personally thought he should have at least acknowledged the divorcée’s daughter. The next time I see the divorcée, I now thought, I will suggest that her daughter and Randy start on the garden. Damn, am I good.

  I didn’t know if it was going to rain. Alice would be up soon, and I decided to start another little fire. When Alice got up, she could make some soup. I liked to read some of my textbooks too. An outside fire would keep me and others warm. It was so much better being out in the burbs than it had been navigating downtown Boston. I started the fire and went in to get a book and a few manuscripts. It was not a day on the beach, but to me, it was close. A half an hour into my self-indulgence, I heard a strange sound like that of a two-cycle engine. The noise was getting louder and closer.