by Dervan Brown
Say Hello To The Broken-Hearted
Dervan Brown
Copyright © 2014 Dervan Brown
All rights reserved.
ISBN-10: 1495443426
ISBN-13: 978-1495443428
Chapter 1
Many times in this life we are fortunate to say hello to the one our hearts desire. We brush shoulders with them on the sidewalks, meet the eyes, but keep going nonetheless. You may get on a bus, take a seat beside her, but because of the newspaper in your hand, and the preoccupancy of your mind on the mid semester paper, you didn’t say hello before she got off, never to see her again. That’s when your heart breaks, with you not even knowing.
Other times love comes our way. Sincere love, but we make the shackles of society dictate to us who our hearts, which has no boundaries, knows no color, and respects no morals, should love. So we miss out on forever happiness, which by the way is real, real as the wind that travels through the valley and brings life to the birds, bees and trees.
However, this fellow by the name of John Steelburg, understood that true love only passes by once or twice in this life. So the first chance he got, he caught the firefly and bottled her, to keep her light for the longest of time.
The summer was young, but as dead as the heat that came with it, so was the boredom.
John had gotten summer break from college, and had just arrived in the country hills of Sawyers. To spend the time with his mother Jennifer Williams, his older brother Kevin Steelburg, and his sister Kathy Warren, who he despised as much as she did of him.
The house had a lived in look. The furniture was old, and was in need of dusting. The tiles were made of marble, and the walls carried dirty paint and childish graffiti. The house was centered on a hill. It faced the valley, and the road that separated the overlooking mountain. It was a fifteen minute walk from the town of the community. It is a town, or at least that is the simplest adjective to describe the haberdashery store, which was the community’s only source of food and household items.
The antique Methodist church was gardened with weeds, and shrubs from the steps covered with tattered tiles to the wooden cross that bared a Jesus looking down on the incoming congregation. Also at the very center of the town was a wooden barber shop under the streetlight.
The hair cutting business was usually very slow at that time of the year. So the older folks often sat on the piece of wooden chair at the front of the shop, passing the days circulating the latest community gossips, as the tobacco smoke lingered the air.
While they carried on, the youngsters were usually found in the bar adjacent to the shop. Youthful exuberance without the help of gin or brandy echoed from within the bar. They carried enough pennies to buy water, but not enough for wine. Nonetheless the latest rumors made the subject of the bar talk.
John would often find himself among them in the midst of the chattering. When there was a lunar eclipse or when Christ made a second arrival. His five feet two inches disciplinarian, and over protective mother would not palpitate hard enough before he was out of there and in his room, even at age twenty-one.
However, his mother was least worried about the company John kept. He knew he was a way respected young man within the community. He was often applauded by the elderly in the village and his church brothers and sisters. Pity they knew not, he was more of a church goer than he was a Christian. He spent more of the time criticizing the gospel than finding the divinity within the paradox.
John used to be a steadfast believer in the bible, but since he started his university education in General Science, a conflict of interest and belief between facts and faith have given new doubts and led him to finding favor with the rest of the bible leaf chewers within the church.
A maverick, one would call him and by all means justified. If he was the president of the United States and happened to find himself in the Situation Room with all his advisers and consultants having a synonymous decision, he would disagree holding a controversial ground, and of course in the end, remained the only man standing on the moon. His intelligence complimented his physique. He was one of those guys you saw in a suit that looked sophisticated and smart and actually proved so when he spoke. He was six feet tall. He had black hair, which was always kept sharp, dark brown eyes, hypnotic enough to search your soul and find hidden secrets that you yourself didn’t knew exist. His face was well define, his cheeks gently layered his skull and carried dimples that radiated his smile which was complimented by white teeth and a bottom and top lip, painted with the juice squeezed from cherries.
God himself went to the garden of Eden and picked the coca fruits and the vanilla beans, then went back to heaven to refine the beans and extract the dark brown paste which was then used by an old French angel gifted with hands to produce art of exotic and sweet mosaic, to color his body from his toes to the head of his temple.
John was raised in Sawyers. Jennifer Williams left the small hometown when she was impregnated with him. His mother and father Peter Steelburg, wanted a much better life for them than what the remote town could have offered. However, his dad migrated to the USA when he was two years old, leaving just his mother to raise him and the two other siblings. Even though his dad continued to support them financially, it wasn’t enough to stop him from asking his mother, ‘where dad is, and why he is not here with us?’ He grew cold and numb of his father’s love. As such he wasn’t familiar with his father’s family and his mother who wasn’t accepted by them much didn’t bother to communicate. Thus John grew up without knowing them really. His aunt and uncle along with his cousins on his father’s side were only a figment of his imagination.
Jennifer Williams moved back to Sawyers in order to take care of her parents. They later died from natural causes. It was by that consequence why John was trapped in this dead beat town without friends or much money. The wretched place has not evolved much, so cable television was also a thing of the light years future. But all was not lost. “Eureka!!!” He shouted whenever he heard the babbling from the Spanish programs on the AM band.
He had his college friends. That was enough for him. He didn’t bother with friends from the community. He had accepted his mother’s dictates that it’s better to keep to self than to mingle with inbreeds and dull heads.
Chapter 2
Kevin, John’s older brother had just returned from a five day trip to the city. He was a welder by profession and he often traveled to sites around the country for work. Kevin had been the alpha male in the family since their dad left. He always felt that the responsibility has been bestowed onto him to look after his mom and his younger siblings. Kevin had taught him a whole lot, from riding a bike to driving a car. He had also been the one to run to John’s defense in a fight or warned off the bullies that took it as a game to grub his bald head which he mostly wore as a child.
As John dusted the bedside table, something caught his interest. So he bent for a closer look at what had appeared to be blood and a piece of torn finger nail. Indeed it was the first inkling that could possibly lead to solving the hideous murder of the fifty-five years old widow…
“Hey bro!” Kevin greeted John.
Which was rather a surprise to him as he did not see when he entered the porch, as he was much busy playing the protagonist in the mystery novel he had in his hand.
“Yow!!” He shouted and embraced him with a warm sincerity as if he had just gotten home from six months of war.
“How have you been Kevin?” John asked.
“You know little bro, same old slavery, just trying to get my money right. How about you, how was school?”
“School has always been school, stressful. But I’m here now, for the entire summer a
ctually. The most I can look forward to are these riveting mystery novels, counting cars as they pass and watching the evening sunset above the hills”
“Well since you will be here all summer.” Kevin urged, “We will have to find you a little girlfriend for the time being.”
“Nahh! I don’t think that is necessary Kevin, these girls aren’t exactly my type, to be honest.” He bluntly stated with a scornful gesture to his face.
“Well if you say so, but I’m going to Mahogany Hall tonight. One of our cousins, Andrew Steelburg is having a little party at his corner store. We can both go if you would like.”
“Nahh I’ll pass, am fine really!”
“Suit yourself.” He added and walked into the living room in search of his mother to greet her with the embrace she had long been waiting for.
Mahogany Hall was a community twenty minutes by walk from the gateway by the road. It was relatively small in population and the houses were either made of wood or concrete blocks, mostly having two or three bedrooms on a nice patio, located close enough to the road to feel the stretching vibration of the windows and furniture when a truck passed by.
John may have heard that he had family members there but wasn’t at all interested in the likes of them. He held his head high in condescension and walked the thin line of being a proud Steelburg and was just another stuck-up lad of the generation of want to be Joneses.
The mid-day slowly approached the evening with silent wind and the chirp of yellow belly birds singing, and dancing into tree houses after a productive day of feeding and dispersing.
John had almost completed the investigation in the homicide case and had found two main suspects in the killing of the wife of the late business man Anthony Young. One was believed to be the first son of Mr. Young, who would have had a motive to kill her since he was the default owner of the multimillion dollar estate if the wife was out of the picture. The other suspect was a well-known hoodlum who had a series of related robberies on his criminal record. He was out on bail for the attempted murder of a detective connected to the area two police division.
He already knew from clues, which one was the killer, and that meant for him, the suspense and the thriller was done, so no point in seeing the last blank page. As the boredom started to overwhelm, John started to contemplate the harm in going to the party his brother told him about earlier. At least it was something to pass the time and would be much more eventful than listening to the hums of crickets and fireflies. With a deep sigh, followed by a smirk on his face, it was enough to tell that he had made up his mind to attend the party that night.
The sunset faded and the darkness consumed the day. The clock didn’t lie as it struck quarter to seven. It was also winning the race against John to finish dressing. The blue jeans fitted his brown Sperry Top Sides neatly to a ‘T’. As he reached the last button to the collar of the pink and white Ralf Lauren topside. He paused and stared into the mirror. He looked into the eyes of the man in front of him with a fierce gaze and searched the bottom of his soul as if the man had stolen his last piece of dignity and identity of what defined him as a man.
“Are you ready?” Kevin pushed his room door open and asked him with a smirk that slightly turned into a jeer. It was something different for him to see his little brother getting dress for an event that didn’t have a church as the venue or people purporting to be on a mission for Christ.
“Yes I am ready.” He affirmed, “Let’s do this!”
“Alright then, it’s going to be an awesome night!” Kevin supported and they both gathered their cell phones, money and headed out to the party.
They arrived at the house topside the road that had the little shop on the same patio. There were a few people seated on the grass yard, but it appeared as if the party hasn’t started as yet. The music wasn’t loud enough, but the boom boxes sung clearly the classical Reggae music which usually commenced a party.
Kevin went into the house to greet his cousin, while John remained on the patio closer to the road. He had preferred to remain isolated. Besides, he is no more than a stranger to the family and the rest of the people there. In addition, he didn’t want at any instance, to come across as an intruder. His self-consciousness had started to get the better of him and he felt a slight loss of composure which gave him an impulse to get a beer from the bar within the store.
“Hello!” He raised his voice over the music to get the attention of the bartender who was otherwise distracted or more so lingering in a cloud of sad memory.
“Yes,” She looked up with a sudden fright, “How may I help you?” She caught his eyes, which if she had known would have been avoided, as she had just made yet the biggest mistake of her life.
Suddenly the ground between them had shifted from beneath their feet and his eyes were only three inches away from hers. Steadily he searched the depths of her soul. Only to see blurred silhouettes of tattered emotions and secrets concealed within a temple with walls of a light brown paint that screamed eighteen years of life’s indifferent journey. It is clear that she had suffered recent pain, and the scars of the wounds have not fully healed. Nevertheless, he could see the majesty of this woman that a queen would crave for. If one should remove the thorns and water the petals, she would become the new forbidden tree in the Garden of Eden that only God desired to eat from, and whosoever else tasted the wine from her lips would have sinned and be due to eternal condemnation. However, his heart was ready to be smelted, and it did not matter if his flesh would be scorch with the flames of hell. He wanted to sin, he wanted the last drop of her wine to touch his tongue before he gasped for the last breath as his temple withers away in the sour wind that the desert of fire brings.
“May I have a Dragon Stout please?” He asked. Usually he would have asked for a lighter beer. He didn’t fancy drinking too much alcohol. He never saw the point or the need to get drunk then have to throw up dinner over it. But tonight has taken on a sudden and unexpected turn which was enough to make a sixty year old virgin priest fornicate in a confession booth.
“What’s your name?” John asked in an attempt to break the tension and open the way for the well needed and equally desired conversation.
“I am Karla.” She responded as she fetched the cold beer from the refrigerator, “And what’s yours?” She asked as she opened the bottle and handed it to him, avoiding every attempt of his second hypnosis.
She didn’t think it was right for a girl to have libidos straight down to her wet panties at first glance, and certainly she didn’t want him to see her tipping on her toes and clinching her legs a second time, especially when his focus was less oriented on the eyes, and more on her physique to paint a permanent picture in his mind.
“My name is John. That’s a cute name.” He replied with a short smile and a twitch. “And what’s your last name Karla?” He went on.
“Are you related to Kevin by any chance?” She avoided the question by asking, “You resemble him quite a lot…”
“Maybe I am related to him.” He responded, “Why do you ask, are you by any chance his girlfriend?”
She laughed at his response. That’s the first time he saw her laugh, and it was like drinking coffee under the Christmas tree while listening to the season’s carols.
“Kevin is my cousin.” She affirmed “So your answer is a definite no, he is not my boyfriend!”
He hastily took a sip of the stout in his hand, but it was as if his body was a dam that haven’t had rain for a decade, and it would take more than a drizzle to return life to the habitat. He took another huge swallow of the alcohol, however it was not sudden enough to reduce his palpitation and return steady ground under his feet. A shock of disappointment, disbelief and contempt fluctuated through his spinal cord, which stimulated just about every sensory neuron in his body. He couldn’t run. There wasn’t the adrenaline for that. Besides, the tectonic shifts under his shattered world would proclaim more euphuism to the force of gravity. The first gist of the tipsy sensat
ion from the alcohol had just touched his marrow and boosted his confidence enough to prolong the conversation under a moderate tone and eloquence.
“Wow! somehow it’s hard to believe that you and Kevin are related…how close of a cousin are you?” He asked. Somehow, he wished he could have altered his resemblance to his brother. At that point he preferred not having a brother. But it had become clear without words that the two were cousins.
“You are his brother, huh?” She asked for confirmation.
“Yes, we are brothers.” John opened with a hard look and steady eyes.
“Okay then,” Came out long and subtle.
The disappointment was mutual but it wasn’t strong enough to make wet and cold the sparkling sensation that was gently and slowly devouring every space inside and around the temple of the blue-bloods.
“It doesn’t change anything.” He uttered, took two steps back with his gaze fixed on her then turned around and walked out of the store.
More people started showing up at the party. It was even more uncomfortable than when he had just arrived. He wanted to leave as it was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain his composure and suffice simple thoughts over the constant chattering and increasing loud Reggae music.
He drank the last of the stout and edged to leave, but to the right of him he saw two graves on the patio and went to seek composure in its isolation.
As he sat by the head stone he found enormous fascination with the shrubs that grew wild by the graveside, and how marvelous it was that these little life forms could grow and blossom in between the stones that sheltered the earth like armor.
“That’s my father’s grave.” The voice above him declared.
John read the note on the headstone.
“R.I.P Karl Steelburg. Gone too soon but not forgotten.”
“I am sorry. What happened?” He asked and offered a seat.