Live it Again

by Geoff North

  The first drag tickled his throat and the taste was magical. The second one was better. He felt the buzz in the ends of his fingers and in the back of his brain after an impossibly long third haul. Ashes fell into his lap and he saw the stop sign through a cloud of blue, exhaled smoke. Hugh slammed down on the brake pedal so hard his seat belt caught against his shoulder.

  Good car, much more responsive than that old clunker.

  The Audi came to an obedient halt seven feet before the stop sign. Hugh took another healthy drag and watched the semi approach from the left hand side. It was easy to hear its mass of tires running down the wet highway with his window open.

  Closer, closer. One more puff.

  His cell phone began to vibrate in his coat pocket.

  The truck thundered by in a spray of dirty grey sleet. FENCO FUEL in yellow and orange introduced itself once again for a half second and was gone.

  The cigarette was done; Hugh’s fingers were starting to burn where the cherry had begun to eat the filter. He tossed it out the window and sighed with relief.

  “Now I’ve quit smoking.”

  He answered the phone.

  Chapter 29

  “Where are you, Hugh? Please get home!”

  “Cathy? -Are you crying? What’s happened?”

  “It’s your brother.”

  Hugh was stunned. So much for not being able to see the future and it had only started ten seconds ago.

  Talk about rude awakenings.

  “Donald?”

  “No, Hugh…I’m so sorry…Gordo’s died.”

  ***

  Cathy had agreed to stay at her mother-in-law’s house for the night. Marion Nance was, naturally, devastated by the news of her son losing his six-month long battle with lung cancer. No one knew he was even sick.

  Hugh was still in his study past midnight, clicking through the too-small file of family photos with Gordo stored on his computer. There were only seven pictures. He wished Cathy were with him. Staying home alone without her after another death in the family was almost too much to bear. It reminded him too much of Ben. This didn’t hurt half as much, but the guilt was just as bad, maybe worse.

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Hugh wasn’t alone this time. His kids were still here. He looked up at his son and offered a weak smile. “It’s hard losing someone, isn’t it?”

  Colton sat in the chair opposite his father’s desk. His face was pale and there were patches of pink around his eyes. “I only met Uncle Gordon a few times. I guess it’s a lot harder on you.”

  “Yeah, it’s hard on everyone.”

  “Did you love him, dad?”

  Of course I loved him. He was my brother. Blood is thicker than water. Family is forever.

  “No.”

  Colton’s eyes began to water up. It wasn’t the nicest thing to say to a kid, but Hugh wasn’t going to sugar coat it for him. “I should’ve loved him…I could have loved him.”

  “What happened between the two of you? I know me and Julie fight a lot but I couldn’t imagine not talking to her for years and years at a time.”

  “Not all that much, really. He drew in some of my comic books, I pissed on his bed--you know, the normal sibling rivalry stuff.”

  Colton rubbed his cheeks dry and laughed. “You guys were pretty hard core in the old days.”

  “Yeah, I guess we were.” Hugh turned the monitor around. “Take a look at these.” Colton leaned forward and looked at the pictures with his dad. “This was one Sunday up at Clear Lake.” Two shirtless boys with crew cuts grinned back in grainy black and white; the taller, dark-haired one held a fishing rod, the other, still missing a few adult teeth on top was struggling with a fat fish in his skinny arms.

  “Is that before you peed in his bed?”

  “Long before.” Hugh clicked to the next image. Gordo caught off guard tying his shoe tightly just before a track event.

  “Are those shorts? They look more like underwear!”

  “Hey, it was the seventies.”

  They looked through the rest, Colton asked questions and Hugh answered.

  What a great kid, trying to make me feel better by talking about things. And it’s working.

  “I don’t remember too much about Uncle Gordo,” Colton said after they were finished. “Just that silly song he always used to sing.”

  “What song is that?”

  “The one about not messing with big Bobby McFee. You ever hear him sing it?”

  “Big Bobby McBee. How could I have forgotten?” Hugh opened his music file and scrolled over his vast selection of MP3s. He double-clicked on the song in question. It had been sitting on his hard drive for years but he hadn’t heard it since he was a kid.

  They listened for half a minute and Colton started to nod his head when the chorus started.

  -Big Bobby McBee was a mean sonna bitch- a mountain of a man with soccer balls for fists- and shit-kicking shoes that was bigger than canoes-

  Gordo’s theme song.

  -Don’t go hangin’ round town when the big man wears a frown-

  Hugh’s eyes began to get wet; he bit down on his lip.

  -‘cause he’ll surely cut you down-

  Hugh started to cry as the song played on.

  -You’re gonna wish that you had refused, once you’re beaten, bashed and bruised-

  The Voice in the Brown had revealed his identity. Hugh started to sing the rest out loud, word for terrible word, and Colton leaned back, afraid old dad might be losing his marbles.

  -So you listen what I say, don’t go makin’ Bobby’s day, best to just stay away-

  The song ended and Hugh quit singing. He exited the player before the tune could start again.

  “What was that all about, dad?”

  The Voice had said it looked I was beaten, bashed, and bruised…just after the car accident.

  “You ever try and recall a certain song, but another one keeps playing in your head instead?”

  “All the time,” Colton answered. “There’s a cool rock song on the radio I heard a few days ago, but I can’t get this dumb country one outta my head when I go to remember it.”

  Hugh nodded. “That’s what happened to me. I just remembered the right song.”

  Colton came around the desk and hugged his father. “I’m sorry you lost your brother,” he whispered.

  “Me too, but everything’s going to be alright now.” It was the type of promise parents sometimes made to cheer their kids up. It may have been an empty promise for Colton, but it was a wonderful new feeling for Hugh. Not knowing what lay ahead felt just fine.

  Sometimes life was bad, at other times it could be good.

  Hugh Nance had found enough good to try it twice.

  Chapter 30

  Brown.

  “Took you long enough to get back here.”

  The old man looked down at his fingers. They were wrinkled; the knuckles knobby and misshapen with arthritis. At least they didn’t ache anymore, but still, he’d hoped he would’ve looked a bit younger.

  “Don’t worry about those,” the Voice in the Brown continued. “You lived to be ninety-one years old. It will take some time before you get used to the idea of looking any way you want.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell us you had cancer?”

  “What for? We didn’t talk on a regular basis, did we? Why would I call you out of the blue and tell you I had something terminal? I didn’t need your pity.”

  “You should’ve told mom.” Gordo was silent. Hugh had him there. “Sorry, I guess that wasn’t called for. Why didn’t you tell me it was you? What was all the secrecy about?”

  “I didn’t want you to live your life again knowing what was going to happen to me. Shit, you might have tried being my buddy and made me quit smoking.”

  There was a long pause. Hugh looked at his pale blue hospital pajamas and bare feet. It would be nice to change into a pair of jeans. “Sorry for breaking your trophies and pissing on your bed.”
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  “No problem, I got over it.”

  Hugh chuckled. No apology for the ruined comic books. The asshole couldn’t even say he was sorry in the afterlife. “I want to see my wife now.”

  “And she wants to see you too, her and about a hundred other people you knew and loved. They’re all waiting.”

  The brown all around started to change; it faded to a deep orange, then to a golden yellow, the color of wheat. A blue sky appeared above spotted with putty-white clouds.

  Gordo was beside him and took his hand. He was young and handsome. His eyes were beautiful. “Come on, dummy. Don’t just stand there.”

  A dog barked.

  Hugh stumbled after him, his legs still ancient and feeble, but a tingling had started to course through them, throughout his entire body. It was waking up again. “Wait! Why did you stay here? Why didn’t you go ahead years ago?”

  “Because you’re my brother, and I had to look out for you.”

  ***

  “What did you get?” Little Gordo asked.

  “A whole bunch of cool stuff. Check this out.” Little Hugh climbed out of bed and plopped down into a litter of wrapping paper. He pushed a clear blue plastic car along the cold floorboards until sparks lit up inside. It made a wonderful whirring noise.

  “I got one too! It’s red!”

  Hugh’s face beamed in the pale aqua light. “Let’s go downstairs and check out the Christmas tree.”

  They snuck down the steps in complete darkness and tiptoed through the kitchen.

  “Don’t step on the cat,” Hugh whispered, sidestepping around Fred.

  Their cousin, Michael Cooden was waiting for them at the entrance to the living room. The soft glow of multi-colored tree lights blinked off and on against the wall behind him.

  “Where have you been all these years?” Hugh asked.

  The curly-haired boy smiled. “Here, there…everywhere.”

  Gordo cuffed him softly on the shoulder. “Well what are you doin’ just standing there like a tool for?”

  The boy’s eyes widened fearfully and he raised a single finger to his lips to keep his cousin quiet. He pointed into the living room. “I don’t wanna wake him up.”

  Hugh peeked around the corner and saw his father sleeping in the armchair beside the fireplace. There was a mild smell of wood smoke and Satsuma oranges in the air. The old man was snoring. A thousand gifts waited beneath the tree in the other corner.

  Gordo started in and Hugh followed. Michael hung back and mewled like a new born kitten. “What about Uncle Steve?”

  This was the happiest morning of my life, and I had a lot of them. I’m going to meet Cathy this afternoon at a little open-air restaurant on the Dominican coast. It was our favorite. And this evening I’m going down to the old dugout with Colonel and watch the prairie sun set…maybe smoke a big fat cigarette.

  “Fuck him,” Gordo answered. “He’s not my uncle. Let’s go open our presents.”

  All three boys giggled and dove in.

  The End

  Thank you for reading Live it Again. Visit my website to see what I’m working on next.

  www.geoffnorth.com

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