I watched TV for the rest of the day. I worried about going to school tomorrow. I don’t think Dave is going to leave me alone. Maybe I can hide from him at lunch and recess. The phone rang once then stopped and rang again. It is my Mom’s secret way to call, so I knew it is her calling. “Hi, Mom, what’s up?”
“Honey, I’m going to be late getting home. You’ll have to take care of dinner yourself. Don’t make too big a mess in the kitchen. Get to bed on time. I’ll give you a kiss when I get home. Oh, I called your teacher, and she said she will keep an eye out for trouble between you and Dave. Goodnight, Honey.” The phone clicked as she hung up.
The next day of school, Dave started to pick on me again. When I tried to get away, he started to hit me and pushed me down to the ground. I got beat pretty bad until the principal broke up the fight.
The principal had us wait in the office while he called our parents and told them what happened. Dave’s mother came first. I heard her hollering at Dave, “I told you not to start any more fights. Wait until your father gets home tonight.”
My mother arrived a little while later. “Sorry, Honey, I had a lady under the dryer and couldn’t leave. Oh my, are you okay? Your face is pretty bruised, and you have a shiner coming in.”
“It hurts, but I’m fine. Can we go home?”
“No. I need to talk with the principal.” She stood and banged on his door. The door opened, and she immediately launched into him, “I called yesterday and warned his teacher about that bully. Why wasn’t he being watched, and how is that bully being punished?”
“Mrs. Embers, I was not aware of your call, but even if I was, we cannot keep an eye on every child every minute. As far as punishments go, I have decided to let this slide with just a warning to your son; however, if he gets in any more fights, I will suspend him.”
“Suspend him? My son does not start fights. I meant the other boy.”
“Mrs. Embers, it is between the school and his parents you have no voice in the matter.” After their exchange, we left.
After we got home, my mother had a talk with me, “Nathan, did you hit him first?” I said no. “Okay, you don’t start fights. How badly did you hurt him?” I told her I didn’t hit him. “What? You didn’t fight back. Well, that’s not right. My son is not a coward. Nathan, you have to stand up to bullies. If you don’t draw a line, they will keep pushing you and pushing you. Next time he might bully someone else, and then it would be your fault for not stopping him. You have to fight. Winning or losing is not the point. Standing tall is the point. Promise me if this Dave starts a fight again, you’ll fight back as hard as you can.”
“Mom, you’re telling me to fight him?”
“No, I’m saying you stand up to him. Hit him just as hard as he hits you. Make him pay a price, so he thinks twice the next time he tries to bully someone.”
“What if he beats me up again?”
“As long as you fight back and don’t run away, you will make me proud.”
“I don’t know. Dave hits pretty hard.”
“Pain doesn’t matter. What was it the character, Dr. Spock, from Star Trek said?”
I rolled my eyes a bit, “You mean Mr. Spock? He said, ‘Pain is a thing of the mind. The mind can be controlled.’”
“Exactly The pain is of no matter. Do you think his fists can hurt you worse than your migraines?” My mother looked straight at me, waiting for an answer.
“No. Nothing has ever come close.”
“Nathan, you can’t be afraid of doing what’s right because you may get hurt. My son is not a coward.” My mother put her arm around me and gave me a little squeeze. “Let me tell you a story. The Spartans of ancient Greece, one of their city-states was called Sparta. The boys of Sparta, from an early age, were taught how to fight and to stand against their enemies. The mothers of that city would say to their sons before they went to war ‘Return to me with your shield or on it’;” she looked at me intently. “Do you know what it means?” I shook my head. “It means fight and don’t give up, with your shield, or die fighting as best you can, on your shield.”
I grudgingly said, “Okay, Mom. I will fight back, but he really does hit hard.”
What a crappy memory of a crappy day. Why did that day come to mind? I yawned and stretched, then settled myself down to sleep. The fact is I don’t think I could stay awake if I wanted to.
Morning came as morning does. I made ready for the day and set off to pick up Mo at John’s house. It is time she returned to school, and I returned to my low-wage couple of hours a day job at the crosswalk.
I rang the bell at John’s house. “Good to see you, Nate. Come on in. Any news?”
“Sorry, John, I don’t have time. I’m heading over to the hospital after dropping Moiraine off at school. I’ll give you an update after I talk to the doctors. Is Mo ready?” I looked at the time on my phone, we would barely make it.
“Hi Daddy,” came from Moiraine’s head as she peaked around her grandfather’s leg. “Do I have to go to school today?”
“Yes, you do. Your mother would give me the rough side of her tongue if I kept you out of school any longer. Besides, I’m sure, your friends and teacher miss you.”
“Okay, Dad. Grandpa, huggies kissies.” John stooped to give Moiraine an extra-long hug and kiss.
We are off to her school. The drive is quiet. I’ve had a great many quiet drives lately. I’d rather have Char miffed at me and telling me off than this non-noise.
We arrived at the corner where I help children cross to school. There piled about waist high are flowers, candles, balloons, a few stuffed animals, some posters with well wishes, and an array of colorings I could only take as portraits of my wife. I almost broke down right there. Every child at the coroner said a few words to Moiraine. A couple of mothers gave Mo hugs. One father put his hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. I am touched by the display of support from a gentleman I saw every day yet had never shared a conversation with.
As I crossed the first group to the opposite corner, I noticed the spot where Charlene’s blood had been washed clean. One clean patch in an otherwise dirty blacktop is a metaphor of my life and Charlene’s, at least until Moiraine came a calling. Walking down from the school is the Principal, Ms. Canon, and another crossing guard.
“Mr. Embers, we need to talk,” came from Ms. Canon. “Would you please follow me?” She motioned for the other crossing guard to take over.
I followed her up to the school administration building and back into her office. “Have a seat, Mr. Embers.” I haven’t been called to the principal’s office since I was in grade school. I’m glad they don’t have the paddles anymore.
“What’s the problem? I called in yesterday and arranged for a sub to cover my shifts.”
“No. It has nothing to do with your absence yesterday. Why no one expected you to work yesterday. In fact, I am surprised you came to work today. Let me say we are so sorry about the altercation with your wife yesterday. Tell me, how is she doing?”
“It was not an altercation as you put it.” Why do people insist on using polite words for gritty reality? “She was gunned down in the street by a crazed madman,” I took a breath and calmed down a bit. “The last I heard she was hanging on. I will be leaving for the hospital shortly after we are through here. I will let you know if anything changes.”
“Well, we all hope and pray she will be on the road to recovery soon. The kids miss her terribly.”
“Yes, I was touched by the shrine that was erected at the corner for her. I know she loves the kids as much as they love her.”
“There is no easy way to say this, Mr. Embers,” Ms. Canon looked quite upset over what she is about to say.
“I’ve found straight out works best. Pull the bandage off quickly as it were.” My gut didn’t like the way this is going.
“The district has instructed me to give you notice. You are no longer to be the crossing guard here at Greentree Elementary or anywhere else in t
he district,” Ms. Canon is visibly shaken. I think she’s taking this harder than I am.
This doesn’t surprise me. In fact, I should have seen it coming. “Can you tell me why?” She pulled out a couple of sheets of paper from the top drawer of her desk and handed them to me. They are copies of a letter and some photographs. The pictures are of three children who attend school here at Greentree Elementary. I recognized each one.
To the staff and parents of Greentree Elementary School. So long as Nathan Embers works in or around your school, no child is safe. If I see him there on the grounds or anywhere within a two-block radius of the school, a child dies the next day in front of their friends. The second time I see him there on the grounds or anywhere within a two-block radius, two children will die the next day in front of their friends. I think you can figure out the math of this word problem. If you close the school or alter the children’s schedule in any way, I will strike them down in their homes. The streets will run red with the blood of the innocents if I am not obeyed. To show my noble intentions, no child will die this week, but if you don’t take this warning seriously, the children will pay. Please inform Mr. Nathan Embers he is not to run or hide from me. The day of his reckoning is coming. The manner of his death is yet to be determined. Please tell him the police can’t help him. If he goes to the police for help or protection, it will only get cops killed. Tell him when the time comes, he must face me like a man and not like a coward. To prove to you this letter is in fact from me and not some hoax I have placed my thumbprint at the bottom of the page. Yours Truly, Mark Galos. Have a nice day.”
I crushed the letter in my hand as I finished reading it. I let the paper fall to the ground. It is an impotent act of defiance. It is all I have been since that night at the store. Impotent. The son-of-a-bitch. It’s not evil enough he came after me at the crosswalk; now, he will come after kids or cops if I don’t wait around for him to kill me. What am I going to do? What can I do? Too damn little is what I can do. “I assume since this is a copy the police have been called and they confirmed this letter is indeed from Mark Galos.”
“Yes, they confirmed it’s from him. They asked us not to inform the parents. They are afraid he will keep his promise. I have to ask you not to tell anyone. I’m also to tell you the police want you to contact them as soon as possible. They are not taking any chances about Mark Galos watching you, so they want you to call them at this number.” Ms. Canon handed me a business card listing Detective Frank Hawkins.
“How am I to get Moiraine to school if I can’t come within two blocks?”
“We have made arrangements to have a special services bus to pick her up and drop her off.” Ms. Canon stood up and held out her hand. “I’m sure you understand I would like you to leave as soon as possible. If he is watching you, I don’t want to antagonize him. I’ll pull Moiraine out of class and tell her she is taking a bus from now on.”
I shook Ms. Canon’s hand and started to leave her office.
“Mr. Embers, I’m sorry, but I need the vest, whistle, and stop sign back.” I removed the vestments of my office and placed them on her desk. All the while, the opening song to the TV show Branded played in the background of my thoughts.
“…Branded, scorned as the one who ran. What do you do when you’re branded, and you know you’re a man…”
How well the song echoes my feelings. I left Ms. Canon’s office without further delay. In my retreat, I took a detour to the teacher’s lounge. They have a vending machine there, and I needed a Diet Pepsi. I put a dollar in the machine. It came back out. Crap! It’s my only single. I tried in vain again. Crap, I want one in the worst way. It’s comforting to have the cold feel of the can in my hand, the crisp sound of the pop-top as it would open, and the tingle as it went down my throat. I need one right now. I need something normal right now. I tried reversing the creases. No luck. I tried rubbing it on the edge of a table. No good. Okay, I’ll give it one more try. I put the dollar into the machine. Wait, I hear it whirling and clicking then silence. My dollar came back out.
I screamed at the universe, “Okay, God. Come down here and fight me fair!” I pounded my head against the vending machine. In my field of view, as my head rested against the vending machine, there appeared a delicate French manicured hand with a dollar bill in it.
“Give this one a try.”
I swapped my dollar for the one before my eyes. I put it in and presto-change-o my Diet Pepsi was spit out of the machine. “Thank you, Ms.” I turned, and no one is there. Strange, wait a minute I know that hand, the tow truck driver. She must have a child enrolled here.
I popped the can and chugged the Diet Pepsi until it was gone. It burned so joyfully as it went down. “Alrighty then,” I said to no one in particular. With the minor victory, I marched out of the school.
I crossed the corner I used to guard and stood looking at the improvised shrine to my Charlene. It is strange. It is like I can feel their well wishes for my wife. It is like the buzzing you hear when you walk close to high power lines, but beyond hearing it, it is more like remembering hearing it. While I was there, a young boy came running for the light. He is not going to make it. I threw out my arm, stooped a little, and grabbed him as he would have entered the crosswalk.
“I’m late, I have to cross.”
“Timmy, right?” of course I am right. “Hold on. There will be another light in a minute. You could have gotten hurt.” Timmy looked up at me, and the expression of recognition came to his face.
“You’re the crossing guard. Where’s your sign and stuff?”
“I am not the crossing guard anymore.” I’m not anything anymore. Like a ship, without a rudder, I am adrift with no course.
“You helped Mrs. E, didn’t you? Is she going to be okay? This picture here,” he pointed to a picture of someone in a classroom overlooking children at work, “I drew it to help her feel better.” Breathe Timmy breathe. “She’s pretty. If she weren’t married, I would marry her.” I couldn’t help but smile at the statement.
“My heart hopes she will recover too. Get ready the signal is about to change. And yes, you are right, she is pretty. I think I would try to marry her too if she weren’t already married. Okay, it’s green. I’ll cross with you.” “It is my last and unofficial crossing there at Greentree Elementary.” It makes me feel a little sad this part of my life is over. The sense of satisfaction I have looking over the children at this crossing is lost. With Timmy’s picture in hand, I headed back to my car. Tapping the dashboard, I said, “Come on, Old Girl. We have the wife to visit.” Off I went.
I walked into my wife’s room. John is there talking quietly to his daughter. John looks worse; the strain is starting to affect him. I love Char with all my heart, but I can’t imagine the torment John is going through. A man should not have to contemplate outliving his child. I stepped back out to give him a few moments more. As I turned to walk down to the waiting room to kill some time, Dr. Hazer came walking up.
“Mr. Embers, I’m glad you are here. This will save you from getting an impersonal phone call.” My heart sank. A welling of emotions came pouring up. I suppressed everything and steadied myself. “I have the results of the CT, and it’s worse than I feared. I’m afraid your wife suffered a stroke while she was in surgery. It affected some key areas of her brain. I’m sorry to tell you this, but it is only a matter of time. All we can do is make her comfortable.”
“I’ve heard of new drugs which are supposed to help stroke victims. What about one of those. If our insurance coverage is a problem, I’ll pay any price. I’ll cover any charge.”
“Money is not the problem, Mr. Embers. It’s too late for those drugs. Those drugs must be administered within a few hours of the onset of a stroke. The parts of her brain which were cut off by the stroke have already died. It’s not something we can fix. For all intents and purposes she is already dead; her body just doesn’t know it yet,” Dr. Hazer said all this with pain in his voice, but also with the practice of so
meone who has said these words to others.
“Did you tell her father yet?” I could not look at Dr. Hazer in the eye. I looked down at my right hand instead. It is the one I used to plug the hole in her heart. I could see my wife’s blood. Her blood is on my hands. I had killed her as sure as if I had pulled the trigger myself. Out, damned spot! Out I say!
“No. I can explain it to him if you want.”
“It should come from me. How long does Char have?”
“It’s not an exact science. She could pass away in a few days or a few weeks. No more than four weeks at the outside. Tell me, is your wife a strong woman?”
“She is herculean.”
“I would say you have some time before she goes. There will be changes which will tell us when she is close.”
“I would like to take her home. I know she would rather be there surrounded by family than here in a cold hospital.”
“Moving her might hasten her death, or she may even die as she is being transported.”
“Does it matter? Home and with family is what matters.”
“Very well, I will sign an order she is to be released to hospice care. I had a hunch it would be your request. Here are the representative’s name and the number to Geneva’s Hospice. They can help you with all the forms and arrange for transport.” Dr. Hazer handed me a card and pamphlet to explain hospice care. “I hope you and your family will never need my services again,” he stretched out his hand. I shook it. A fine firm handshake and warm too. I thought all doctors soaked their hands in ice water. Dr. Hazer took a few steps away, paused for a moment, turned around, and walked back to me. “During our training to become doctors, they tell us we need to be detached from our patients, objective. I failed that part of my training. Mr. Embers, Nathan. May I call you Nathan?” I nodded. “Nathan, I know I am supposed to be the spokesman for reason and science, but I want you to know I believe this is a wondrous universe we live in. There are many unexplained phenomena, things which defy logic, and there are miracles. My own hands have done things in the operating room, which are beyond my skill. All my training and experience tells me your wife is going to die, but I hope, against all reason, she will be one of those miracles.” As we shook hands again, Dr. Hazer leaned in and whispered, “By the way, I liked the way you told doctor self-righteous-pompous-ass off.”
The Forging Page 14