Thursday, May 6, 2010
Alive longer than I thought
Did I say 3 months? Hell, it's been 5! My first blog in 2010! I was working on Life is Warm & Buttery through February, that's where the 3 months came from. Oh well, I'm back!
Still Alive
Oh yes, still alive. It's been 3 months but feels longer. Actually it feels almost exactly like 3 months now that I consider it. Maybe give or take a day.
Anyway whatever audience may care, I'm returning to my novel. I want to start my chapters here but I haven't done that before. The novel, Desert Trees, is much more painstaking than what I normally consider on a work night. It's more of a 6-10 hour writing session type stuff. But I'm trying to adjust to daily writing. I've been out but I'm coming back.
Chapter 29 of Desert Trees coming soon, like within a week or two. I'll try it out in this forum and see how it turns out.
Anyway whatever audience may care, I'm returning to my novel. I want to start my chapters here but I haven't done that before. The novel, Desert Trees, is much more painstaking than what I normally consider on a work night. It's more of a 6-10 hour writing session type stuff. But I'm trying to adjust to daily writing. I've been out but I'm coming back.
Chapter 29 of Desert Trees coming soon, like within a week or two. I'll try it out in this forum and see how it turns out.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
CORK POPPING
All right! My first thoughts are that this is waaaaaaaay too short. I especially dislike the hurry of chapters 13 & 14. But this is supposed to be a short story per the project for which it's written (UMSL Creative Writing Master's program application).
Will I expand this into a novel? Quite possibly. I have to finish my master project Desert Trees first. I'm hoping that to be done in 2010, at least that's my resolution.
Aside from the brevity I'm pretty satisfied as someone who hasn't read it all together yet. That's the next step, organizing and polishing. The final result will be republished here.
That's it. Time to dwell on the story as a whole now. Thanks if you've been following along!
Will I expand this into a novel? Quite possibly. I have to finish my master project Desert Trees first. I'm hoping that to be done in 2010, at least that's my resolution.
Aside from the brevity I'm pretty satisfied as someone who hasn't read it all together yet. That's the next step, organizing and polishing. The final result will be republished here.
That's it. Time to dwell on the story as a whole now. Thanks if you've been following along!
LIW&B Prologue
The fat man lay in bed nauseous and short of breath. He was alone in the room as he would prefer it, thinking he was fortunate rather than foul. Other patients had to be considered as well as the faculty. The fat man couldn't smell his own yellow jaundiced skin.
He had been unattended since lunch hours ago. The fat man had been constipated for days so he could wait. But he needed to get up from his bed. Sixteen hours in bed proved too much for even this boorish creature. The mammoth struggled to grab the hanger bar and get a firm grip then struggled more to lift himself high enough to move his waist. He tastes the sizzling sweetness of bourbon in the back of his throat and wishes he had a bottle to guzzle. He always tastes this after such a struggle.
When his feet touch the ground the fat man almost tumbles stupidly to the floor. He catches the guest chair and steadied himself, saving any commotion or shame. The fat man had always been fat but never so obese to be unbalanced. His liver was failing. There wasn't much time left, certainly not much out of pain. The fat man tells himself he knows this, but he still refuses to die. He's too young to die. It seems like just yesterday he had a son.
The fat man realized he's got nowhere to go. If the faculty wasn't checking on him they sure as hell don't want him bothering them. And walking is just too hard. His massive stomach boiled with acid sending shivers and smoke through his veins. He wished he could vomit but he couldn't. The fat man grabbed the guest chair and rested his body on top of the armrests since he couldn't squeeze between them.
The fat closed his eyes and breathed quickly, but soon the breathing slowed. The room went back to complete silence. The only sounds came from the adjoining room. The fat man decided to listen.
It was a family, a father and son and an old aunt or grandmother from what he could tell. He listened hard and damned any passing orderly while he tried. The conversation was intriguing from a world he once dreamed to share.
The father had a mission to care for his son. His life counted in days and the boy had no one else. Enter the old woman that cussed and gristled so loud it brought a smile to the fat man's pea colored cheeks. The fat man wanted badly to hobble next door and meet them all.
The fat man adored the show he was hearing. Tragedy, Comedy, Death, Love all moved with grace and respect, reality presented on a dull, worn platter serving its millionth meal. It was family, defined and glorious, strength in which the fat man never believed.
But he tried to find it. He tried to find it for his son. He cast his infant son into a sea of humanity and gave his best prayer to find a life preserver his father couldn't throw. Dreams of drowned children tormented the fat man forever, but he believed he did the right thing. The fat man believed his child had a better chance of survival with anyone besides himself.
Sitting in the lonely hospital room, the fat man listened to the talk of a family in the room next door. He laughed and cried like any great play. He thought about his past mistakes and the fleeting thievery of time.
The fat man would soon be dead. Hearing the casual speak of family lifted his despair of that haunting afternoon twelve years earlier. If his son found such love the fat man could die content. He wanted to walk over and meet them but he didn't.
Different demons pushed and prodded the fat man. A different road he chose to walk. He sat leaning on the chair in the hospital room, sweating from the effort to stand. The fat man heard his son's name and discarded it as misunderstood, impossible to be the answer to his prayer. His condition improved and he lived a bit longer, but the episode plagued him until the end.
The fat man thought about the child named Happy a lot in his last year. He thought of all that could be kind and gentle and died full of piercing regret.
He had been unattended since lunch hours ago. The fat man had been constipated for days so he could wait. But he needed to get up from his bed. Sixteen hours in bed proved too much for even this boorish creature. The mammoth struggled to grab the hanger bar and get a firm grip then struggled more to lift himself high enough to move his waist. He tastes the sizzling sweetness of bourbon in the back of his throat and wishes he had a bottle to guzzle. He always tastes this after such a struggle.
When his feet touch the ground the fat man almost tumbles stupidly to the floor. He catches the guest chair and steadied himself, saving any commotion or shame. The fat man had always been fat but never so obese to be unbalanced. His liver was failing. There wasn't much time left, certainly not much out of pain. The fat man tells himself he knows this, but he still refuses to die. He's too young to die. It seems like just yesterday he had a son.
The fat man realized he's got nowhere to go. If the faculty wasn't checking on him they sure as hell don't want him bothering them. And walking is just too hard. His massive stomach boiled with acid sending shivers and smoke through his veins. He wished he could vomit but he couldn't. The fat man grabbed the guest chair and rested his body on top of the armrests since he couldn't squeeze between them.
The fat closed his eyes and breathed quickly, but soon the breathing slowed. The room went back to complete silence. The only sounds came from the adjoining room. The fat man decided to listen.
It was a family, a father and son and an old aunt or grandmother from what he could tell. He listened hard and damned any passing orderly while he tried. The conversation was intriguing from a world he once dreamed to share.
The father had a mission to care for his son. His life counted in days and the boy had no one else. Enter the old woman that cussed and gristled so loud it brought a smile to the fat man's pea colored cheeks. The fat man wanted badly to hobble next door and meet them all.
The fat man adored the show he was hearing. Tragedy, Comedy, Death, Love all moved with grace and respect, reality presented on a dull, worn platter serving its millionth meal. It was family, defined and glorious, strength in which the fat man never believed.
But he tried to find it. He tried to find it for his son. He cast his infant son into a sea of humanity and gave his best prayer to find a life preserver his father couldn't throw. Dreams of drowned children tormented the fat man forever, but he believed he did the right thing. The fat man believed his child had a better chance of survival with anyone besides himself.
Sitting in the lonely hospital room, the fat man listened to the talk of a family in the room next door. He laughed and cried like any great play. He thought about his past mistakes and the fleeting thievery of time.
The fat man would soon be dead. Hearing the casual speak of family lifted his despair of that haunting afternoon twelve years earlier. If his son found such love the fat man could die content. He wanted to walk over and meet them but he didn't.
Different demons pushed and prodded the fat man. A different road he chose to walk. He sat leaning on the chair in the hospital room, sweating from the effort to stand. The fat man heard his son's name and discarded it as misunderstood, impossible to be the answer to his prayer. His condition improved and he lived a bit longer, but the episode plagued him until the end.
The fat man thought about the child named Happy a lot in his last year. He thought of all that could be kind and gentle and died full of piercing regret.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
LIW&B Chapter 15 (Conclusion)
"Rosa, meet Happy," Mel introduced. "He's my son."
Happy took a step toward the old woman and extended his hand. Rosa looked at it rather than shake it heartily. She looked up at his face again and back at Mel. Silence was a rarity for the old ax, but there were dots to connect. Rosa remembered the last time her ex husband left her a voicemail. She had expected disaster.
"You call him 'Daddy'?" Rosa asked the boy, pointing at Mel.
Happy nodded, oblivious to the buzzard's hostile disbelief. "Yeah, he's my dad," Happy confirmed.
Rosa whistled high and shrill, an exclamation of her shock. "Well, I'll be dipped in shit. I can't believe you're still alive either."
Rosa took Happy's hand and gave it a shake. "Pleased to meet ya, Happy. You must be a good kid 'cuz God sure took a liking to ya." Rosa couldn't imagine Mel raising a child.
"You like livin' at the dump?" She asked the boy.
"Oh yes," Happy fervently agreed.
Rosa shook her head trying to picture a kid running around so much garbage and waste.
"Roll me in peanuts and flush me down the can," She said. Happy kept ignorant of her tone.
Rosa turned her chair to Mel and didn't worry about blocking out the boy. Mel was her target of aim.
"All right, Mel," she said, "I don't s'pose you called me down here after all these years just to say 'I told you so'. What's going on here? What do you want?"
A lot of people would shrink away from such a reaction, but Mel knew Rosa was just being herself. Mel proceeded gently, as diplomatic as he could.
"I won't bullshit around Rosa. I'll just cut to it. I'm dyin' of cancer. The doctor says I could go any day now."
Happy looked away from them and out into the hallway. He hated to hear Mel say this out loud. Happy distracted himself with hallway activity to avoid crying openly. Rosa didn't flinch. At her age death rivaled the weather as the subject of conversation.
"What kind of cancer you got?" Rosa inquired.
Mel exhaled and looked to the ceiling trying to recall all the doctor had told him.
"Hell, I don't know," Mel answered. "Every kind I think."
Rosa laughed her old smoky throated laugh and wished she had a cigarette.
"Anyway," Mel continued, "As you can see, I got a son now and he needs someone to watch out for him when I'm gone."
The low croak that begins a growl clicked in his ex wife's neck. Rosa waited to attack the fool.
"Now he doesn't need you to raise him," Mel explained. "I done handled all of that. He cook his own food and make his bed...."
Mel looked up at Happy and finished his sentence, "And he knows to wash up after himself and clean his dishes when he's done with him. Ain't that right?"
Happy brought his attention from a passing gurnee in the hall. He nodded as father wanted, unsure of what was happening. Mel hadn't mentioned Rosa. Mel hadn't mentioned anything.
"I clean up after myself," Happy announced.
"The boy's grown," Mel said. "He's 12 years old. He's been on his own all ready. I just prefer him to be under a friendly roof if I can help it."
"When's he been on his own?" Rosa asked, trying to poke a hole in her ex husband's story. "I thought you raised him."
Mel put his hands up to give him a chance.
"Well, I never quite got any legal guardianship of him when I found him as a baby," Mel explained shamefully. "Almost a year ago, the state came and snatched him up and stuck him in a children's home. I just now got him back."
Rosa considered this and didn't like the way it smelled.
"How'd you get him back?"
Mel watched the old fox, speechless, searching for a quick answer in his cancerous crumbling brain. Rosa interpreted the silence.
"You tryin' to stick me with a fugitive?" She accused.
"No, no," Mel lathered, "Don't be silly, this boy ain't no fugitive. The state just had its hands full. They didn't know what to do with him. So they," Mel paused, trying to think of something realistic, "They just decided to send him back home." Mel held his lip tight knowing he failed.
"Mel Stotch!" Rosa harped, "How dare you lie to my face! You know damn well the state didn't up and change its mind and send the boy back. That shit never works like that in the courts. If you don't tell me the truth I ain't helping you one bit."
"OK," Mel surrendered, "Yeah, you're right. He's a fugitive. He ran away from the place and came home to me."
Rosa looked at Happy who had come forward to be closer to his father's bed, a sight she never expected to see in her lifetime.
"He just got home yesterday and now I'm dying," Mel finished. "I don't want him going back to that goddamn hole! You're the only person I know that might be able to take him in. If you can't, I'll pack him a bag and buy him a map. I'll tell him how to catch a train."
The old man would have preferred his son not hear his plans shouted in such a manner. This brutish delivery completely opposed Mel's care and deceptive smile. But he laid it all out on the floor. It was his only chance to get what he thought would be the best for his son.
Rosa watched her dying ex husband, still as bullish and tricky as he was stupid. Had she been asked the favor over the phone she would've declined with a vicious verbal thrashing. Sitting in her wheelchair, weak and short on time herself, she saw this unimaginable boy who loved his father who she had the opportunity to help. If a bullish, stupid, asinine could be a part of something so virtuous and driven she saw no reason why she shouldn't do the same.
"I could use a hand around the house," She admitted. "But I'm older than you, Mel. My sand is running out right behind yours. You sure bouncin' him from grave to grave is the right thing to do? Tell me this ain't some half assed plan you cocked after they pumped ya full of morphine."
"It ain't that," Mel said with a grin. He knew his son had a home.
"And I ain't just droppin' a bill in your lap neither," Mel pushed. "I'm leavin' my yard to you and all I got saved over the years."
"Oh Jesus Christ Mel, the last thing I want is that nasty shithole! And how much cash could you possibly have saved?" Rosa couldn't hide the disgust.
Mel smiled defiantly and momentarily forgot his pain in his victory. Now was his time to say 'I told you so'.
"I got almost fifty thousand in the bank, forty nine thousand and change. I ain't spent shit on nothin' except food, booze and cigars since we got divorced." Mel waited for the retreat.
Rosa looked at him wide eyed, bags of skin sagging and slanted.
"Mel Stotch! I can't believe all that money's honest!"
"Well it is," Mel assured. "And if it wasn't honest would you turn it away?"
"Hell no!" Rosa shrieked, "I'd just put it in the freezer instead of the bank."
Rosa looked up at Happy. The boy was rubbing a loving paw over his father's shriveled head.
"I never dreamed this morning that I'd have a kid livin' with me by the end of the day." Rosa reached out and tugged Happy's arm. "Kid, you ready to come live with an old woman instead of an old man for a switch?"
Happy looked down at her, smiling instinctively to a friendly voice. He didn't know how to reply. This was the first he had heard of such an arrangement. He was relieved when Rosa shot back at Mel with another question, veering away from the subject.
"Wait a minute, Mel." Rosa sounded disenchanted, "How'm I s'posed to take control of this money? And I still don't want the damn junkyard."
"I'll need to sign it over to you I guess," Mel thought. "I'll write up a will. And don't you have a nephew or somebody that needs a job? Just give the yard to them."
Rosa closed her eyes and shook her head. The fool hadn't covered all the details as usual.
"Mel, you can't just 'sign it over to me'. On what, a hospital bib? You're gonna need a lawyer to settle all that. Have you got a lawyer ready to deal with all this?"
Mel thought of the unpleasant experience in Byron Mittle's office. He still stung from the memory.
"No," Mel insisted, "No goddamn lawyers! I'm leavin' this world without seeing another one!"
Rosa hung her head and groaned in disappointment. "Mel, you goddamn fool! This ain't somethin' to hold your breath 'til you get your way about. You got no choice. Without a lawyer you're gonna die and leave everything to the state. That what happens when you got no next of kin."
Mel bared his teeth at the old woman. She loved ramming facts down his throat.
"Your precious dump will be plowed over with asphault and the highway expanded. That's what'll happen without a lawyer!" Rosa declared.
"Dad, what about my cats?" Happy asked, nervous at the news of the highway.
"Don't worry about the cats," Mel fended, "She don't know what she's talking about. The dump ain't goin' nowhere."
"I know what I'm talkin' about," Rosa countered. "And you know I'm right!"
Mel swiped his hand in a gesture to wave her off, but he knew she was right.
"Goddammit woman," Mel cussed. "Why do you got to make everything so hard?"
Rosa threw up her drooping arms, "How is this my fault? I was ready to take the boy without the money. I don't know nothin' about no cats or give a damn about the dump. That's all your problems."
Mel scowled at her again knowing she was right. He was the only one that needed a lawyer. The money and the property were only his loss. Mel frowned and bent his hairless eyebrows, the burning of his organ decay reaching through the painkiller. He didn't have long. The old man couldn't tolerate the thought of a lawyer any more than he could tolerate the thought of losing the fruits of a lifetime of labor. He had to think of a solution. He had plan some other way.
The room stayed quiet except for the beeps of the heart monitor. Rosa cracked her knuckles while Happy fidgeted nervously. Mel laughed out loud when the idea came to him.
"I got it Rosa!" Mel trumpeted. "I'll marry ya!"
The old man beamed as if he just cured his own cancer.
"What?" Rosa howled. "You can't be serious, Mel. I actually sat here and watched you pull that out of your ass."
"What do you mean?" Mel argued, "It's a great idea! You'll be my wife and next of kin. You'll get everything! You just don't want to take my last name so the state can't track Happy back to you. But there'll be a legal marriage license that entitles you to my property. And it don't take no damn lawyers!"
Rosa only looked at him, giving him a silent message he knew well. Same old shit different decade.
"OK, how are we gonna get married? That's a helluva lot more complicated than having a lawyer type up a will."
"Not at all," Mel answered, "It's $25 for a marriage license. We can grab a chaplain here in the hospital. We can get the same fella that'll read me my last rites! We can do it tomorrow right here by my bed!"
Rosa continued looking at him, quietly repulsed.
"What's the problem?" Mel pleaded, "You got nothin' to lose!"
"No I ain't got nothin' to lose!" Rosa snapped. "But just 'cuz you're almost dead and didn't plan shit til the last minute don't make your plans so perfect and smart! Just 'cuz I'm eighty eight years old don't mean I'm gonna get hitched without thinkin' it through!"
Rosa looked around the room, at Happy, then back at Mel.
"Did you even talk to your boy about any of this? He don't seem like he knows anything you're talking about," Rosa scolded. "He don't know nothin' about coming to live with me."
Both father and son looked embarrassed. Happy took his father's hands to show his support. Mel looked at Happy, shamed and wanting an excuse.
"Happy knows I'm doing what's best for him. Ain't that right, Happy? You know I'm only gonna do you right."
Happy stated his loyalty. "Yeah, Dad, I'll go where you want me to," Happy still remained cautious, "But can you tell me about this lady first?"
Rosa burst into laughter, the first time in a long time for the aged bird.
"Look Mel, tell the kid who I am and what your plans are," she instructed. "And if he's still OK to come live with me, I'll marry ya and take everything you got."
Rosa backed her chair away to give them more space.
Mel looked at his son and felt in awe. He couldn't have been more proud had the boy been from his own blood. Mel reached out a withered, dying hand and took his son's arm. He pulled it close to him and used the other dying hand to stroke it while he spoke.
"I'm sorry Happy," Mel said, "I don't mean to be runnin' around behind your back tellin' your business to everyone but you. But I ain't got much time. I got to take care of you first and tell you about it later."
"That's OK, Dad," Happy assured. "I know better."
"Rosa here is my ex wife," Mel informed. "We never had no kids of our own. You'll be the first for both of us. You mind her like you would me. It'll be a good roof over your head."
Tears clung to the corners of his son's eyes, ready to spill like a broken levee.
"Can I stay here until you die?" Happy asked.
"Oh sure," Mel squeezed his hand to calm the boy. "I wouldn't have it any other way. My son stays by my side 'til the end. Don't let anyone tell you different, Happy."
Happy smiled politely at his father, battling emotion he thought his father didn't want to see. Mel saw the struggle and insisted it stop. He patted his sunken chest and called for his boy.
"Come on and hug your daddy," Mel said. "Just lie down here next to me and give me a hug."
Happy bent and maneuvered slowly beside his father in bed. Tears began to flow and he covered his face in his father's shoulder as he hugged him. The struggle was over. Happy wept conveniently as his father had designed.
"Dad," Happy asked with a wavering voice, "What am I gonna do when I grow up?"
"Well," Mel soothed, "That's no big deal. That ain't nothin' to worry about or lose any sleep over." He rubbed his son's back hoping to relieve some fear in the future.
"You'll just get a job and start workin'. Then you'll find a wife and have a kid. Then you'll figure out a way to get out of workin', something that brings in some money but doesn't keep you occupied more than a couple hours a day. Then you just live. Hopefully, your wife and kid are still with ya at that point."
Mel patted his son's back and scratched his bald head.
"Get the chaplain in here," Rosa called out into the hallway, pressing her beeper for a nurse. "I need to get hitched before I feel like gettin' divorced again."
Happy took a step toward the old woman and extended his hand. Rosa looked at it rather than shake it heartily. She looked up at his face again and back at Mel. Silence was a rarity for the old ax, but there were dots to connect. Rosa remembered the last time her ex husband left her a voicemail. She had expected disaster.
"You call him 'Daddy'?" Rosa asked the boy, pointing at Mel.
Happy nodded, oblivious to the buzzard's hostile disbelief. "Yeah, he's my dad," Happy confirmed.
Rosa whistled high and shrill, an exclamation of her shock. "Well, I'll be dipped in shit. I can't believe you're still alive either."
Rosa took Happy's hand and gave it a shake. "Pleased to meet ya, Happy. You must be a good kid 'cuz God sure took a liking to ya." Rosa couldn't imagine Mel raising a child.
"You like livin' at the dump?" She asked the boy.
"Oh yes," Happy fervently agreed.
Rosa shook her head trying to picture a kid running around so much garbage and waste.
"Roll me in peanuts and flush me down the can," She said. Happy kept ignorant of her tone.
Rosa turned her chair to Mel and didn't worry about blocking out the boy. Mel was her target of aim.
"All right, Mel," she said, "I don't s'pose you called me down here after all these years just to say 'I told you so'. What's going on here? What do you want?"
A lot of people would shrink away from such a reaction, but Mel knew Rosa was just being herself. Mel proceeded gently, as diplomatic as he could.
"I won't bullshit around Rosa. I'll just cut to it. I'm dyin' of cancer. The doctor says I could go any day now."
Happy looked away from them and out into the hallway. He hated to hear Mel say this out loud. Happy distracted himself with hallway activity to avoid crying openly. Rosa didn't flinch. At her age death rivaled the weather as the subject of conversation.
"What kind of cancer you got?" Rosa inquired.
Mel exhaled and looked to the ceiling trying to recall all the doctor had told him.
"Hell, I don't know," Mel answered. "Every kind I think."
Rosa laughed her old smoky throated laugh and wished she had a cigarette.
"Anyway," Mel continued, "As you can see, I got a son now and he needs someone to watch out for him when I'm gone."
The low croak that begins a growl clicked in his ex wife's neck. Rosa waited to attack the fool.
"Now he doesn't need you to raise him," Mel explained. "I done handled all of that. He cook his own food and make his bed...."
Mel looked up at Happy and finished his sentence, "And he knows to wash up after himself and clean his dishes when he's done with him. Ain't that right?"
Happy brought his attention from a passing gurnee in the hall. He nodded as father wanted, unsure of what was happening. Mel hadn't mentioned Rosa. Mel hadn't mentioned anything.
"I clean up after myself," Happy announced.
"The boy's grown," Mel said. "He's 12 years old. He's been on his own all ready. I just prefer him to be under a friendly roof if I can help it."
"When's he been on his own?" Rosa asked, trying to poke a hole in her ex husband's story. "I thought you raised him."
Mel put his hands up to give him a chance.
"Well, I never quite got any legal guardianship of him when I found him as a baby," Mel explained shamefully. "Almost a year ago, the state came and snatched him up and stuck him in a children's home. I just now got him back."
Rosa considered this and didn't like the way it smelled.
"How'd you get him back?"
Mel watched the old fox, speechless, searching for a quick answer in his cancerous crumbling brain. Rosa interpreted the silence.
"You tryin' to stick me with a fugitive?" She accused.
"No, no," Mel lathered, "Don't be silly, this boy ain't no fugitive. The state just had its hands full. They didn't know what to do with him. So they," Mel paused, trying to think of something realistic, "They just decided to send him back home." Mel held his lip tight knowing he failed.
"Mel Stotch!" Rosa harped, "How dare you lie to my face! You know damn well the state didn't up and change its mind and send the boy back. That shit never works like that in the courts. If you don't tell me the truth I ain't helping you one bit."
"OK," Mel surrendered, "Yeah, you're right. He's a fugitive. He ran away from the place and came home to me."
Rosa looked at Happy who had come forward to be closer to his father's bed, a sight she never expected to see in her lifetime.
"He just got home yesterday and now I'm dying," Mel finished. "I don't want him going back to that goddamn hole! You're the only person I know that might be able to take him in. If you can't, I'll pack him a bag and buy him a map. I'll tell him how to catch a train."
The old man would have preferred his son not hear his plans shouted in such a manner. This brutish delivery completely opposed Mel's care and deceptive smile. But he laid it all out on the floor. It was his only chance to get what he thought would be the best for his son.
Rosa watched her dying ex husband, still as bullish and tricky as he was stupid. Had she been asked the favor over the phone she would've declined with a vicious verbal thrashing. Sitting in her wheelchair, weak and short on time herself, she saw this unimaginable boy who loved his father who she had the opportunity to help. If a bullish, stupid, asinine could be a part of something so virtuous and driven she saw no reason why she shouldn't do the same.
"I could use a hand around the house," She admitted. "But I'm older than you, Mel. My sand is running out right behind yours. You sure bouncin' him from grave to grave is the right thing to do? Tell me this ain't some half assed plan you cocked after they pumped ya full of morphine."
"It ain't that," Mel said with a grin. He knew his son had a home.
"And I ain't just droppin' a bill in your lap neither," Mel pushed. "I'm leavin' my yard to you and all I got saved over the years."
"Oh Jesus Christ Mel, the last thing I want is that nasty shithole! And how much cash could you possibly have saved?" Rosa couldn't hide the disgust.
Mel smiled defiantly and momentarily forgot his pain in his victory. Now was his time to say 'I told you so'.
"I got almost fifty thousand in the bank, forty nine thousand and change. I ain't spent shit on nothin' except food, booze and cigars since we got divorced." Mel waited for the retreat.
Rosa looked at him wide eyed, bags of skin sagging and slanted.
"Mel Stotch! I can't believe all that money's honest!"
"Well it is," Mel assured. "And if it wasn't honest would you turn it away?"
"Hell no!" Rosa shrieked, "I'd just put it in the freezer instead of the bank."
Rosa looked up at Happy. The boy was rubbing a loving paw over his father's shriveled head.
"I never dreamed this morning that I'd have a kid livin' with me by the end of the day." Rosa reached out and tugged Happy's arm. "Kid, you ready to come live with an old woman instead of an old man for a switch?"
Happy looked down at her, smiling instinctively to a friendly voice. He didn't know how to reply. This was the first he had heard of such an arrangement. He was relieved when Rosa shot back at Mel with another question, veering away from the subject.
"Wait a minute, Mel." Rosa sounded disenchanted, "How'm I s'posed to take control of this money? And I still don't want the damn junkyard."
"I'll need to sign it over to you I guess," Mel thought. "I'll write up a will. And don't you have a nephew or somebody that needs a job? Just give the yard to them."
Rosa closed her eyes and shook her head. The fool hadn't covered all the details as usual.
"Mel, you can't just 'sign it over to me'. On what, a hospital bib? You're gonna need a lawyer to settle all that. Have you got a lawyer ready to deal with all this?"
Mel thought of the unpleasant experience in Byron Mittle's office. He still stung from the memory.
"No," Mel insisted, "No goddamn lawyers! I'm leavin' this world without seeing another one!"
Rosa hung her head and groaned in disappointment. "Mel, you goddamn fool! This ain't somethin' to hold your breath 'til you get your way about. You got no choice. Without a lawyer you're gonna die and leave everything to the state. That what happens when you got no next of kin."
Mel bared his teeth at the old woman. She loved ramming facts down his throat.
"Your precious dump will be plowed over with asphault and the highway expanded. That's what'll happen without a lawyer!" Rosa declared.
"Dad, what about my cats?" Happy asked, nervous at the news of the highway.
"Don't worry about the cats," Mel fended, "She don't know what she's talking about. The dump ain't goin' nowhere."
"I know what I'm talkin' about," Rosa countered. "And you know I'm right!"
Mel swiped his hand in a gesture to wave her off, but he knew she was right.
"Goddammit woman," Mel cussed. "Why do you got to make everything so hard?"
Rosa threw up her drooping arms, "How is this my fault? I was ready to take the boy without the money. I don't know nothin' about no cats or give a damn about the dump. That's all your problems."
Mel scowled at her again knowing she was right. He was the only one that needed a lawyer. The money and the property were only his loss. Mel frowned and bent his hairless eyebrows, the burning of his organ decay reaching through the painkiller. He didn't have long. The old man couldn't tolerate the thought of a lawyer any more than he could tolerate the thought of losing the fruits of a lifetime of labor. He had to think of a solution. He had plan some other way.
The room stayed quiet except for the beeps of the heart monitor. Rosa cracked her knuckles while Happy fidgeted nervously. Mel laughed out loud when the idea came to him.
"I got it Rosa!" Mel trumpeted. "I'll marry ya!"
The old man beamed as if he just cured his own cancer.
"What?" Rosa howled. "You can't be serious, Mel. I actually sat here and watched you pull that out of your ass."
"What do you mean?" Mel argued, "It's a great idea! You'll be my wife and next of kin. You'll get everything! You just don't want to take my last name so the state can't track Happy back to you. But there'll be a legal marriage license that entitles you to my property. And it don't take no damn lawyers!"
Rosa only looked at him, giving him a silent message he knew well. Same old shit different decade.
"OK, how are we gonna get married? That's a helluva lot more complicated than having a lawyer type up a will."
"Not at all," Mel answered, "It's $25 for a marriage license. We can grab a chaplain here in the hospital. We can get the same fella that'll read me my last rites! We can do it tomorrow right here by my bed!"
Rosa continued looking at him, quietly repulsed.
"What's the problem?" Mel pleaded, "You got nothin' to lose!"
"No I ain't got nothin' to lose!" Rosa snapped. "But just 'cuz you're almost dead and didn't plan shit til the last minute don't make your plans so perfect and smart! Just 'cuz I'm eighty eight years old don't mean I'm gonna get hitched without thinkin' it through!"
Rosa looked around the room, at Happy, then back at Mel.
"Did you even talk to your boy about any of this? He don't seem like he knows anything you're talking about," Rosa scolded. "He don't know nothin' about coming to live with me."
Both father and son looked embarrassed. Happy took his father's hands to show his support. Mel looked at Happy, shamed and wanting an excuse.
"Happy knows I'm doing what's best for him. Ain't that right, Happy? You know I'm only gonna do you right."
Happy stated his loyalty. "Yeah, Dad, I'll go where you want me to," Happy still remained cautious, "But can you tell me about this lady first?"
Rosa burst into laughter, the first time in a long time for the aged bird.
"Look Mel, tell the kid who I am and what your plans are," she instructed. "And if he's still OK to come live with me, I'll marry ya and take everything you got."
Rosa backed her chair away to give them more space.
Mel looked at his son and felt in awe. He couldn't have been more proud had the boy been from his own blood. Mel reached out a withered, dying hand and took his son's arm. He pulled it close to him and used the other dying hand to stroke it while he spoke.
"I'm sorry Happy," Mel said, "I don't mean to be runnin' around behind your back tellin' your business to everyone but you. But I ain't got much time. I got to take care of you first and tell you about it later."
"That's OK, Dad," Happy assured. "I know better."
"Rosa here is my ex wife," Mel informed. "We never had no kids of our own. You'll be the first for both of us. You mind her like you would me. It'll be a good roof over your head."
Tears clung to the corners of his son's eyes, ready to spill like a broken levee.
"Can I stay here until you die?" Happy asked.
"Oh sure," Mel squeezed his hand to calm the boy. "I wouldn't have it any other way. My son stays by my side 'til the end. Don't let anyone tell you different, Happy."
Happy smiled politely at his father, battling emotion he thought his father didn't want to see. Mel saw the struggle and insisted it stop. He patted his sunken chest and called for his boy.
"Come on and hug your daddy," Mel said. "Just lie down here next to me and give me a hug."
Happy bent and maneuvered slowly beside his father in bed. Tears began to flow and he covered his face in his father's shoulder as he hugged him. The struggle was over. Happy wept conveniently as his father had designed.
"Dad," Happy asked with a wavering voice, "What am I gonna do when I grow up?"
"Well," Mel soothed, "That's no big deal. That ain't nothin' to worry about or lose any sleep over." He rubbed his son's back hoping to relieve some fear in the future.
"You'll just get a job and start workin'. Then you'll find a wife and have a kid. Then you'll figure out a way to get out of workin', something that brings in some money but doesn't keep you occupied more than a couple hours a day. Then you just live. Hopefully, your wife and kid are still with ya at that point."
Mel patted his son's back and scratched his bald head.
"Get the chaplain in here," Rosa called out into the hallway, pressing her beeper for a nurse. "I need to get hitched before I feel like gettin' divorced again."
Saturday, December 26, 2009
LIW&B Chapter 15 (continued more)
"Why in god's name would Mel Stotch be callin' me from a hospital?" Rosa crowed. A nurse stood behind her pushing her wheel chair. The nurse smiled politely in spite of the hoary shrew. "I couldn't believe you of all people was in the hospital. I figured ya died years ago and I missed it in the paper." Her scowl was permanent and intended no harm.
"Come in, Rosa," Mel beckoned. "I'm glad you came. And I'm glad you're still alive too."
The nurse pushed Rosa's chair beside the bed. Happy stepped out of the way to make room. Once bedside, the nurse gave Rosa a pager and told her which buttons to press when she needed another nurse to leave. Rosa stared at the tall, bald teenager with the chummy glow. She was staring at him when Mel broke the ice.
"Rosa, meet Happy," Mel introduced. "He's my son."
Happy took a step toward the old woman and extended his hand. Rosa looked at it rather than shake it heartily. She looked up at his face again and back at Mel. Silence was a rarity for the old ax, but there were dots to connect. Rosa remembered the last time her ex husband left her a voicemail. She had expected disaster.
"Come in, Rosa," Mel beckoned. "I'm glad you came. And I'm glad you're still alive too."
The nurse pushed Rosa's chair beside the bed. Happy stepped out of the way to make room. Once bedside, the nurse gave Rosa a pager and told her which buttons to press when she needed another nurse to leave. Rosa stared at the tall, bald teenager with the chummy glow. She was staring at him when Mel broke the ice.
"Rosa, meet Happy," Mel introduced. "He's my son."
Happy took a step toward the old woman and extended his hand. Rosa looked at it rather than shake it heartily. She looked up at his face again and back at Mel. Silence was a rarity for the old ax, but there were dots to connect. Rosa remembered the last time her ex husband left her a voicemail. She had expected disaster.
Friday, December 25, 2009
LIW&B Chapter 15 (continued)
Mel spared the details when his son came back inside. He had a final parental mission to find care for his boy after he was gone. He would sooner give him a bag of money and tell him to put up his thumb than to send him back to being a ward of the state. He made a phone call from his deathbed and hoped it would be the answer he needed.
Then the dying man spent time with his son. They talked about their time apart but mostly of their time together. Happy told Mel about his required therapy sessions three times a week and how the counselors always tried to make Mel sound so abusive. They seemed to care about him but they wouldn't listen to what he had to say. He told Mel about Counselor Rob and that he was the only one from whom Happy sensed any real love.
Happy told his father that for all the education, counseling, and supervision the center provides, the missing piece was any genuine love. Happy felt more love in the garbage truck with his memories than he received in eight months of state care. Mel thought it better to change the subject. His time was too short for regret.
Then Happy laughed at some of his father's old stories and longed for some of his pancakes. Mel told him about some of the truck drivers and his cats, anything light, anything pleasant. There were a lot of bad memories to leave behind, dark thoughts that Mel didn't want to admit.
The old man remained staggered that Happy arrived in the trailer when he did. Even on his deathbed, he refused any gratitude to any benevolent spirits or force. If he was to credit such an omnipresent force with his son's return he also had to blame it for his son's departure. Mel chose to ignore such discussion altogether and stick with the perspective through which he was trained to see. The cranky bastard let himself turn soft and ignore his bitter edge. He wanted to leave his boy with better memories than that. He firmly believed he had less than a week and he had been right about everything so far.
Mel kept his fear quiet and in the back of his mind. This fear was the arrival of child welfare agents tracking them down and stealing the boy like pirates. He didn't have much time left and now he had taken the risk of planning it out with his son. He told Happy he would fight them but he had no such strength. All his powers boiled down to a loud cuss and a cough. Mel would be more defenseless than he was the first time if the state decided to hunt them down. Mel understood their only hope to be his voicemail to an unanswered phone call. He listened to Happy talk and refused to acknowledge the panic.
A voice filled the room, more ancient and accusing than his own. His phone call answered, his fear subsided. Mel sat up in bed and braced himself for battle. Happy stopped talking and followed his father's stare to the door.
"Why in god's name would Mel Stotch be callin' me from a hospital?" Rosa crowed. A nurse stood behind her pushing her wheel chair. The nurse smiled politely in spite of the hoary shrew. "I couldn't believe it that you of anyone was in the hospital. I figured ya died years ago and I missed it in the paper." Her scowl was permanent and intended no harm.
"Come in, Rosa," Mel beckoned. "I'm glad you came. And I'm glad you're still alive too."
All right, pizza has been ordered. This will chapter will finish tomorrow, possible the entire story.
Then the dying man spent time with his son. They talked about their time apart but mostly of their time together. Happy told Mel about his required therapy sessions three times a week and how the counselors always tried to make Mel sound so abusive. They seemed to care about him but they wouldn't listen to what he had to say. He told Mel about Counselor Rob and that he was the only one from whom Happy sensed any real love.
Happy told his father that for all the education, counseling, and supervision the center provides, the missing piece was any genuine love. Happy felt more love in the garbage truck with his memories than he received in eight months of state care. Mel thought it better to change the subject. His time was too short for regret.
Then Happy laughed at some of his father's old stories and longed for some of his pancakes. Mel told him about some of the truck drivers and his cats, anything light, anything pleasant. There were a lot of bad memories to leave behind, dark thoughts that Mel didn't want to admit.
The old man remained staggered that Happy arrived in the trailer when he did. Even on his deathbed, he refused any gratitude to any benevolent spirits or force. If he was to credit such an omnipresent force with his son's return he also had to blame it for his son's departure. Mel chose to ignore such discussion altogether and stick with the perspective through which he was trained to see. The cranky bastard let himself turn soft and ignore his bitter edge. He wanted to leave his boy with better memories than that. He firmly believed he had less than a week and he had been right about everything so far.
Mel kept his fear quiet and in the back of his mind. This fear was the arrival of child welfare agents tracking them down and stealing the boy like pirates. He didn't have much time left and now he had taken the risk of planning it out with his son. He told Happy he would fight them but he had no such strength. All his powers boiled down to a loud cuss and a cough. Mel would be more defenseless than he was the first time if the state decided to hunt them down. Mel understood their only hope to be his voicemail to an unanswered phone call. He listened to Happy talk and refused to acknowledge the panic.
A voice filled the room, more ancient and accusing than his own. His phone call answered, his fear subsided. Mel sat up in bed and braced himself for battle. Happy stopped talking and followed his father's stare to the door.
"Why in god's name would Mel Stotch be callin' me from a hospital?" Rosa crowed. A nurse stood behind her pushing her wheel chair. The nurse smiled politely in spite of the hoary shrew. "I couldn't believe it that you of anyone was in the hospital. I figured ya died years ago and I missed it in the paper." Her scowl was permanent and intended no harm.
"Come in, Rosa," Mel beckoned. "I'm glad you came. And I'm glad you're still alive too."
All right, pizza has been ordered. This will chapter will finish tomorrow, possible the entire story.
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