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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 22)

Continued from chapter 21 of the Devastation Series.

My head spun to the side like the Rock-em-Sock-em set I had when I was a kid. My brain rattled and I grabbed my jaw to readjust my face. I was stunned and taken back and unsure of my next moves. I stepped back and out the doorway as the bed came back in. Everyone was silent and unsure of how to respond. The nurse wheeled the bed back into the room and Bert looked at in the hall and then to Valerie. “You must be Valerie,” he politely said with a sneer.

I walked back to the bathroom and ran water over my face. My skin was blushed, but the smack did not leave any lasting marks. Her handprint was faintly outlined on my cheek but was fading as the moments passed. The hurt, however, was much deeper. It was rooted in shock and pride. I realized that I had that coming, I supposed, but it was just another reality that I didn’t want to acknowledge. I leaned onto the sink, and the cold water came on and filled the bowl. I splashed the cold water onto my face and pulled my cheeks down to stretch my face. “You’ve got this, Jake,” I affirmed myself and then air-dried my hands. I stood tall and studied myself in the mirror. My hair was greasy and curled on the sides and top from a life on the streets. The skin on my face was darker than my last mirror glimpse. The sun had added tone and the grime accented my features making artificial shadows appear. It had been some time since I properly bathed. Fresh sink water and towels were much easier to access. I was proud to have survived, but I had lost confidence in myself and my image. I grabbed a paper towel and wiped my cheeks and forehead. After a deep breath, I shook it off and tossed the grayed towel in the wastebasket then headed back to the room.

I heard talking while I walked down the hall. The voices became more distinct as I approached. “He has been through a lot…” Bert said. “I know that…” Valerie replied. “He has not stopped thinking about you… about his choices…” He continued. As he finished, I walked around the corner and cleared my throat as I cautiously walked in. I avoided direct contact with both of them. “Welcome back…” Bert said to me. I nodded as I moved to the reclining chair. I finished folding a blanket and sat it on the end of the bed. “I am glad to see you, Valerie.” I blurted out into the awkward silence. Her face was stern but had a natural glow about it. She looked to me and her stern look faded while being replaced with a smile. “I am glad to see you as well.” She confidently stated. She brushed her hair with a flick of her wrist. “So, Bert… Tell me about you and how you came to meet this young man?” She asked. A parental undertone was in her voice. I could not tell if that was from frustration or if she was laying it on thick intentionally. I didn’t understand until later.

Bert proceeded to tell her about himself. He did not confide in her, like our campfire talks, but explained his personality and how we arrived to now. She was polite and engaging and got the old man talking, that was for sure. Listening to them reminded me why I liked both of them though. I reflected on conversations by the fireside as well as the apartment nights when I was in pieces. Shortly after she finished talking, lunch came in. I was amazed at how much time had passed – but there is something to be said when we feel safe and comfortable. I looked to Valerie when the food was brought in, “Want a bite?” I asked. “No thanks, I had a late breakfast.” She replied. “Care if I eat?” I asked. She gestured ‘go-ahead’ to me and like hitting the gas on a mower – my appetite set in.

We had finished up and Bert looked over to me and winked slightly. I thought that he may have had a twitch until he spoke. “Why don’t you two go catch up? I am not an expert but I think it may be a good idea.” Then, just like he said nothing at all, he looked back down at his empty plate and finished his juice. “Good idea,” Valerie said, and before I could reply, “I think he has a couple more smacks coming and I won’t put you through that.” She giggled obnoxiously and stood up to exit the room. “Coming?” She looked back at me. I felt sheepishly ostracised but reluctantly followed. I nodded to Bert and heard the classic death march song in my mind. It would not have been appropriate to say although, I laughed to myself. We walked outside to the back of the hospital.

The lawn was huge. It was perfectly cut and the landscaping made it feel like a resort. It was a postcard summoning a photographer to be sure. The sun was heading behind a cloud and the shadows cascaded over the lawn. Birds were calling overhead to the ones in the small pond. People of all shapes, colors, and sizes were walking the trails made to encourage active health. Other than my hygiene – I was in heaven in my mind. Freedom came over me and I stretched my arms out like I was flying in the breeze. Valerie stepped to the side giving me room to soar and a laugh subconsciously escaped from my mouth and then hers too. I felt at home, the life I had never felt before. Walking the track and Valerie beside me, it was a feeling that I had not had. It was safety and it was freedom.

“What happened?” She asked point-blank as we rounded the corner towards the pond. I got defensive, then anxious, saddened, and settled with a form of humble honesty. I explained things from my point of view. I admitted to being emotional and illogical. I felt comfortable and found myself opening up like I had never done before. Bert and I talked, but it was different. He knew me from my story and she had insight into my journey; my history to my recent actions. It poured out effortlessly and I imagined, at one point, she was going to start a lecture. Instead, she patiently listened and affirmed me with empathy, gestures, and nods. I walked through Maggie, the times before I met Valerie, my stumbling, and detailed my fascination of the recent weeks. I apologized to Valerie. I was comforted when I shared my story she placed her hand on my far shoulder and pulled me to her. In the middle of the field, next to the pond, I halted and turned to her. The words formed and slowly came out. “I am… sorry… I need you…” As I realized what I had done, I looked away from a lack of confidence. I turned my body away and she pulled me straight to her, firmly and intentionally.

“Thank you. I am here for you, now… if you will let me.” She whispered. Tears started to rapidly well and fall from my eyes. They leaped from my eyes and I collapsed to my knees. I had not wept, since I cuddled with Valerie on the couch and she let me share my inner thoughts and feelings. She squatted down beside me and touched my shoulder again. When I began to regain control of emotions, she guided me back to my feet. I was at a loss for words – but she kept in between the buoys and into the harbor. “I.. I.. ” I stammered. “Jake… I told you once before. This is not my first rodeo. Do you think your Dad always had it together?” She looked at me with a curious questioning gesture. I did not know what to say or how to engage her at the moment. “When we make this… ” she motioned between us, “okay… then I have a couple of things to talk to you about. But… not right now. I can help you put the puzzle of you together… if you let me. If we build trust.” Stunned, I was silent for the next part of our walk. We pointed to birds flying or diving in the pond. Flowers were planted all around and signs scientifically identified them.

While walking, the same piercing flood of emotion that I experienced in the night, erupted inside of me. I needed to face my criminal charges. I needed to walk ahead of this mess and I was going to start with Valerie. “The cops are probably looking for me by now Valerie. When I bailed, I snuck out the window. They were at my door that night and I didn’t answer. I had a ticket, that I am sure that it has moved beyond that now. Combine that with my squatting – which I am sure will come back as embezzlement or some other white-collar crime. I appreciate your willingness to help but I have to face that music alone.” I quickly and boldly stated, with a deep breath. Valerie stopped walking and her face stretched long with her chin hanging low and mouth wide. It was the look that someone gives a person when they cannot believe what the other is saying. “Sorry, Valerie – ruined that help right away…” I sighed. I stopped walking and turned back towards her.

The sun tucked behind a cloud blowing over. I thought the ominous graying of day seeming ironic. I assessed God liked some humor and added little things for my effect. “What do you mean – they were coming to get you? I think that is the way you intended it?” She asked. “I saw them at the apartment. Work must have called in breaking an entering or a squatter. Then with my warrant – they were coming to arrest me! Why else do comes come and known on your door?” I was puzzled. My interactions weren’t substantial with law enforcement, but even in my limited experience, it did not usually turn out good when a person runs… She turned away from me, and if I didn’t know better, I was sure that I heard a giggle. “Did you just giggle at me?” I was appalled and did not filter my reaction. She turned back around and confirmed that she was giggling. By that point, it was full-on laughter. She approached me arms out drawing me in for a hug. I was reluctant and backed away from her since I could not believe what was happening. The scared and anxiety turned to flight mode and frustration. She leaned in and pulled me closer. I could not escape the safe feeling – even in my astonished anger.

“I am sorry that I am laughing. I think you will too… eventually. The cops…were there… for a well-check. I called them – since I could not get ahold of you! OH-MY-GOD! I am so sorry that you’ve been living with this!” And just like that, I nearly collapsed. I had built this world of paranoia and doom on a fictional reality. I thought back through the last several weeks; the thoughts that I had and realized how much more sense this version of reality made. In a single moment, the safety that I believed was confirmed. I fell into her embrace. Her arms wrapped around me like a sloth to a tree. Her warm face pressed against mine and her breasts were soft pillows pressing into my lower chest. I realized an attraction was present that I had not before.

Everything was different now. Our talks wandered in life and I felt like I had shared a guilty shame. The weights were lifted and my head started to focus again. We trapesed across the lawn and covered ground in nearly every section of the property. We appreciated the natural forest that boarded the far side of the property. The birds and squirrels cackled and chattered in the trees as we approached then they would scatter and peer at us from ahead and behind. The trees waved at us gently with the small gusts that whiffed around us. I felt like I had my head on straight as we began our journey back to Bert. I had almost forgotten about him. “One more thing – we should discuss when we head back,” Valerie said, in our lockstep path. “Sure… what is it?” I inquired. We had covered so many things and varying levels of emotion had me ready for just about anything. “Your dad…” she paused as she tried to get the words out, “wanted you to have the property.” She looked into my face, trying to read me. “He only asked that you let me help you – show you how to do it.” “I…uh…I…” Again, I stammered, “I don’t know that I am ready…” I confessed. “You are Jake. We can be a team…” She added.

A joy that I had not had in a long time ran through my veins. I had a home. I had a friend. And I had a part of life that I felt was missing. We walked back into the hospital.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 21)

Continued from chapter 20 of the Devastation Series.

“Calm down sir, what’s your emergency?” The AI operator said over the phone. I tried to explain the best that I could. The phone beeped in my ear reminding me of the low battery. The AI operator’s instructions cut out with the beeps. Before I could get out all of the details, two drones were hovering over me. They had used the 911 beacon to provide a location and FPV for the dispatch operator which had switched to a human. The AI can screen calls and provide basic instructions, when the situation is more complicated the AI summarizes and transfers to a real person which then navigates the drone cameras for eyes on the scene. AI, while effective, picks up on keywords and phrases – so being distraught can make calls much more difficult. Drones had replaced the need for traffic and body cams long ago and were by far superior on-the-scene.

“Sir, please put your mask on,” the voice on the phone stated in the middle of silence. My mask, I thought, really? Suddenly, we were humanized again. It wasn’t long before the first responders arrived. Since the privatization of societal departments, only the best of the best were kept. Accidents and incidents were monitored much more closely and urgency had changed since mother passed. I found out later if Mom would have been attended to a few minutes earlier, the likelihood of survival would have quadrupled. It was a nice feeling to know that we were taken seriously and the care was not tied to social status. The help was prompt, and our care was the priority of the first responders at that moment. The operator finished with informational questions and I was handed off to the on-scene responders.

I explained what happened – but the focus was more on the stabilization of Bert. They cut his shirt and hooked him up to several devices. They injected his arm with several concoctions and strapped a scanner to his forehead to monitor brain activity and activity location. The whole thing took a matter of minutes, by then they had him in the back of the ambulance, I was sitting on a bench on the side and they were slamming the doors shut while taking off. It reminded me of an old-time pit-stop at a car race; I was anxious and trying to observe what was going on. I recognized the heart monitor and felt slightly relieved when it beeped in a normal rhythm. For a man that I just met, I was significantly attached.

Sirens blared and we would slow down nearing traffic stops. Horns would sound and the speed would pick up again. Even though everything in the back was secured, the jarring movements made me imagine items falling out of their places. Bert gasped for air and started mumbling. The responders shushed him and continued their AI diagnostics. I had been around that tech recently more than I ever cared to. I felt my phone buzz in my pocket where I placed it from habit. I pulled it out and hundreds of text messages came through, most were Valerie. I did not see all of them with the current situation going on, but the messages ranged from angry to worried and hopeful. I was not ready to talk to her yet. It was a mixture of fear, for myself, and shame for my actions. I was not ready to face the legal system and even more so: myself.

We arrived at the main hospital and the pit crew jumped back into action. Everything slammed and banged and moved in a calculated fashion. The experience of the crew showed. After Bert was out of the back of the ambulance, I was ushered inside to the waiting area. The admissions nurse had a few questions for me before I was able to go back. Although I was not able to give much history, I was able to describe the last 48 hours as well as the symptoms that led to the hospital visit. I was not sure if the details were more useful than the AI-Diagnosis, but I did my best. The same questions were asked in multiple ways but finished fairly quickly and then I was shown to a waiting area outside of series of emergency exam rooms.

I waited for quite a long time before I was let back to see him. A nurse came out, called my name, and then we trailed through a maze of rooms to get to Bert. He had been moved at one point from the admitting room to a personal room. I imagined that he felt like a king in a castle with regular meals and servants. We knew that was not the way it was but it was an enjoyable fable, for a moment at least. The lights were dimmed and the shades were drawn nearly shut. Over Bert’s forehead was a tiny series of lights illuminating the room but not interfering with his rest. The room has a small bay-like window with a large TV, closet, and sleeper couch. The environmental conditioning had the room cool and a faint lavender smell that masked the hospital cleaners. Everything in the hospital was very nice quality but not modern or high definition tech. After I was in and settled the nurse left, and I approached my friend.

He laid peacefully under blankets and sunk deep into the pillows. His lap tray had an untouched glass of water and a wet washcloth folded on the corner. His eyes were closed and the layered blankets raised and lowered with his deep breaths. I placed my hand on his shoulder and stood beside his bed. His mask was sitting beside him on the bed and small tubes were in his nose giving him a small amount of oxygen. “I am sorry Bert,” I muttered quietly. In between the beeps and oxygen pumps, Bert cleared his throat and mumbled back at me. “What Bert?” I questioned. “…Mermermeyphhh…” I followed up with another inquiry. “Merrmerrmerrmumpffff.” He insisted. I leaned into him and inquired again. My ear was next to his mouth so that I could decipher what he was trying to say. Then as clear as ever he whispered. “I can talk – goof. Thank you for being here.” He chuckled a little with a cough and I smirked. “You’re an ass,” I said but was glad to hear his voice. He was one of those people that you felt like you had known much longer than you had in actuality. Moments like those seemed to bring people together. Stress, seems to be a cement to friendships at times. With that, he dozed off again.

I sat with my eyes closed for a while. The nurse came back in after a while and checked in, “He was given some meds that may make his sleep a bit. Ummm… Will you be here at dinnertime?” She asked. “I am pretty sure that I am not going to leave my friend, unless I need to… ” I said. “No, no… stay… I will put an order for two dinners. It will be around 5 PM.” She stated. “Thank you so much,” I replied. She exited and closed the door. I looked at the clock and was amazed at how long we had been in the hospital. The clock read 2 PM. I stirred in the chair and contemplated the next several hours. I thought about surfing the TV web or watching a show but decided to take advantage of the fresh air. The last few weeks had given me a desire to explore and to see the outside, the world around me. Even places that I had been, looked differently now. I found myself thinking about the stories of people or reasons things were the way that they were. How things came to be…

I found myself wandering the sidewalks and decided to catch the public transit system. Since I was not paying, I had to take the red bus and stand at the back in the general area. A few years ago, there was a movement to get people onto the bus line to encourage people to travel and eliminate some emissions. I spontaneously decided to head back to where I had been staying. Before… I hopped several of the busses throughout the afternoon to get back near Samuel’s. I didn’t have anything with me, since my bag was at the hospital. I didn’t anticipate the current travel I was doing. It was one of the free thoughts that led me around town. I got to the complex and it was an awakening reality. My memories flashed back and my escape came over me with some shame. I pulled at the door and realized it was open. I wondered why that was since I had kept it locked. I assumed that is was left during my episodes but that was shot down when I made it to the room.

The room had been processed. While I anticipated as much, the truth was still harsh and stung. I opened the door and it had been completely renovated. The journals were gone. The laptop… the photographs were all gone. My heart sunk and I was ashamed of my actions. I was upset with how I had gotten to that point. I wasn’t in the right, and I knew that, but placed multiple scenarios in my mind that ended differently. I imagined scenario after scenario but each one crashed with my current reality. I walked around the apartment one time, in hopes that a journal, a photo, a piece of Samuel’s story was left. Let down, and beaten, I walked out of the apartment and left it as I had found it: processed, empty, and storyless. The hallway seemed longer and the smells of the old building seemed heavier than I remembered while staying there. I hopped the red bus again and slowly made my way back to the hospital area. It was now 04:30 according to the sign I passed near the hospital.

I made it back into the building and found my way back to Bert’s room. He was still asleep when I arrived. I sat in the chair and pulled out my phone. I looked around the room and found a public wireless charger. I opened the texting app and typed one message. I felt responsible and decided to get all of my guilt and shame out at the same time. To Valerie, I wrote: ” Valerie. I am sorry. A friend of mine is in the hospital, I am with him for now. I am sorry that I disappeared. I will find you soon.” I sent the text and saw the read receipt. I turned the phone to do-not-disturb and placed it on the charger on the bedside table. It was an older – and slower one but beat my current options. I had the cables to charge my phone, but not the wall adaptor. Universal wireless would do the trick. I had just set my phone down and climbed into the chair when there was a knock.

Promptly near 5PM the hospital staff pushed in a cart with two cafeteria-style place settings. The lady smiled and pushed the cart to me and took one of the trays to Bert’s lap table. She seemed so kind and had such a delicate voice. “We had a dinner meal, but we also had some lunch leftovers. We thought you may be hungry.” She had a smile that could be seen regardless if she had a mask on or not. She was an elderly woman, sort of reminding me of the grandma I imagined living down the street that greeted everybody. “You are so kind, ma’am… thank you… so-so much.” A bit of warmth started in my center and radiated back as a smile.

I pulled open the entree plate and saw a Salisbury steak. A heaping pile of potatoes was surrounded with mixed vegetables and a small side of ice cream. To the left was a gently wrapped club sandwich, which I presumed was lunch from today. I picked up my fork and cut off a corner of the steak. I did not taste the foodservice quality. Instead, I tasted the mushroom gravy. I pushed my tongue to the fork tines and sucked the bite off. The meal couldn’t have tasted better if it was prepared by some personal chef. In fact, to me, between their generosity and the fact this was a full hot meal, I felt as if it was from a fancy establishment. I sat the fork down and turned on the television. It has been so long since I watched regular satellite, I didn’t know where to begin. I was only aware of my world, right now, so I stopped at the local news broadcast. I cut more of the steak off and savored bite after bite. As I watched the news, the food must have enticed Bert. He awoke and sat up slowly in the bed. “I got you food… again.” He chuckled and so did I.

Bert stirred and pulled himself from his sunken bed position. I sat my plate down and moved over to him to help him get situated. He sniffed the aroma and pointed his nose towards the ceiling. He looked back towards the plate as I uncovered the steak swimming in a gravy pool. “Looks delicious…” He snickered with a cough and ended up wheezing instead. I sat the dish topper on the bed and he scooted the table closer to himself. He handled the silverware and made a large cut into the steam with his fork. With a dancing motion, he swirled the meat in the gravy and scooped a bite of the sides on the the meat. He made a humming sound as if announcing his like to the world. “I assume you approve?” I baited him. With a mouthful, he sort of chipmunked his cheeks before replying. “I am the one in the hospital bed – I think I can enjoy it.” He was right, of course, and I nodded with agreement. I sat back down in the chair and resumed my dish as well. After a long moment, we took turns hiccuping. The sides were dipped in our gravy and the plates were practically licked clean. The nurse checked back in and took our finished dishes away. Just like Bert, I saved my lunch sandwich and granola, out of habit. I had started his habits while living with him for the last couple of weeks.

Shortly after the nurse left, a doctor came in and greeted us. He checked the screens and scrolled through a tablet’s files. “How are you feeling?” The middle-aged man asked. His hair was thinning and his glasses rested upon his nose. His see-through mask showed his serious manner. Sometimes a mask left some friendly imagination, but it was clear this time that was not the case. His mannerisms were factual and on target with his job. There was not a lot of frills with him. He asked several analysis type questions and Bert answered, but then came back with the loaded question on both of our minds. “So why did I go down like a dead body, eh – doc?” He looked directly into the doc’s face. “The AI reports show some general malnutrition combined with some mild tachycardia. I will know more when some tests come back. I suspect that those are at play here – but it an acute heart attack spawned from…” he paused for a second, “a lifestyle now or some time ago.” “Sounds great doc – can you tell me what that means in my language – not that jibber-jabber…” Bert, proud of himself, grinned ear to ear. The doctor smirked and looked over to me, then back at Bert. “In short, you have some opportunities with your diet. A lifetime of hard treatment to your body has caught up with you a little bit… and your heart shows some irregularities.” “Well, that’s all? Could’ve just said that.” Bert winked at me. At that moment, I realized that he was like a father/grandfather type mentor to me. I had grown close to my new friend. “Let’s get you some rest, finish our diagnostics, and then get you on your feet again. Maybe a couple of days… what I am expecting, anyways.” The doctor stated. He finished entering his notes and bid us a good evening. Bert and I both showed a physical sigh and tried to relax as best we could.

“Bert…” I started and paused until he looked at me. “I am sorry that this has happened to you. I know… I just met you… and I have a shit-storm of my own things going on… but you have helped me see some things…” I humbled myself. “Kid… You don’t have to be sorry. I have led a bumpy road to get here. God knows, I most likely have whatever, ” he shrugged, ” coming. And it is what it is. You seem like a bright young man. Notice I said seem…” “Well, you seeeeeeeem to be an arse.” I mockingly snapped back. “Since I am dying… apparently… humor me – why did you hit rock bottom?” He scooted up to listen in. My mind became a racetrack with each memory zooming by the finish line at a race. “I just… just lost who I was. I was so wrapped up in a world I had created for myself – and saw life from a different lens… It was then like everything in the old life left or was left…” I trailed off. “What does the future hold?” He fired back with genuine curiosity. “I… I don’t know…” I stuttered. Bert nodded in a sort of passive manner. “You need to be comfortable in whatever, Jacob. The thing about my life – and what I have chosen – is that I am used to being adaptive. Things happen… I react… I cannot lose myself for every hiccup….” He paused for effect, “I do plan when I can, but I have learned to appreciate some of the things the world passes by… I think that is one of my favorite things… I have learned to appreciate simplicity.” Bert told his story. I realized he was reaching inside of himself and was speaking from his heart. I sat for a moment taking it in. His words were sage and wise. I fought myself from selling him short since he was homeless. I believed that he was worth more than that – but the prejudices were woven deep in my fabric. If he would just… but I stopped myself. The same feelings that felt that way were also tied to my old way of living and the world of expectations.

We finished our meal and our chats died down. The sky faded from light to dark as the evening set in. Shows played in the background but neither of us paid much attention to them. You could catch us engaging for brief moments but gazing through the walls in the next moments. The nurses would come in and check on us when they made their rounds. I wondered what Bert was thinking. I reflected, “What am I thinking?” The reality of life seeped in and tore through me like a dam breaking. All of a sudden, I felt anxiety, sadness, anger swirling in confusion. For the first time in a couple of weeks, I did not have a plan. I had not needed one. I followed Bert around or studied interactions of people. I watched people wearing masks, hurriedly move from Point A to Point B. People would be engrossed in technology and wandered across the sidewalks and into the streets missing the crosswalks. People were so distracted that they could not be people. I was one of them.

What did I want life to look like? I was sure that my job was lost, although I was not upset by that idea. I had learned how to be reassured. Since I lived without money… without a home… no food regularly… I had grown comfortable with some new concepts. “Life will provide.” My Dad would say it in trying times, but it never resonated with me, until now. Sometimes, especially after Easter or regular church attendance, he would say “God,” instead. It would not have mattered until now, anyway, but I was glad that I had made that connection. I was glad to add meaning to a saying that reminded me of my father and brought me some comfort as I stared over. Bert was resting his eyes.

I started to develop a plan. It was a rough one, but a plan. I drafted it and refined it several times while I was sitting staring at the plain television with images that I had no context for. I needed to get a job… well, I backtracked, I need a house first. I thought about Maggie, but the streets seemed to be more appealing. Valerie crossed my mind but I firmly acknowledged that it was not her place. I had some money, in savings, so I was very blessed in that sense, but it felt awkward… like I had not earned it. I didn’t have to walk a mile for a meal or piece things together to make a safe space. It was ridiculous, I thought to myself, but still was a very real feeling for me now. I followed rabbit trails for some time until I started to feel heavy. I leaned back into the chair, reclined, and looked up at the ceiling until I didn’t see it any longer.

In the middle of the night, I awoke with a panic. Cold chills ran down my spine and nausea spilled into my gut. A sickness ran all throughout my body. A cold sweat beaded and the air circulating sent shivers through my body. The dam broke in that moment. It did not feel like it did earlier – it was real. I realized that the cops were looking for me – and that I wouldn’t have a chance to do or say anything. I convinced myself that I was going away for life. Albeit, not true, nor realistic, it was my current reality of feelings. What was I going to do – would I need to flee and be on the run for the rest of my life? No, I couldn’t do that – I made the mistake, I would live with it. Heck, I was determined to turn myself it. Get it out of the way. The thoughts went on for hours until my body gracefully shut down and I fell back asleep. The rest of the night was filled with bizarre dreams and non-related imaginary scenarios. I was convinced that my worry activated my imagination.

The morning sun shot through the window and cracked my determined eyelids open. Before long the morning was started and just like it was not that long ago watching a city – the hospital came alive. The nurses resumed frequent checks and parades of noise blared down the halls. Bert was lucky to have a reprieve from the sun but did wake to marching bands in the hallway. “I’m up… I am up… the docs could find another way…” He muttered obnoxiously. No sooner than he sat up in bed, a breakfast cart came in. We prepared and sat down to eat. The food tasted like it was from a hotel or buffet but we did not mind or notice too much. I was sure the sausages pinged as we inhaled them and the oatmeal was so thick it was almost chewy. The sweet apple-cinnamon filled our tummies and tasted like dessert. Shortly after breakfast we cleaned up then they took Bert for some tests.

“We are going to scan his heart and monitor his electrical activity. You are welcome to come back…” A young heavy-set nurse said to us. As I followed them back, I thought through the list of things I needed to do… I stayed back with him for an hour or so when I needed to use the restroom. I left the room and navigated the hallway mazes. I found the restroom and coffee pot and wandered the hallways passing the room we were being kept in. The room should have been empty but I saw an arm sitting in the chair by the door. My curiosity got the best of me. I rounded the corner to sneak a peak in…

“SH*T… YOU…VALERIE!” I couldn’t help but yell in excitement. I was elated, Valerie was there. She stood up and glared at me. An evil squinted that cut through me. Tears filled in both our eyes and safety that I had forgotten engulfed the room and wrapped its arms around me. Valerie pulled me close and we embraced in a hug. She pulled back as Bert came around the corner in his bed. It did not matter, the next moves were choreographed without an audience to worry about. Her hand wide open struck my cheek and knocked my head sideways.

“Dickhead.” She said in an I told you so tone.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 20)

Continued from chapter 19 of the Devastation Series.

The fire dimmed down as the night went on. The smell of charred wood and burnt brush filled the air. The smoke. typical of many campfires, followed you. I got frustrated since it happened to me several times. We would cough then the stream would shift and that repeated any time we moved. Cool drafts crossed my path a few times then changed with the winds. The lighting flickered and cast an orange and yellow overtone as the coals burned a deep white. The crickets were chirping and a locust intermittently sounded. An Owl “who’d” and coyotes cackled in a pack somewhere in the distance. I was sure that I saw glowing eyes a couple of times but the flames kept everything away.

When I awoke in the middle of the night the fire was running low. We had used a large portion of the fuel pile, but still had plenty to keep the fire going all night. The night was crisp and clear. I reminded myself, that I was shivering under a rainstorm not so long ago. I got to my knees and waddled over to the fire. The charcoal popped and snapped and the heat intensified when I had gone too close. I could feel the warmth on my skin like I was baking over a spit when I reached in. I took a long stick and adjusted the embers. I grabbed a couple more pieces of fuel and angled them over the glowing logs at the bottom of the pit. As I gently stirred the fire the ashes danced in the rising air. The small glowing particles looked like fairies climbing higher in the sky. I cleared my throat and sat back. I could smell the smoke on me, and I felt like it was a part of the price for today. It was authentic. I stoked the fire a couple of times, before settling into my spot.

I had a padded down area which was soft grass. The earth wasn’t too cold and the grass made nice cushion. My bag rested against the tree as a lumpy pillow. When I slid back into the grooved seat, I noticed Bert was up. “Hey, Bert…” I said coughing through from the extra smoke. “Jake…” He replied in a monotone. His age showed by the fire. Deep wrinkles from a harder life were bold by the shadows of the night fire. His beard looked whiter and grayer in the evening light with the ends yellowed slightly. Bert stared far away into the moonlit sky. It was evident that he was contemplating something to himself. The clouds made a small cut out of the moon. “What do you think about when you… go off… like that?” The timing just felt right. “Tell me something… What do you know of life – the roads?” He asked. “Well… that is a loaded question, I think… I have been focused on the wrong things, thus ending here…” I scooted and straightened my posture.

“So this is your rock bottom?” He inquired. “Well, when you put it that way… uh… I guess, sort of…” I involuntarily shrugged with the answer. “I was not always a streets guy…” He cleared his throat, sipped his glass, and continued. We would up spending several hours covering: Life Stories. I leaned into what he was saying as he started from the beginning… “I used to be like you. Heavy on the bottle when things were not going well. I had a family once too. I grew up poor. Not we ate rice and beans every night poor, but there were no frills. No extras. We had a roof and had outside. Things were not as they are now. My father lived through the original waves. I could not imagine then…” He paused and took a deep breath. Like he was preparing for a storm or something. “I too enjoyed the bottle. Too much. I was a successful salesman, drone sales, specifically. As they became more public, the market was booming. I made a ton… I had a lot of work parties – sales celebrations… each of those moments were away from my family. I chased the things. I wanted the best this and the best that… but in the end – it would rust or break. And like the things, my family disintegrated over time…” He continued and shared examples. We traveled down memory lane and when he smiled, it was so full that I could almost feel that moment of joy. “When I lost my family, I gave up on the world. The stuff… the… stuff… I got rid of it all. Gave it all away. Been liv’n out here every since. And while it’s not easy and not for everyone – I have found me and aside from my family being missing… I enjoy myself. For the most part…” He was convincing when he spoke. Authoritative, assertive, and compelling… “Jake… now I want to know about you. Everything out here has a cost. Mine is equality.” He looked down, adjusted his position and I wondered where to begin.

I began with the loss of my mom. I explained the freakish nature of it how my family, too, grew apart. I explained all of the details as I remembered them and could only hope that I articulated the feelings into words. That’s the thing about a story. It’s just a narrative if we miss the emotion. The story is what painted the feelings for others to see, to feel. I explained my prior relationship – how I started to think differently. The poor decisions that I made with work, Samuel, and my desire to know more. I spent a lot of time enamoring over Samuel and how that life event not only changed his life but mine as well. I explained the recent loss of my dad and that I made a new friend. Bert took all of it in like a psychiatrist presiding over a client on his couch. “So tell me more about this… Valerie…” He said in a mischievous tone. It was the kind of comment that a father would make to his child. A mocking, but a serious inquiry. “I don’t know… She was someone that I met and was with me when Dad passed.” I plainly stated. “I see.” He raised his voice an octave, out of character for him. The minutes continued to fly by and my eyes grew heavy upon finishing my glass. Our conversation naturally dwindled and I drifted off. I was pretty sure that Bert did the same, but I did not watch him. The fire was stoked one last time and the warmth cut the night chill. I folded back into my spot and could see the flickering under my eyelids. I imagined Valerie in my mind’s eye. I wished that I could be sitting on the couch at the apartment. I did not feel unsafe with Bert, out in the woods. But I did feel safe with her. There was something else that I couldn’t grasp yet.

I woke up and was surprised to see the morning so well underway. I felt a weight in my pocket and pulled out my phone. It was on and fully charged. I was sure that I had left it in my bag but attributed it to a couple too many and night boredom. Bert had already packed up and impatiently was waiting to go. He seemed to be very withdrawn and not as I remembered him. I wondered if what I told him last night changed his views towards me. I wondered if I had crossed a line that even he had not crossed. After several pleasantries on my part, I gave up. I appreciated what we had the prior night. I appreciated the ability to just tell my story. It was one of the first times that I walked through it, fairly sequentially and out load.

The camp area was dismantled. It did not even look like we had a fire the night before, I was impressed. I thought he must clean up after himself so that it’s not as obvious that he used the property. Bert was very cognizant of the cost of things – and appreciating the things he had or was able to use. It was obvious, even in his small room, in the building. As I finished packing up, he started to walk back to the city. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and started to follow up. His long strides stayed well in advance of mine. While he maintained a distance, I started recounting all of the things that had happened to me over the last week or so. I started from the beginning… Life was trying to teach me something and it was just dawning on me to pay attention. Since we had a long walk back and talking appeared to be out of the question, I traveled my timeline.

My thoughts scattered but I have attended to each of them. What was it that I wanted? What was it that defined Jake? I recalled the life that I was leading. It was a 9-5 life where all of my needs were met, so I thought at the time. It was obvious that I was missing companionship. All of my identity seemed to be in things. My stories revolved around a new gadget or something that Maggie and I had done to the house. We had a very SMART house and led that kind of life. What did Samuel do to me? What was it that intrigued me so much about the survival aspect? I realized that it was the realness of life around me, not the things that made my life easier. I missed cooking. There is something to be said for gardening and harvesting your own crops. The art of living was lost to tech some time ago, and I think I was lost with it. My dad was on to something, and Samuel showed me that. Of course, I also desperately wanted to see how it ended for Samuel. I think it was a form of closure – proof that it all worked out.

I worked through several things on that walk while Bert. He stayed a long way ahead of me. I realized that I was confined in some ways, and all of this was me just breaking out of some sort of shell that I have surrounded myself with or in. Simple things mattered. I felt an increasing amount of guilt and sorrow surrounding my father. I wrestled with the fact that he was gone and there was nothing that I could do to mend the gap that had grown over the years. I was angry that Maggie kept him from me, not sharing his letters or letting me know that he wished to visit. All of this time… I shut it down as quickly as it started; I too, should have reached out. And if I should have done that – I would have seen the gaps sooner. I was foolish.

The trees began to bend and sway while the thunder roared with the light flashing in the sky. I was amazed at how quickly the storm came upon us. It was light, hardly any clouds in the sky and now sirens were echoing in the distance. “What is going on?” I asked myself. “Hey, Bert! Wait up!!!” I shouted over the clashing, whooshing, and banging from mother nature. He did not hear me and kept walking. “Bert!!!” I heard myself groan and picked up the pace. I knew that I needed to be closer to him so that he could hear me. The gusts of wind blew me side to side with the backpack over my shoulder throwing my balance off. I staggered and stepped forward as if my feet were covered in concrete. I imagined quicksand would be a similar experience as well; a lot of effort for small strides. “Bert!” I called out to him again. I must have either been loud enough or close enough because he stopped in his tracks. He continued facing forward as I caught up. As I got closer he looked slightly different. In fact, it did not look like Bert at all… He abruptly turned and thunder crashed, it was my father! I stammered back and fell with another bolt of lightning. I jarred awake.

I exhaled loudly and jumped forward from my seat. My heart was racing and my eyes crazily scanned the surroundings to determine where I was… Bert’s reflex ended with his hand on my shoulder. Bert later told me that my eyes were widened, and my body was shaking. I had called out in my sleep and I was breathing like I was hyperventilating. “Jake – hey… it’s okay, you’re okay…” Bert said in a comforting tone that I had not heard before. His arm was still on my shoulder. “What the f***… where?!?” I managed to get out. “We are at the tree… We spent the evening chatting it up…” Bert reassured as the thunder clashed across the sky again. “You called out Valerie earlier and then Dad before you jolted… started the hell outta me.” He paused and looked up, “It does look like rain though…” “I don’t know what just happened…” I said exasperatedly. I explained the dream to Bert in fine detail. He nodded and listened to my tale. “Sounds like you have some deep-rooted things going on in your life, bud…” Bert said after a long pause. He turned around and sized up the current sky situation. The clouds were blowing in and the lightning increased. The thunder began to roll and I reflected momentarily on my dream. My dad was far gone and I just wasn’t able to get him back… I had more of the onion to peel back. I wondered how – when?!?

We stirred the fire and prepared for the inevitable rain. It was a ways off, but coming soon. Bert dug madly in his bag and pulled out one of the survival kits. It was impressive how he had just the right things at the right times. He strung up a clothesline like a cord from a couple of branches. He pulled a foil shaped packet from a small pouch and proceeded to unfold the square which doubled in size each unfold. It was an emergency thermal blanket that also acted as a barrier to rain. As he finished stringing it up the breeze carried the mist across my face. “What do you think it all meant?” Bert asked. “What – the dream?” I questioned. “Yes Jake, the dream, I believe things that happen do for a reason. We are to learn something and it will come to you in every form able until you get the intended message.” He explained. I gazed out through the fire which was a little smaller in size. The tree blocked most of the fire from the water, but enough made it through so the fire shrank. The heat was welcomed by us during the downpour. I did not see Bert move the fuel, but it was out of the main downpour. He tossed a couple of small logs in so that we could keep the fire hot enough. “What time do you think it is?” I looked towards Bert. “Does it matter? Will that change anything?” He mockingly inquired, “I imagine it is around 4 AM… There is a slight light along the horizon.” He pointed to the distance. I followed his fingers with my eyes. I continued my story from earlier. Firing hypothetical after hypothetical… walking through all of the ideas… there were lessons somewhere in there, I was sure of it.

“Everything has some form of balance, Jake. You were really into your superficial life… Your dad was far in the other direction. You are experiencing something to understand another view. You have some guilt with your dad… You have something inside of you that you need to figure out with this Valerie. Well, all of it really.” Like a wise old man, he stated ideas like he was reading the summary to a group of notes. He was right… about all of it. It would take time until it really set in, but he had watered the planted seeds. I leaned back and looked up. I took his words in and replayed the dream fragments that I could remember. His thoughts were laced into mine and streamed in my mind. I closed my eyes and put my nose into the air. The wet grass and smoke ash filled my nostrils. “Why does it have to be so… hard?” I muttered, trailing off. Bert snapped over to look at me. He paused then stared right past me. He then laid back against the tree as the water began to fall heavily from the sky. It sounded like BB’s were dropped from above when the rain began to come down. “Lessons should be memorable.” He proclaimed. With that, he looked the other direction and we both sat isolated in the rain. I rested again, for several hours while the storms came in and left.

After a long silence, Bert called over to me “C’mon…” and he gestured down towards the pond. The rain beat down upon us as we found the stick holding the lines we tied up last night. He pulled the first set in and it was empty. He cleaned off the worms and wrapped the hooks into a small stick that he picked up. The second line was taught and gave quite the resistance while being brought in. As he pulled the last hook out of the water a silver shimmering head dove back into the water and tail splashed out of the pond. Bert, who was thrilled, gave out a sort of hoot and holler as he hand reeled in the line, wrapping it around another stick. Finally, when the head appeared under the surface again, Bert forked his fingers and pulled the fish out by the gills. “Carp!” He said grinning ear to ear.

Bert ended up cleaning the fish and dumping the remains beside the lake. “Food for the other animals.” He said, rinsing off his hands in the water. The rain-soaked us, but rinsed off everything too. He ended up cutting two large fillets off the fish and wrapping them in aluminum foil that was folded up in his bag as well. He took several larger sticks and made a makeshift grate in the fire placing the wrapped meat on the logs. Every so often he would flip and turn the packages until he thought they were just right. He pulled one off and opened the foil enough to see the fish was done. “Here,” he said after it cooled down a bit, “it’s a bit boney but good protein and vitamins.”

He was right, the carp had many fine bones in it – but the chewiness didn’t turn my hunger away. The fish slid over my tongue with a warm and wild taste. The fillet was filling and not too heavy. Each of us refilled our glass and finished off the bottle. We had drunk more than I remembered the night before, but I was glad to not have the bottle anymore. It was nice to casually sip the drink with a meal, though. My small bites, allowed for my stomach to feel full by the time that I finished. There was no salt. No sugar. Nothing processed about the meal and strangely it was just as satisfying. Sure, tartar sauce would be a welcomed addition, but it was not a necessity for life at this moment. I leaned back against the tree, thanked Bert, and enjoyed the disappearance of hunger.

After a couple of hours, the rain died down. The overhang on the tree kept the fire and us mostly dry. The fire was weakened by all of the water but we kept it warm enough that it held its own. Our conversations dwindled for some time while we both took all of it in. I imagined Bert walking through his life events as I was mine. A person could have caught either of us looking into the beyond as we lost ourselves in daydreams. When only a brief mist was left, Bert cleaned up the fire area, and let it die out. He stacked the remaining fuel beside the tree we were sitting at and started packing. He took down our canopy and shook it out before putting it away. “I’ll dry it out later…” he said at me while folding it nicely into a bag. He pulled out two garbage bags from the side of his backpack and handed me one. “Poncho.” He stated.

After finishing tidying the area, almost as is we were never there, we tossed our bags over our shoulders and without verbal communication, started heading back. In a way, it reminded me of my dream. I assumed that we would be heading back to where we stayed the prior night. I spent the next several hours admiring the world around me as I walked beside Bert in and out of alleys, side streets, and sidewalks. He walked a much slower pace than he had to start. It was as if he was in a fog. I think we both were actually, looking back. I think we learned something within ourselves, from each other. Several of the points stung when I rehashed them or discovered them. There were moments that I felt like a complete failure but I continued my stride forward anyway. We did engage in some small talk, from time to time, but mostly, we walked through mental fields and harvesting thoughts and memories by ourselves. An occasion rain cloud would stroll by and sprinkle on us – but we were able to casually continue home… if that is what you could call it.

We arrived back in the neighborhood early evening. Before we settled in, we walked over to a small church, closer than last time, and got a bowl of soup. It was not much – but my stomach was thankful, never-the-less. We said our thanks and wandered back to his place, taking a long way. “You never told me,” I questioned as we approached the building, “how did you find that place? Or what made you go think to look?” “Jake… As I said, I was not always homeless. The property was in my family for a long time. I know the owner and he agreed that I can come out. The cost: clean up after myself, and keep the waters trash free as best I can. Everything is connected, Jake. If you remember one thing from me. Remember that. Everything depends on everything and everything has a cost.” I was amazed, to say the least. This man had so many stories to tell. If I didn’t know any better, I would think that he chose this life…

We got back inside and passed several of his neighbors. Each with a nodded greeting or small wave. As the evening pressed on the fire was lit again in the trashcan. The rain started again and the draft was intense as it passed through the barrier-less floor. We huddled around the can, taking turns warming our hands. The straggling nomads wandered in from the streets and took turns drying off and warming up. Bert and I didn’t talk much the rest of the night, but I asked if I could stay with him again and he agreed. The cost: company and assist with things as I was able. We continued this life for the next several weeks. I forgot about work. I didn’t yearn for the fanciful life that I was accustomed to. I missed some people though, but I was surely forgotten by now.

I lost track of the dates but followed as best I could with signage and digital displays. On a Friday, I was walking around town with Bert. It was a strange day, with an odd feeling about it. We had just finished breakfast when everything would change. Bert was quieter than normal and I didn’t push him. We rounded the corner to walk into the city and Bert froze. His arms stiffened and legs went limp. He reached to his sides like he was expecting guide-rails. Then with one motion, he thumbed his chest clutching at his shirt like he was going to rip it off. As if his soul was stripped from his body he fell straight to the ground with a thud. I was frantic and waved my arms above my head. I called out for help and asked passers-by for a hand. No one would pay any attention. Even the drones, programmed to take action, dismissed all of my actions. It was as if we didn’t exist. Out of habit, I reached into my pocket for my phone. Then I realized that I did still have it. I tore through my bag and powered the Lynx up. It alerted me to one bar of battery left, as it flashed at me. 9-1-1.

“Help… My friend has had a heart attack or something.”

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 19)

Continued from chapter 18 of the Devastation Series.

=== Author’s Note === As the story twists and turns, let me know what you think. What is going to happen to Jake? Bert? What about Valerie? I imagine the lessons that he is learning as ideas I should be learning. The neat thing about writing is that you do… sort of… get to experience some of the feelings and emotions. So much so, that at times I have had to walk away from the story for a bit – since I needed to force a detach. Again, thank you for reading and I enjoy writing this so much. I have always desired to complete a full-length novel and dag-nab-it… I am doing it. Thanks for your patronage. ww. joe === ===

I was startled awake. I was being jarred from the man’s boot as he kicked my sleeping sack. He was not attempting to hurt me, but it was obvious that he had some message that he wanted to convey immediately. It was early and the birds had just started waking the world. “Get up, we need to go.” He barked. I was starting to see that he conveyed short messages and had grown distant from warm pleasantries. I really did not like his subtleties in that sense but overall his to the point was a welcomed addition. I widened my eyes and rubbed my face. I sat up and squinted to see him. “Yeah, what’s up – everything ok?” I inquired. “Food.” He said, again to the point. Normally I would have some waking ritual. In one life, I would have had Alexa make my coffee, read me the news, and start the shower when I needed that extra jolt. It was a routine that I had grown accustomed to and repeated the steps mainly out of a comfortable habit. Comfortable habits. The phrase resonated with me. Yet, none of that seemed to matter right now. I caught myself clenching my stomach with the intense pain of emptiness. My current concerns were much more meaningful and important. Not to an on-time start of the day, but the basic pyramid of survival and then possibly some concern for humanity. Thoughts and hunger pains came crashing into my mind. I only managed to squeak out, “Ok… I am up… what?!?” As I got to my knees and stood up I felt even more aches and pains. I realized, that even in Samuel’s apartment, I was on some form of memory foam topped cushions. “I don’t have any food, or know where to go or what to do, ” I groggily stated at the man. His blank stare and the cold response had “newbie”, “rookie”, and “you are not going to make it” all baked into one look.

“Come with me,” he said. With that, I followed him. We exited the building and walked out into the empty streets. It was evident that he was going somewhere. “So, I am sorry… Can I get your name?” He didn’t miss a step and turned, talking at me sideways. “Bert.” “Bert, I am Jake…It’s nice to…” I was cut off. “I am not a talking type.” he professed. And with that, I continued following him through the streets, sidewalks, and alleys. I struggled to keep up, while I coordinated my body from the hangover. We stopped at a church building, I am guessing it was a 1/2 mile away. Sweat started to bead on my forehead as I worked out more than I had in quite some time. His pace was a fast walk and more than my scrawny self was used to – especially at that hour. The sun was not even on the horizon yet, the city was still stirring. I am guessing it was around 5 AM. “Here,” he stopped and gestured towards the entrance of a old church. We walked up a small set of stairs into the lobby. I imagined this was where the congregation caught up in small fellowship and the seasoned people pounced on the couple that looked new. I hated those visits.

We walked down a long corridor with white Jesus paintings in different story narratives. We passed a large set of doors that lead to the sanctuary. The church appeared to be an older one with pews and benches. They didn’t have any modern holograms or any multi-dimensional projectors installed. The smell of old fabric and musty building carried in the air. There was also the hint of mothballs and old-man cologne or old lady perfume that lingered. We continued down the hallway to a small set of doors in the back. A modest-sized kitchen was on the other side followed by a small dining hall. The sweet aroma of oats, sausage, and maple syrup invaded my nose as I turned the corner. My stomach growled uncontrollably like a rabid dog seeing a cat.

I was standing beside Bert at this time, and caught the eye of a middle-aged man, appearing well off, as I was introduced. “Todd, this is a new guy… names, Jake.” He said as an introduction. The gentleman approached me, shook my hand, and welcomed me. It was a warm welcome, but not so warm that I would want to run from the forced love. Bert walked up to the side of the table and motioned me to sit. He walked off into the other room as I sat at the school cafeteria-like table. Bert came back in a few moments with two heaping plates. More food on a plate than I would see on my dinner table, even on a day that I was hungry. But that was then… Now, this looked like just enough.

The tray was also a cafeteria-style and was overflowing. There was a small bowl in one of the top sections with what looked like brown sugar/maple oatmeal. A couple of pieces of fruit garnished the top. An apple and banana were cut and placed in the center section with sausage links steaming on the right. A couple of boiled eggs were on the lower left while the entree section was filled with pancakes. The pancakes were stacked so that they wobbled with an avalanche of butter streaking down the side. Syrup painted the entire stack and pooled at the base of the batter mountain. The mixture of smells made me sick to my stomach from hunger. I had never felt such a paradox of feelings at the same time. For dessert, there was a protein-packed granola bar that we wound up taking with us for that “just-in-case” moment. I imagined that it would be more about rations now.

The taste was heavenly. The landed in my empty stomach like a large boulder. The meal was warm, filling and even the warmed up sausages were delicious. Midway through the meal Todd came over to me and sat down. He asked me about life, where I was from, how long I had been living on the streets, and if I was saved. I cleared my mouth and lightly engaged. “I am new to the streets. It is something that I fell into and my faith is weary at best. It is hard right now… considering…” Todd nodded with the typical understanding and warm body language responses. I did not like being studied, feeling like every motion was being judged. I imagined it was a small price to pay for the nutrition that he provided. After a few moments of observation, he turned his attention to Bert. A small conversation formed and I head Bert talk more than I had the entire time that I had been around him. There was a relationship there, that went way beyond meals, but I could not decipher where it originated. I lost focus midway in their conversation and devoured the plate in front of me.

After several minutes the plate went from full to empty. I had hardly noticed Bert eating his plate as well. He did not finish all of it and when I looked up he was putting the rest in a small cardboard to-go box. He packed up the box and called to me, “Jake, let’s go…” And he got up with that and didn’t even look towards me. Todd met us at the door, with a small brown paper sack as well. “Thank you for the meal…” I got out before Bert left the building. “You are welcome. Our services are Sunday at 10 and 11 then a smaller service Wednesday’s at 6.” He smiled just like an usher as he opened the door. I exited and took a few hurried steps to catch up with Bert, who was several feet away now. As I scurried to catch up, I called to him, “Bert, wait up…” and without looking back he said in the wind “You have some things to learn kid.” Slightly puzzled, I inquired what did he mean? I am a grown adult. Managed a household before the divot that am currently in, held a reputable job… I wondered who he was – he was obviously not doing better… I caught myself passing judgment until I realized that I was walking in his shadow. “Bert, I appreciate your help and guidance. I do… but I do not understand what you mean by that? I mean…” “You mean what? You were sniveling in the cold rain when I pulled you into the warmth. You have this all figured out – do ya?” He was not mean by it – but a piercing sarcasm rolled off of his tongue. “Bert… I am sorry if I offended you. I am trying to understand…” I assertively pleaded. And with a scoff, we continued back across the city to the abandoned building. We walked back to his small room and he pulled out a cooler, opened the lid, and placed the leftovers and small brown bag in. “Put yours in to if ya-like.” His manners were confusing. A moment ago I had assumed he was pissed off at me and at that moment he was offering to share something. Although confused, I complied, placing my small bag inside. Bert shut the cooler and tucked it away again.

“It’s peanut butter and sometimes jelly…” He called out. I realized that he had a routine and he had some sort of cadence to himself; his way of doing things. “I have a small stash of things if you get hungry. It’s not much, but it sustains me.” He generously reassured me. “Kid – I am sorry that I have been grumpy. I don’t really dooo… people. I don’t have a lot of anything – but what I do have, is mine.” “I picked up that you’re really a teddy bear, it shows…” I smirked. “Thank you for everything. Everything is more than I have at this point…” He pursed his lips and sort of looked me up and down as if he was sizing me up. He looked away, and a glimmer flashed from the corner of his eye. “Out here – handouts usually have a cost. The church service is the admission for continued meals at the church. Almost every other day – they have a small portion to share. I am usually there, now you… A couple of people that come around here that are worth a damn… I showed them.” The assertive prideful tone was carried out from his chest. “Well… thank you…That sounds like a nice thing to do for others… You’re just showing me that teddy-bear again…” I snickered. “Don’t get used to it, ” he quickly countered. After a few minutes of slightly awkward silence, I asked him what we would do next. His reply, “Whatever we want…”

He grabbed a couple of books out from behind where he had slept. There was a small cube area, resembling a bookshelf. In it, he had a couple of books, a small flashlight, several business cards, and a picture that I could not make out. He put a few things, in his bag. I did not watch him. Bert slung his backpack over his shoulder and called to me to follow him. I decided to fit in and grabbed my backpack as well which burbled when the giant glass bottle’s liquid slushed side to side. In no longer than it took him to don his bag, he was already out of the room. When I caught up to him, he asked me. “Do you like water – or scenery?” I was slightly perplexed by the question and answered a simple “yes.” He shook his head and took a step forward like he was hiking across the plains.

The drones zoomed overhead. Our masks were around our necks and the breeze from the walk brushed against my whiskered face. It felt wrong. It had been some time since I intensionally went without a mask. Most of the time, I was in a daze and then would panic when I would realize that I was breaking the rules. The aromas of the city trickled under my nose unfiltered by some form of a mask. I sometimes forgot what organic smell was like considering that I had purifiers or odor-reducing extras in most of my masks. The dingy city, the fresh-cut grass, the trash dumpster, and soured water stirred together for a delightful paradox. The drones were actively scanning, but moved right past Bert and I. At first I assumed it was something to do with the way we walked or the angle of the scan. Until I observed several passed units scanning both Bert and myself. It was then that I realized that we had fallen off of the societal bus. I tested the theory by attracting attention to myself and even starred a military-grade drone down. Every attempt was met with the same dismissal of my presence.

We wander down side streets and alleys for nearly 30 mins. The animals didn’t move and if they did make contact it was to stake a claim of some territory. “Bert – I assume you know where you are going, right?” He looked sideways at me trailing him and pressed forward. The city became darker where we traveled. Buildings towered over the alleyways while we weaved in and out of sidewalks. I was sure that we were taking a shortcut since we followed no normal street path. The sun was approaching overhead by that time, so I guessed it was between 9 and 11. Time didn’t carry the same significance – other than the heat or potential sunburns. I flipped the collar on my shirt to cover my neck. As I became warmer, I took my overshirt off and alternated wearing it over my head as we well as a cape. The gentle wind served poetic justice as the shirt tailed behind me waving towards anyone that followed. After what seemed like miles of walking, Bert called out to me trailing. “Halfway!” I am surprised he did not say something about the “uhhhgggg” that escaped me or perhaps the eyeroll that I was sure he could feel.

The homeless stood out to me now. Sitting on corners with smeared writing on cardboard sheets or boxes. The messages ranged from help requests, job offers, and religious persuasions. All with varying levels of desperateness and honesty. One gentleman even carried a sign proclaiming to be a profit that used beer to see the future. I was certain that he was not the messiah, but did appreciate the chuckle… I concluded, at some point, why not? That question resonated with me beyond seeing that man. Bert did not act like them. I could see no evidence of begging, and if there was a sense of being desperate, it was not overtly obvious to me. Most people were scraggly, and their clothes filthy. Bert had no repulsing odor and kept a beard that was attended to from time to time. His clothes were aged and showed signs of dirt and wear but did give a hint of a lack integrity about them. It was as if he realized his place and was dressing for work each day. I became more intrigued as time went on.

The building continued to get closer and closer while the lighting dimmer and grayer. It was like doing some dungeon on a video game. Most of our weaving was through alleys and between buildings. I had lost track of where we were long ago and held on to hope that Bert was not taking me for a snipe hunt. The towering shadowy ruins were high overhead. Even daylight struggled to make itself known in these seeming depths of Mordor. “Bert, ” I called out. I felt like a whiny child on a car trip. “Just tell me you’re on plan…” His head slightly looked to the side but did not acknowledge my presence. He continued to weave and dive deeper into the distance slowly placing more distance between us. Then finally at one point, he vanished. “B-E-R-T?!?!” I hollered after him. I followed what I observed from behind; straight and a sharp left. As I rounded the corner, I saw a fence. An aged fence with daylight on the other side.

I walked closer to the opening. As if it was a doorway to a new world, the buildings disappeared. A hard stop to city life and jump to… a beautiful farm. It was like an oasis inside of the city. The breeze was strong and the blades of tall grass danced before me shimmering in the bright sunlight. Bert was standing at the fence with his hands in the links. The wall resembled a prison line and the other side was actually greener. “Beautiful… isn’t it?” He almost whispered into the wind. “I cannot believe…” but the words wandered off as quickly as they came to me. I followed Bert through a hole he opened by pulling back the links from the post. The entire fence appeared to be strong, sturdy, and intact, well until we shimmied through the slit opening.

I imagined we looked like country people that I read about in the books during high school. My hands sifted over the tops of the tall grass as we made our paths. The sun was no longer hidden or oppressive overhead. My nose tickled with all of the pollen across the open plains. Bert continued walking ahead and I continued to follow. A small pond was over the hill and a large tree beside it. The perfect tree overlooked the side of the hill. Ripples bounced over the top of the water while ducks bobbed for food while others bathed. The lush grass was trampled down around the tree and a circle lined with rocks and charcoal rested a few feet ahead. This was a common spot.

After settling in we both leaned against the tree adjacent to one another. Bert opened his bag and like Felix pulled out exactly what I was imagining at the ideal time. My stomach had started to growl as we neared the tree. Bert pulled out the two brown bags from this morning and a couple of pocket pressed granola bars that were shaped like the placement in his bag. He also pulled out two books. He looked at the spines and picked one. He gestured the other one at me, and I looked at the cover. The printing had faded from all of the miles it had traveled and the pages were randomly dog eared from being carried and multiple uses. I studied it for a moment and thought about how long it had been since I turned pages in a book. The smell of the yellowed paper and faded messages from several hand-me-downs took me back to my childhood. We sat at the pond, tree side, while the sun moved from overhead to a westernmost position. My eyes grew heavy from all of the reading and I learned back to take the cool patches of a warm breeze in. I dozed off.

It was so peaceful, sitting there. Nothing mattered in those moments. I had a strange trust for my new friend and all of my worries were in the clouds. Gray rain clouds formed in the distance and Bert and I watched as the vanished over the skyline. “Hey, Bert – shouldn’t we get back to your place?” The thought of leaving your things unattended was foreign to me. I had security cameras and digital devices to watch my digital devices. Alexa maintained a virtual inventory on a map for me, room by room. RFID did not matter out here, and it would become more apparent with the fading time. I had forgotten, by then, what time it was – or what I would have been doing not that long ago. It simply didn’t seem to matter now. Bert turned to me and addressed me face to face this time.

“There is nothing there for me, more than there is for me here. Now. What I call mine… there… is as safe as it needs to be. If someone needs it worse than me… so be it…” And with that, he shrugged and gazed over towards the horizon. It took some time for me to grasp what he meant by all of that. I began down a warped road of what-ifs and imagined things just walking off from sticky fingers. I was more worked up about it than I imagined he would be if someone took the things in front of him. It took me a long time to get over the mine-mentality.

As the night settled in, I grew concerned about how we would get back. As if he read my mind, he started talking. “We will stay here for the night Jake. We will build a fire and be just fine. We do have some work to do if you want to eat tomorrow though…” He chuckled. He must have sensed the uncertainty in my gut. “We will be fine Jake. I have done this many times.” He again dug in his bag and pulled out a couple of zip bags. The sun was behind the trees but plenty of daylight was present. Inside of the small pouches were the basic items in a survival kit. It was just like the ones that I added to my cart so many times – but never pulled the trigger on. I would never do that… I would think to myself.

He pulled out a small spool of twine and proceeded to rig up 6 fairly large hooks. “Trot-line… Jake…” He talked at me as he continued to set up. “I need you to dig for some night-crawlers… can you do that?” “It’s been a long time…” I replied. “Doesn’t change much over the years…” He grinned back at me. I got up from the formed earth that I had been resting on and walked around the outside of the pond. I overturned sticks, rocks, logs, and some lumber that was left from someone’s project long ago. I found a small styrofoam cup tucked into the weeds and placed the worms in as I found them. Their long slimy bodies stretched as I pulled them from the ground. After I had collected about a half dozen, I walked back up to the spot we were sitting at. I watched him tediously bait each hook by wrapping the large critters over the tines of the hooks. After the hooks disappeared, he stood up and walked around the pond until he found just the right spot. A small peninsula like inlet wrapped around some reeds. He tossed the hooks about ten feet into the pond and pounded a stick into the ground with a flat rock by where he was standing. He tied the other end of the twine to the stick to act as a stake or rod. “That’s that,” he said as he wiped his washed hands-off on this pant legs.

“Now – we need some wood.” We proceeded to collect armfuls of small logs and branches that we broke down into smaller kindling. We went to the homemade pit and stacked some of the wood into the center. We packed the logs with tinder and found dried branches to catch first. With the light becoming more scarce he again dug into his little kit. He pulled out a cylinder and unscrewed the top. A small flint appeared in his hands and he leaned over the pit. It was not that long until the orange glow could be seen in a dry wad of grass. He blew into the grass as bellows would to a fire. The orange twinkled in the shadows and a yellow flame popped up like magic from his hands. He carefully turned the grass to set it ablaze and lit the tinder. In a matter of minutes as the pink highlighted the sky, a small fire popped and crackled before us. The warms mild but nice in the evening air.

Bert pulled out a couple cut off soda bottles and handed me one. “Pour us a glass of your bubbly.” He said. “My what?” I inquired. “I am tired of water today and don’t feel like straining the pond. May I have a glass of whatever is burbling in your bag?” I felt silly not realizing what he meant, but was happy to oblige. It was the first time that I was excited to sip it – with someone – and enjoy the moment. Not forget the day. The large bottle was 3/4 full, and full of bubbles from all of the movement hiking across the country. I unscrewed the cap and filled his glass followed by mine. It was not chilled… but that didn’t matter. It was peaceful and everything I had imagined a get-a-way to be. Minus the homeless fugitive scenarios. After a little bit more reading, we refilled our glasses. The books were splayed open on our legs and the firelight was bright enough that we could still read. We carried a small conversation. Superficial really, but we learned about what we dream about now. Foods, movies, how tech has changed everything. We didn’t talk about who we were or how the pandemic changed us. Those conversations would happen in a short time.

We topped off our glasses, stoked the fire, enjoyed the carefree nature of the night, and dozed off against the tree. The leaves rustled in the breeze and the smell of campfire saturated the area. I felt free.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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…just married – COVID style

A COVID-19 Style Wedding, August 28, 2020.

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR! We did it. After 1 1/2 years(+) of putting up with each other, we decided to go all in. It was the right decision, and one of the happiest moments of my life, outside of the birth of my children. There have been a lot of things that I have done to weave in and out and up and down the roads of life… But this one was both calculated and aligned by forces outside of my control. Sometimes things come together and we have to appreciate all of the things that had to move or change to get to the now we are experiencing.

On August 28, 2020, I left work sick. Not sure if it was something that I had eaten or someone suggested heat exhaustion from the prior day. All of which makes sense considering there has been a lot of housework with the recent move. I had gone into work around 5 AM and came home around 9 AM. I laid in bed for a bit and Lindsay texted me from our office upstairs. “A judge can marry us tonight.” Whoa… We had sent in for a marriage license and also asked for a judge to preside over the ceremony. We assumed it would be a few days, and we would be able to pick times A, B, C… etc. When Judge McCabria got back with us, it was sudden. Tonight. After pondering for a few moments, I sent a text back… “Lez do-wit!” And so it began.

Jan 26, 2019, we met and have been perusing each other every since. April 30th, I had written a proposal letter to Lindsay, “Q”, that I didn’t want to start May without her as my fiance. She accepted and we continued merging our lives. (Hey, when you have a lot of baggage, you have to do some sorting, LOL.) So, right after her text, I ran around town to pay the ceremony fee at the courthouse and we continued our day. We even took a nap. Looking back it’s funny. We were getting married that evening and said – hey let’s rest. At 5 PM, she put on her dress. I put on my suit jacket. We prettied up and organized our living room. We needed to get the right angle for the laptop since we were being married over a Zoom meeting. We took a few moments to light some candles, and decorate a little. And at 05:30 PM, our witnesses, the judge and Lindsay and I logged into the meetings. You can watch it here, or below…

youtube

We had the ceremony and recorded it. Only 6 minutes to change our lives legally and forever. So – despite the COVID and despite all the obstacles – we did it. We are making a life – hell-or-high-water. We are making it… As we both say, “It’s what we do…”

So over this Labor Day weekend, I hope you can pause. Take a moment to reflect on the things that led up to now. There are great things that have aligned. There are terrible things that have taken place. But each of them led to the results you are living in. You had a path that got you to now… right now… even reading this post. Call it divine intervention or call it “The Butterfly Effect” (which I think you should watch the movie and watch Sliding Doors while you are at it – oh and watch About Time ). You do not have to be a religious person to count your blessing. And friends, we are blessed. The politics will go away (sure we may be a communist or fascist nation by then), but you will still have memories. There will be good times. There will be loved ones along the way. Maybe you have had a rough day or maybe a rough week, hell, a year even… Take today off, prop your feet up, and celebrate. Do something that you like to do. Enjoy a moment (or two).

As always, WW.

joe.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 18)

===** Author’s Note **=== Thank you for being patient with me and continuing to read/follow the story. I moved twice over the last month and a half. Once from my apartment to Q’s and then Q and I both moved to a home we have selected together. A lot of organizing, boxing, moving, unboxing, and organizing to be had by all!

But this book means a lot to me. It is a part of my break out into the writing world. A serious one, where I take all that I have learned about publishing and start using it. Please share a chapter that you like with someone that you think would enjoy it. I appreciate each one of you. Again, thank you for reading. And as always, w.w. ~joe ===

Continued from chapter 17 of the Devastation Series.

I awoke several times during the period that I passed out. It was more of a brownout than blackout; it was hard to sleep with the city noises. Animals would bounce around the alley until they saw me. A raccoon waddled off, an opossum stopped at the alley entry, but an alley cat jumped up on the dumpster. The cat was very familiar with people. He recognized me for what I was but didn’t care about me being there. He had seen my type before. His desire to fit in was long gone through his days on the streets. His rough coat was striped, but it was too dark to make out what color. Tabby, I assumed. When I clicked my tongue at him, he only paused for a second. He then went back into his search for his next meal. I thought about a cat that I had when I was a young boy. Titus was a short-haired gray cat that just wanted to be with his people. I remembered the affection. I wondered if this cat was someone’s Titus once.

Titus would follow his family around the house and brush against the doorways, legs, or toys in front of him. I would pretend he was the Godzilla for my army men and need to be defeated to save the day. His fur was so soft and fluffy with a white patchy tummy that he bared for a rubbing. Everything seemed so still in those moments. There was no emergency. Doing wrong meant not listening to mom or dad when being called for dinner. If I didn’t like dinner, I would stall and drag it out with a groan when my stomach was angry with me. Or perhaps, if I was pushing the limits, I would shove my toy mess under the bed corner and sneak candy. The world continued spinning and the confines of my toy littered room were the closest thing to prison that I ever experienced. When did life become so much more complicated?

The bottle was full. Ironic, that I packed the bag when I did, but I was thankful for fate in that brief moment. I admitted to myself that I was scared. It was cold and wet and I had no plan. I opened the bottle and took a very large swig then put it back into my bag. A nightcap to soothe the transitioning. “Is that was this is?” I wondered. The street light created shadows in the alley and I tucked away off to the side of the dumpster. I listened to the city streets and explored all of my senses. The alcohol was burning my lips and tingling my mouth and throat. The warm rush felt nice in my makeshift chair of a cardboard box. The smells mixed together around the trashcan and sour-sweet smell stirred about the area. The metal dumpster smelled of rust and dew, which I had never noticed before. I heard water puddles swish and splatter when cars drove by. Fast cars…. slow cars… Life was still going on. What was I doing here? I closed my eyes in my little corner and laid my head on the pile next to me. My bag sat on top as a clean pillow. The recent drink carried me several hours through the night until the dawn.

Sparrows bounced around in the alleyway bobbing in and out of small nooks picking up dropped food or insects that shared the spaces. Their chirps signaled to one another and the group scoured the area and bounced off as quickly as they came. The dark green paint could be made out on the structure next to me and the spray-painted tags from years of street life. Traffic lulled mid-morning but traffic patterns started picking up with people starting their days. The smell of wet ground and trash radiated the area. I decided to get up, with only a headache holding onto me.

The seat of my jeans was slightly wet and I could make out the mud on my shoes. I thought to myself, “at least I put on real sneakers.” I slung my backpack over my shoulder with a bubble blop from the bottle inside. I stretched my legs and reached for the sky shaking off the hard ground bed that I had made. The aches lingered in my joints and a dull throbbing pulsed with my heartbeat. I slid the bag off halfway and shot a little bit of the drink to aid in the throbbing. I was not even sure that it would work – but what did I have to lose?

A drone zipped by while another was scanning the block. I reached up to my face and realized that I did not grab my mask. The drone stopped and turned towards me and slowly approached. By the time it got to me, I had pulled my teeshirt up to my nose. After a few moments, which felt like an eternity, the robot turned and continued its route. I knew that the cheat sometimes worked, but the sigh of relief told me that I didn’t count on it. Shakey, I knelt down on my knees and pulled my backpack all the way off to the front of me. I rummaged around the bag and finally found two cloth masks tucked in a small zip-up pocket. Maggie and I used to get away once in a while. While generic and only cloth, it satisfied the street requirements.

My stomach ached from my liquids diet. I felt around my pockets to find a $10 bill rolled into the same pocket as the newly found masks. I put it back into my jeans pocket and slung the pack to my back. I emerged at the alley and Centennial Street and looked around me for a place to eat. I saw a small convenience food shop on the corner and decided to go there. I walked over to the entrance and noticed that no one was in there; the store had just opened. I also realized how much of the street rubbed off on me during my overnight stay. Mud trailed up and down my legs and the dew from the evening clung to me in various spots. The dumpster forest green and rust left its mark on my side. It was obvious that I had some better days.

The sky was crested with orange accents as the clouds rolling in covered the sky. The handwritten sign read “OPEN.”The bell rang as I entered and the crew member’s smile dwindled instantaneously, “Sorry man, I cannot give you anything.” He reluctantly said in broken English. What did he think? What did I look like, I wondered, and it donned on me?

“Sir, no, I have money.” I held up the $10. “May I wash my hands?” Which he nodded to. I made my way through the small establishment to a room labeled “PUBLIC.” Urine odors stained the floor and a lemon-lime air spray burnt my nose as I shut the door to look at the sink and mirror. My weighted face sagged and my eyes were red from drinking and sleep deprivation. I splashed water on my face with my wet hands and wiped off the smudges along my cheekbones. I rinsed off my hands and wiped my face with the towel. I stretched faces and walked out of the bathroom towards the counter.

Another customer was in the store getting a breakfast sandwich as I exited. His smile drained and the look on his face could not hide his disgust. In several hours, I had become one of “those” types of people, I reckoned. The person that is easier to not see. To not know that person exists makes a conscience easier to manage. Even with my cleaned up appearance, I had the beginnings of a street stench that could be smelled over his designer cologne. I smiled back and raised my hand in a wave to acknowledge his presence. That is what a person is supposed to do? Again, I had to rethink everything, but I landed on the same outcome and decision each interaction that I had going forward. While his face withdrew from me, I stood back and waited for my turn. While I was the object of attention at this hour, I was also a paying customer. The sandwich was made for me – just like any other customer. I thanked the employee and walked out of the shop like I knew where I was going. I just kept walking.

The bread was tough and crispy on the edges with a light baked appearance. The melted cheese gushed out the sides with each bite and the juiciness of the smoked ham dripped over my tongue. I walked around the next corner and leaned against the wall and looked at the sky changing colors. The clouds were patchy and the breeze carried a dew smell embedded within. I took it all in. Each chew of the sandwich seemed sweeter and sweeter and the weight finally landed in my stomach. The soothing smell and taste lent to a satisfied belly and I appreciated the scarcity that I had just encountered. It would be some time before I could do that again, and while I knew it, I focused on the appreciation of what I had at the moment. I felt a jarring on my thigh and reached down to see what it was.

I had my phone on vibrate and I pulled it up to view it. Dozens of missed calls, texts, and alerts crossed the banner of my screen. I saw Valerie’s name and instantly felt shame. I held the side of the phone for several seconds and let it power down. I had around 50% of a charge and decided to conserve that while I could. With food in my belly, I was able to feel life back within my body. I needed to think through the last few days and think about what was to come in the next few. I was scared. I had never been on the streets – or been without anything. I had never wondered about meals and other random things going through my mind. I secured my backpack on my shoulders and decided to press forward. I spent the next couple of hours just walking around the city and observing. Appreciation of what was… already.

Everything seemed to be in slow motion at moments. I would catch myself being lost from time to time. The things that mattered, did not at that then. Maslow’s pyramid was flipped upside down and things taken for granted were blatantly obvious. Each footstep was simultaneously inspiring, yet terrifying. I had to continuously evaluate the situations and the old ways did not matter. Rent, bills, due dates… suddenly took a back seat to food, water, and shelter. As the day progressed it become even more so obvious. Clouds pillowed in the sky and the sun disappeared. Grey linings were overcast and the day began to look like night. Thunder chased strobing streaks and a cool breeze swept through the streets. Paper waste wisped across the sidewalks and people began to disappear from the main walkways. A green tinge filtered the daylight like a lens as the winds started and stopped and then repeated the cycle. The severe weather sirens digitally echoed through the hallowed streets. Distant apps on devices chirped as an alert plunge through the city. The storm was going to be big. I needed to find shelter.

The sky continued to swell and became darker and darker. Moisture could be felt and smelled in the air long before the droplets started to fall. In a seismic woosh, the heavens exploded with a strong wind that blew the large water droplets into my face. The pellets of rain felt like sandblasting blowing over me. I walked around the corner to escape the weather and leaned against the brick wall to take advantage of an overhang. The wind roared in bursts and thunder crashed in the sky overhead. I felt the water hit my hair and drip down the back of my neck in a small stream. The coolness from the air rushing over my wet skin made a frigid chill rush my body. I moved several times to try and get rid of the waterfall that had formed from the skies. I held my backpack, which repelled the majority of the water, over my head to remain dry. I hunkered down and let the bag balance over my head. I closed my eyes and prayed for the storm to pass. The rushing water echoed in the ally and my ears. I am unaware of how much time had passed. I had become numb to the sensory overload when I felt a tug at my shoulder.

A dark silhouette stood beside me and tugged towards a distant building. I could not make the face out with my blurred vision and the downpour. His head was barely visible from a hood pulled tight around this face. “Come on!” the gruff raspy voice directed me to move. I could tell it was a man by the voice and he hurriedly moved towards a building in the distance. I slang my bag over my shoulder and felt the sloshing of my shoes with each heavy step I took. The water did not let up and streams rushed down the alleys, streets, and sidewalks. We navigated around a couple of cars before entering a large opening where the weather stopped. The figure, ahead of me, walked away from me and over to a rusted trash can with a fire burning rapidly out of the top. Large sticks, branches, and other paper waste were sticking out as well as piled into a box beside it.

Several heads were moving around in the distance on the first floor of an abandoned building. The building was only a shell but the structure prevented some environmental protection. Each group of people gathered around a trash can with similar setups. Their hands were held toward the fire like it was the middle of winter. Hands were rubbing together and held to their faces. A couple of men were turned, back to the fires, and drying their backsides. The groups of people did not say much, but it was apparent that they knew each other by the body language. Different people took turns stoking or adding to the fire at different times. As I dripped from my soaked clothing I looked around taking it all in.

The fire glowed wavering shadows onto several men’s faces. The shadows moved from side to side as the wind blew through the building spaces. I looked and found the man that got me from the alleyway. He was an averaged size man. His hood laid on his shoulders and his long gray and white pony-tail wrapped around his neck and over his shoulders. The night-like shadows showed the sharp features of his face. He had a large bridged nose and light-colored eyes. The lines showed deep on his face and ash marks were on the side. His cheekbones were highlighted by his drawn in face. He pulled a small box out of his pocket, removed a single cigarette, and walked over to me. “Want one?” He asked in a cold, but friendly manner. I reluctantly nodded and managed to get a whisper of a thank you out as he walked away. A few feet away, he stepped back up to the can, again removed the box, and lit a cigarette in the fire’s flames. His V-shaped face made the blaze orange embers shine and he exhales a blue cloud that quickly vanished in the breeze. Our eyes met and he nodded towards a spot open in the can. I looked around as if I was verifying that he was referring to me and walked up to the can. The fire’s warmth quickly penetrated the saturated clothing that I was wearing. I reached into the fire and pulled out the small stick. I placed it to my mouth and took a small drag of the cigarette. I felt awkwardly comfortable at that moment.

The sparks climbed with the heated air as the men took turns churning the can. Each man stared into the flames with a somber and absent look. They were all physically standing by the only source of warmth but in their minds, it was obvious they were elsewhere. Like REM sleep, their eyes fluttered occasionally while they lived inside of their heads. The silence was only broken by the fire crackling, adding fuel, or a cough from someone in the circles. I looked through the windows while the dark sky continued to beat down on the earth. Common drones perched on ledges only scanning the 180 views from their landing. Military-grade drones continued patrolling but in far reduced numbers, but I was the only one paying attention. The others had seen all of this many times before and were used to these routines.

The afternoon continued into the early evening then late evening. No one spoke or did anything. It was nice to be dry. One man would walk off for a while and another would step up to the can. Often the same person that left would come back to their spot. There was no food around, only the occasional water bottle tipped back. Despite the stereotypes, alcohol, and drugs were not their m.o. Like many people, I thought they were all drug and alcohol junkies looking for their next fix. I had bet that I was the only person that had drank anything in the last 48 hours. I caught myself, too, looking into the fire. I replayed the last hours myself and thought about the difference of worlds that I was experiencing. It was not they or them anymore. It was we.

The rain never stopped completely that night. The fires died down and one by one the men scattered to various locations. Some to a spot in the building while others left. Each with a momentary connecting look, nodded to one another as they departed. By this point, I was tired of standing and honestly, I felt that I had given up in more ways than one. Yet, some form of oppression was lifted off of my shoulders and the worries didn’t matter for a moment. I slang my bag over my shoulder and walked to an unclaimed area of the large building. I leaned my back against a pillar and sort of slid down. I sat with my legs crossed with my bag on my lap. I unzipped my bag and pulled out a sweatshirt that I had tossed in. I unmangled it and put it over me like a blanket. It wasn’t much, but it was something.

Shortly after I got myself situated the same man towered over me. “Come with me.” He again said in a cold, serious but caring tone. I hesitated but decided that I had nothing to lose. I assumed he was going to inform me that I was going to need to leave or that I was in someone’s space. All of which, I was unprepared for but my instinct was leading me to listen to him. We snaked around pillars and concrete debris. Trash had accumulated in some spaced and piles of things were left from people. I was unsure if they still lived there or if the items were just left behind. The gentleman walked to a corner and pulled his hood over his head again. The stairs were deep and went up inside the rest of the place. He showed me around the stairs to a cubby that was there from the hollowed-out structure. Underneath the stairs, a small room like a sub-space formed. It was not large enough to stand up in, but sitting would have been no problem. He motioned inside as he ducked and crawled in.

There was an old mattress on the left side and a rolled-up sleeping bag against the makeshift wall. He squatted and pulled it out as he sat down on the mattress. He pulled out several aged and tattered blankets and laid them down in a small rectangle to form padding on the floor. He then unrolled the large comforter like a sleeping bag over the rages. He motioned for me to come and sit, followed by, “You can use this,” and gestured. As if he was inside of his own house he began to settle in. A couple of curtains lined the front and shower curtains were strung around the stairs on a wire. They enclosed the area into a small 8′ foot square which now resembled a dressing room. He pulled a small metal box out from a storage container and placed a recycled candle onto it and lit it. The little flame flickered in the drafts but radiated warmth as it continued to burn. The man reached beside him and pulled out a blanket. I sat on the sleeping bag as he pulled his legs on the mattress and doubled the blanket over his body. He clasped his hands together under the back of his head and once again gazed beyond. This time at the artificial ceiling. Not knowing what to do, I trusted my instincts and slid into the sleeping back doing the same as he did.

The city was quiet for the most part. I could hear a car drive by occasionally and a honk in the distance. The city had an empty echo to it with a sound of rummaging nearby. My stomach growled and I realized that I had not eaten since the morning. I did not have much cash left – and I did not want to use any cards since I was avoiding being tracked. In my mind, the crimes were mounting and I was thinking as the judge, jury, and executioner. It was all coming to an end and this life of crime would best me at some juncture. My mind spiraled down the rabbit hole just like when I would look up an illness with images on the websites. A small thing became a large thing and then snowballed down the cliff. I could hear coughs in the background, outside of our small room,

I opened my bag and pulled out the glass bottle. I took the cap off and chugged enough shots to forget the night. I didn’t know what else to do. The lumpy sack on the floor was a good situation considering what I could be doing at this hour. In this place. I laid back and stared through the walls with the burning in my stomach. Gut rot set in and a groan escaped me. “It doesn’t always have to end that way,” the raspy and gruff voice stated. I looked over and was pulling his sleeves down his arms still looking at the ceiling. We both knew what he meant, and was referring to. I felt myself drift as the moments passed by. I was lost in a moment. Even without the drink, I felt strangely settled, yet unsettled. And over time, it would appear more and more. I heard a sound and looked over. A masked mammal walked into the curtain and looked towards me and the man on the floor. Ironically I was the stereotype that I thought about earlier. The raccoon walked right beside me, not even flinching by my movement. I was a part of their world now.

My eyes closed and sleep set in. “Good night,” I muttered and it was met with acknowledgment.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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Moving Day.

The fun of moving day. Boxes, boxes and guess what??? More boxes!

Did I mention that I dislike moving? So the next phase is underway. I moved from my apartment at the end of my lease to Q’s. Yesterday, we got the garage door opener for the house we are both moving to, together. A new chapter in life is about to begin. It is exciting really. The physical labor part can be taxing though, which only makes sense. Take stuff – shove it into boxes – move it – take it out of boxes. A lot goes into the process really. This is probably my 12 move since I have been an adult, if 12, then it would be more. Quite a bit more if you count a few stops along the way. I am blessed though, so I do not want to sound like I am complaining beyond just a sigh of work… I took off TH – SUN this week to make it happen and we have made good progress so far. I hired a couple people to help with the piano and china cabinet, tomorrow. We also get the keys tomorrow.

I am about 1/3 of the way done with Chapter 18 of my novel. We are taking some winding roads friends. It make take a week to finish this one based on the moving. BUT I do have all 30+ chapters outlined. That may change slightly based on a new life that is taking place right now. We will see.

WW. joe

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 17)

Continued from chapter 16 of the Devastation Series.

…Valerie… I remembered all of her help throughout the day and the importance of her being involved with the passing of Dad. I knew, and it was obvious, that I was not going to hold it together. The funeral was the day after tomorrow, and I needed to sober up by then. “Today is the day,” I tried to convince myself, but quickly failed.

It was the middle of the night when, in between spells, that I remembered I needed to call into work. We had a bereavement policy, which I had never used before. I would have to look up the specific details but I knew that I had at least 3 days off. Which, at that moment, were going to be needed for several reasons. I did still have some vacation time left, but I could not remember how much I had accumulated. It took me quite some time to focus long enough to compose the email. After I finished writing it, I edited it with two different apps to cover up my wandering mind and focused past the double vision. I pressed send and bobbled over to the fridge where I topped off my glass after a swig. “Today can be later,” I reminded myself.

The hangover went away as my body saturated in the burning liquid as it sloshed it’s way to my stomach. I had momentarily given in to self-pity. I thought that I was at rock-bottom and didn’t see any way out other than continuing through. I felt the liquid burn into my stomach and several random things came to mind: Dad’s funeral, my falsified paperwork, my mother baking, and the fishing trip that I shared with Valerie at the hospital. Valerie. Once I thought of her, I depressed myself with feelings of worthlessness. I felt bursts of joy thinking about her friendship and simultaneous hot flashes of shame. I imagined that I had let her down. My father would have been let down. No one would understand. I didn’t understand… thoughts intermixed in my mind like a maze of tangled squiggles with no visible ends.

I sat at the desk and looked at the stack of things that I had tossed in a box from previous sorts. I pulled out the photos and scanned over them. They were dated and it appeared to be a different time. Samuel was smiling. It was the picture that I had placed in my pocket when I first walked through the apartments. I straightened the fold and flipped over the photo of a young woman. “Who are you guys?” I wondered. I flipped through the journals in front of me and wondered what it was like then. I knew things were not simpler. I believed it was a fallacy to think one generation had it worse than another. “We walked uphill in the snow both ways…” had transcended time and upgraded to fit the now. Each generation had it bad in their own way. The troubles of the time were unique to it and that part still applied to today. In a moment’s logic, I realized that I had it just as hard or less than others, it just happened to be mine which made it all the more intense and real. In between the spells, I reminisced about life growing up. Fishing trips with dad, a family vacation, the distance that crept in when we were least expecting it in the form growing up or being older.

While wasting time, I opened my shopping app and ordered another bottle of bourbon. Today was already ruined so, I decided to just forget about as much of it as possible. The drink would be delivered around 10 AM, and I would walk to the door to pick it up. I knew not to drive. I thought back to how long it had been since I binge drank. The last time that I remembered doing that was a time when Maggie had left me. She had blamed me for everything that had gone wrong in her life, so it would have seemed, and I apologetically accepted all of it. The thought made me angry and I swigged from the bottle thinking how wrong she was. “What am I trying to prove?” I asked into the air. Of course, there was no answer, but I was awakening in some aspects while dying in others. Something was happening inside of me. Something deeper than the stupor I was engaging in. I felt like things were going to happen, but I didn’t realize the rollercoaster that it was going to take.

I faded in and out over the night. I tried to watch more videos on Samuel’s Mac, but couldn’t stay awake long enough to get into them. I would start one, and wake up as it was ending. So I abandoned that idea with another drink and soon faded off again. I repeated that cycle throughout the night until the morning came. I had given up on keeping it together by that point and succumbed to alcoholism. Of course, that realization led to even more shame and repeat to the cycles. As the sun lasered into my eyes through the blinds, I saw a text from Valerie. “Are you up?” she asked. I did not reply and rolled over with a moan. The next text was alerting me that my delivery had arrived.

I barely kept it together as the wall kept me straight down the long corridor. I focused foot by foot, one in front of the other outside of the complex. A young man, wearing a hipper than life attitude greeted me. “Get’n into it early eh?” He chucked.

“I never stopped.” I rasped out in a cold monotone admitting it to it out loud. I picked the bag from his hands and teetered left to right back inside. I am sure I heard him scoff at me, but I was hyper-focused on details at the moment. I was possibly reading into something that was not there. My mind was becoming alert with the first physical activity of the day. When I got back inside of 116 I poured a drink from the new bottle. I decided to do spiced rum instead before checking out last night. I remembered ordering but the details were fuzzy at best. The small bag of groceries was a surprise, but the chips served as a breakfast taming the slosh inside of my gut. I grabbed my drink and chips and plopped down at the desk.

Valerie continued to text, or at least that was how it felt. I was ashamed and ghosting her by this point. I suspected that she knew it too. After several open-ended questions without answers, it stopped. I convinced myself that it was for the better. No one would understand me, so I thought, relying on my environmental training. I was just a failure and rock bottom only happened to me. The weight of the burden could almost be felt on my shoulders. Every breath felt like a sigh and every neuron that was firing was against me. I sipped my drink and flipped through the pictures that were piled in a box. Samuel was taking my mind away from the current moments, but that was not solving anything that needed to be solved. I had wished that I found a reason at that moment to carry on.

Hours had passed from my lapses when I jumped up from the couch. An unexpected voice towered over me. “Aaarrrggghhh…” I garbled out. Focusing my eyes I could see long hair draped over a shoulder, the shadows softly painted Valerie’s cheeks and silhouette.

“Consider this your wake up call.” She plainly stated.

“What does that mean?” clearing my throat afterward. Her eyes were full of sadness and it was obvious that she had been crying. “You been crying?”

“Yes. Jake. I have,” she said in a nearly monotone voice, “I didn’t run from it.” The truths hurt, but it was expected. I nodded, knowing that I had that coming. I reached the side table and condensation coldly ran down the glass making a trail. I finished what was in the glass.

“I suppose you came to tell me all of the horrible things…” I started but was cut off.

“Stop it. NOW.” A stern look glazed over her face. “I don’t know why I am here Jake, but I… want to make sure you are alright and not wasting away in a psoriasis dream or something.”

“I don’t know… Val… I… just don’t know…” I stammered out.

“We have a big day tomorrow Jake. YOU, have a big day tomorrow. You need to at least pull yourself together for that.” She pursed her lips. I flopped back into the pillowy cushions of the couch.

“I know…” I felt like I was taking punishment from a parent, but I knew she was not treating it that way. “I’ll straighten up…tomorrow…” I snickered back, testing the waters.

“Okay, Jake. I am holding you to that.” She looked away and around the apartment. “Looks like you got some stuff done…” She tried to meet my sarcasm with the same. I got up and scooted across the floor in my socks, lazily dragging my feet, while I went to the kitchen for a refill. I pulled down another glass and filled it partway adding ice cubes.

“If you’re hanging out with me, I think you need a drink.” She reluctantly took it from my hands and said thanks in a dismissive tone. After a short time, she shot part of the glass and leaned over from the chair and placed it on the corner of the desk. She became intrigued by the desk and moved so she could properly sit at the desk. I stared off into the distance while she rummaged through the contents.

After a few minutes of silence, she called over to me, “Jake… where did you get these photos?” She held up the bent eared pair that I was admiring earlier.

“One of them was in a box, and the other was in another apartment when I checked it out,” I replied. “Several others were just scattered around while I organized the place… er-uh wrecked it, more-alike.” She was studying the materials on the desk and must have read several of the articles. She continued sitting at the desk and sorted for what seemed like a long time, placing a pile on the right-hand side that she had viewed or gone through. She seemed to sort the photos carefully and fancied the dog eared copy. As I finished another glass, everything became intense for me.

“I am sorry Valerie,” I blurted as I began to sob. My hands covered my face while I started to cry. Thoughts of my childhood of my father were sandwiched with his dying face; the pigment fading and the sounds of machines harmoniously whisking him away. I heard coos immediately and leg touching my left thigh as she rushed right beside of me. “Jake… it’s ok…let it out…” She said in a caregiving reassuring voice. I turned my body, hands over face, towards her shoulders and chest. Her arms wrapped around me in a bearhug type posture while she whispered to me, “It is going to be all-right… all-right.” For the next while, I phased in and out. I was awake, sobered up temporarily by the rushes of adrenaline. She soothed me the entire time.

Her hair was thick but flowed over her shoulders with a bounce. I felt a beauty mark on my cheek as I laid into the divot of her well-defined neck. Her voice became a melody after some kind a scent with sandalwood tickled my nose. Her shoulder wet with tears felt like a memory foam pillow. My mind went still and I explored emotions. She told me stories of my father while he worked around the farm. We could both chuckle at the antics he performed while learning the simple life. In my typical father form, he would make the simple… complicated. We covered a decade that evening, weaving in and out of tears and giggles. It was late when I got up to use the bathroom. On my way back, I took a chug from the bottle. “Tomorrow.” Valerie sternly stated.

“Yes ma’am,” I said with a slosh. I made my way back to the couch. While she wasn’t wrapped around me, she sat close turned towards me. I looked over to see a clock, “11:01” rolled before my eyes. The adrenaline was fading and I was more and more out of it. It was then that Valerie told me the story of how she met my father.

While I think she was telling me at that moment, since I must have appeared “not all with it,” but I held on as long as I could to listen. I learned that she was abused by her ex-husband and ran away. She lived close to my dad and they befriended with common interests. She was close to my age, so he treated her like a daughter. Once, her ex became really angry about a miscarriage. She, like many people, thought that maybe a child would change everything. The world became grayer for a long period and he blamed her for everything. She wasn’t healthy enough, or she didn’t do the right steps… was what she shared. Tears slowly came from the corners of her eyes. It was obvious, to me, that it was from the loss of a child not from the ex-husband – or even the treatment that she endured. I felt her elegant fingers in the back of my hair as if combing down a cowlick. Before I blacked out for the night, I remember fading in and out… she talked to me for hours that night.

When I woke in the morning, she was gone. I groggily came to – and curiosity overcame me, “Where is she?” Or perhaps I did not recall the night correctly, I wondered. I wobbly stood up as a sharp pain struck between my eyes forcing an awkward squint. The light seemed so bright. I felt like a new kitten seeing the world for the first time. One with a terrible headache. I reached to the ceiling and twisted side to side to get my body going. I walked to the kitchen and poured a cold glass of water. I pulled the bourbon from the fridge and took a tiny shot to mitigate the hangover. I turned around facing the desk and couch and noticed a note on the counter. I slid the post-note towards me while widening my eyes. I rubbed the sleep out and read the note. It read: Jake – I went to the store to grab a coffee. I needed to move around for a bit. Your couch hurts. I will be back shortly. – V.

I rummaged through the clothes and grabbed a new set of clothes. I grabbed a dressier shift, jeans, and Nintendo socks. I turned on the shower to hot and cracked the bathroom door to keep the steam in. I turned on a 30’s station over the Echo and went to wash off the nights before. I looked towards the couch and could see two impressions. One where I hunkered on the arm as a pillow and another beside where I was. She stayed close all night long. The image softened my mood and shown a void inside of me. I felt a nurtured warmth that I had not experienced in longer than I could recognize. I slid into the bathroom and into the shower. The music echoed in the hollowed-out room and was muffled under the shower spray. I hummed on along to the song. The class rock was one of those radio hits that you would hear in nearly every rotation. I was mostly done when I was startled. “How are you feeling?” The woman’s voice felt stabbing in the steam.

“Je’sus…” I exclaimed, “Alexa – pause…” The streaming stopped.

“You really need to mellow out a bit more dude…” She confidently cast out. I instinctively covered my man parts and coward backward.

“What are you doing?!?!” I echoed in the shower.

“Re-lax, I didn’t come in… I am back with the coffee and we need to get there before any guests.” She coaxed at me. I studied the shapes in the room through the blurry doors to satisfy my insecurity. She was not in the room. “Get a move-on…” She trailed off into the other room. The music started playing again, slightly louder than before.

“Comin’ mo-ther.” I snarkily chuckled. I finished the shower, dried off, and got dressed. “Ugghhh,” came out of my mouth as the clothes stuck to my skin in the steam and wetness. I opened the door and the clouds swirled overhead. The cool ambient air whisked across my face and a sniffle overcame me. I looked out from the doorway and marveled at her for a moment. Leaning on the doorway, I watched her mouth the words to the song and nod along to the music. She was looking at the photos again and taking a couple of pictures of them. “What are you doing?” I broke the silence.

“This photo is interesting to me. So instead of taking it, I just snapped a copy…” Smiling back to me.

I walked out into the main room area and saw the steam dissipate around me. I found a backpack and grabbed a spare set of comfier clothes and put them into it. I imagined that I could change if I got hot with dressier clothes or if I was uncomfortable. I stashed a spare phone charger, and a few other items into the pockets, just in case. When I packed, I always tried to think ahead, though it rarely paid off. Many of the protein bars that I pocketed ended smashed, melted, or some other form of disgusting. The one time it paid off – fed the ongoing contingency planning. I packed one of the journals on the table, not paying attention to what order I pulled from. Just in case… I finished tucking things away and we headed over to the funeral home.

The sun tucked behind the clouds but the heat remained. A humidity that felt like a storm brewing was sitting on us and making moving around miserable. The environmental system in the car ran quite cool – just making the in and out harder to bare. The ride over was calm but the anxiety was mounting for both of us. The music was just a thing in the background. The words didn’t register and the music seemed to fade in and out as cascades of thought rushed in. We pulled into the parking lot and parked near the entrance. We backed in and sat facing the city for a moment. The world pressed on. Masks were donned on faces, and drones continued to circulate the streets. I wondered how the world could continue while this loss was happening? I started imagining my view and my happiness vs. the world and its views. Valerie stirred and we prepared to get out. The wind was calm and outside was balmy. Dark clouds were feathered into the sky and the horizon was dark again. “It can’t rain all the time…” I mumbled with pessimistically.

“But seasons of storms come and go…” Valerie answered. And she was right. Storms just seem to be how it was at that moment.

We were greeted at the door by a man in a classic tuxedo and were shown to a room down a hall to the right. The room was set up for people showing. A light haloed over the casket and a prostrate body was on display. The faded made-up face paled unrecognizably in the light. The coffee-colored casket with a sky blue lining sat half-open in a traditional style showcase. My father froze in a moment of time, eerily still, with cheeks every so slightly drawn in. The observation that I had in the hospital, remained more true at that moment compared to back then. The soul adds definition to a body and without it, the essence of the person is lost.

People came in and shared their love. Friends of Dad’s that we knew and were strangers greeted us and said their goodbyes. The distant family also signed the digital guest log and told quick stories bringing memories to life. It was neat to see Valerie and my life intersect with familiar faces that knew each of us. It made the small world cliche feel very real. We continued greeting and listening to people ramble on with good times until 11:00 AM when a minister friend of the family took the podium beside the casket. He began with a prayer and continued for almost 30 minutes with a precise and colorful eulogy. Time seemed to race by…

The service went fast. I found myself in tangent thoughts from tidbits of stories. The minister would create an opening and I would blaze down a side trail, coming in and out of the service. When it was complete the funeral home emptied and the pallbearers moved the casket to the car. Valerie and I rode in the family car to the cemetery. It was steaming, hot, and cold at the same time. The seats smelled like heated leather and of cheap aftershave. The last portion of the service seemed surreal until I tossed a handful of dirt over the casket in the ground. We stayed around until the last people left and before the teams enclosed the tombs. I don’t remember where the time disappeared to,

The headstone was non-traditional. The stone had the formal marble etchings but also an embedded digital frame. The solar-powered image would change every day and would be altered by his Legacy Site. The stone also had a QR Code installed which would take you to the digital presence of my father. There were many options but we went very traditional: a brief bio, family tree, pictures, and his life’s work and dreams. The Legacy Keepers could alter at any time – but the basics were set up by eulogy and funeral home. As Valerie and I walked away from the pit, a cold and piercing realization happened in an instant. A part of me, too, had died that day, and more was about to… More than I could have ever imagined.

Valerie dropped me off at the apartment. She appeared to be holding it together but needed some time to clear her thoughts and head. I walked into the apartment and tossed my bag near the couch. I opened the door and looked down the hall making sure Valerie had left. I shut the door and opened the fridge and took the cap off the rum. My stomach cramped up with a large amount of alcohol that flooded into my system. I ordered another bottle and went over to the couch until I ran down to pick the bottle up. The day was over in those moments and I lost track of activity and time. I looked at the clock every so often to see hours had passed. I become lost in myself and the bottle for… I was not sure for how long. It had been long enough to finish one bottle.

I do not know what time it was when I heard pounding at the front door. I looked through the peephole and the Police were banging on the door. “Jake open up, we know you’re home buddy…” I panicked, and frantically tried to wrap my mind around the situation, but I could not. I was certain that I was being identified as a squatter. Being away from work – it was probably noticed when researching the lodging situation. A weight smashed into my chest, and I lost my breathing. I had bet it was the ticket that I received. “Was I supposed to appear in court, sh#t… I don’t remember.” I couldn’t think straight. Nothing made sense. In a split-second, I grabbed the bottle, shoved it into my backpack, and fell out of the bedroom window. I realized it was evening and woozily stood. I saw lights in front and decided to dart down the alley. I was not sure what I was doing – but nothing seemed right now.

“What the f*&# is going on?” I hid by a dumper several blocks away. I passed out from stress and alcohol after my heart stopped racing.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 17)

Continued from chapter 16 of the Devastation Series.

“Consider this your wake up call.” She plainly stated.

“What does that mean?” clearing my throat afterward. Her eyes were full of sadness and it was obvious that she had been crying. “You been crying?”

“I suppose you came to tell me all of the horrible things…” I started but was cut off.

“Stop it. NOW.” A stern look glazed over her face. “I don’t know why I am here Jake, but I… want to make sure you are alright and not wasting away in a psoriasis dream or something.”

“I don’t know… Val… I… just don’t know…” I stammered out.

“We have a big day tomorrow Jake. YOU, have a big day tomorrow. You need to at least pull yourself together for that.” She pursed her lips. I flopped back into the pillowy cushions of the couch.

“I know…” I felt like I was taking punishment from a parent, but I knew she was not treating it that way. “I’ll straighten up…tomorrow…” I snickered back, testing the waters.

After a few minutes of silence, she called over to me, “Jake… where did you get these photos?” She held up the bent eared pair that I was admiring earlier.

“Je’sus…” I exclaimed, “Alexa – pause…” The streaming stopped.

��You really need to mellow out a bit more dude…” She confidently cast out. I instinctively covered my man parts and coward backward.

“What are you doing?!?!” I echoed in the shower.

“This photo is interesting to me. So instead of taking it, I just snapped a copy…” Smiling back to me.

“But seasons of storms come and go…” Valerie answered. And she was right. Storms just seem to be how it was at that moment.

“What the f*&# is going on?” I hid by a dumper several blocks away. I passed out from stress and alcohol after my heart stopped racing.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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Creative Writing: Chapter 17 Error

Hello Readers,

Chapter 17 was published prematurely. The screen froze and when I reset the screen it published. For those of you than cannot wait – feel free to read the unedited version(s). I have a series of editing steps that I perform but this one did not make it through those. I will be publishing the edited version with slight changes TODAY.

Again, I am sorry for the post and if you tried to click on the link (since it would not work). Thank you for continuing to read. Your feedback makes a difference and is part of the incentive to continue this story until the close.

Ww. joe

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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Red, White, Black and Blue

So for starters, I am slacking. I am about 1/3 done with Chapter 17 of the Devastation Series, and have just been mentally exhausted. The kind of exhausted where you scroll for hours on some random site (which happened to be the Wish app for me). I didn’t purchase anything – just admired from the window and gasped at some of the suggested purchases. Brain energy expended… nil. I have a busy weekend with moving coming up and the list that I need to finish. In the meantime, I had a thought come to me about a subject which is painfully dear to me. It has to do with the mess of a world right now. Like an entire stew being baked, and the bottom burnt. The whole stew just seems to have that… that flavor now.

Yesterday, I posed this comment:

A Facebook post by me on 07.15

Between this wall post and the story headline, I received quite a bit of feedback. Several people would have jumped me if I was on the street (so it would seem). I am finding a weird paradox of thought around all of this. And during the post and before I replied – I learned something about life. It is a lesson that I should have known but it was my own little taste of what is really happening in the world.

I am not going to go into my political views (but they will likely leak onto the page). I could care less if you are Democrat, Republican, or some hodge podge combination of that with even a new-age twist. But, you cannot look at the media (which is the main/only source of information) and think “Wow, it’s great. Everything is great!” If you can honestly do that… PM me… I would love to have a sample of whatever you are buying or taking. If you are not a fan of the government at this moment, you will be quick to point out the dismantling that is going on. The mis-information. The constant change of decisions. If you are a fan, you will say we are making major changes and that is creating chaos – but I think you would admit it is bumpy… Oh and during this – we are exposing a lot of racism #BLM, and other forms of harassment (such as #MeToo) or gender fluidity. Sprinkle in a made-up pandemic which, for being a lie, sure is creating a lot of illness and death. And while EACH of these are serious topics that deserve attention, we have the news marketing pushing for the sale of their story which means click bait – phrase picking – boundary pushing pieces to get attention. Which they do… So then, the public picks a side. When you read an article – you develop some bias. A feeling inside… And we end up with this huge Venn Diagram of bandwagonneers. What do we do – we react! As the media and news spreads and changes every few minutes we are playing whack-a-mole except instead of putting it away – we seem to be stoking each of the little fires. If you step back from afar – the mosaic comes into view and the whole damn world seems to be on fire.

So after I posted the above. I thought about the reactions to my little blurb. I should have an opinion – but not that one. And obviously, I was discrediting every American, every sacrifice and was using my little pedestal (not a platform LOL), to explain how I was anti-American. Right… I carefully selected the words. I did not want to denounce America – but did want to say that even I was at my breaking point. So I thought about it for awhile and actually got angry about some of the reactions. It was an interesting place to be. They have the same right that I do/did to comment, which I invited, but it was a quick dog-pile, and people actually were fueled by others comments. So I replied, after thinking about this in context of the world – and all of those micro/macro actions… stories… events…

My closure to the conversation after several replies starting coming in.

There was such an influx of comments and pings and feedback when everyone thought I was bashing America (which to be fair is a sitting target right now). Only a couple people asked to understand. The question. The missing piece. The question, which paints the context for what you cannot get across in a blurb. The comment afterwards was from someone who I admire and is quoted as, “What is really happening is people are being willingly manipulated…” Several people liked it. So — do we know it? Are we so beat-up that we feel like we have to beat down everything and apologize later? But how much damage can we issue to later retract? In a moment we went from an opinionated post – to personal judgement from an imaginary context or a context construed from an egocentric view

I am afraid I will not be able to wrap this to a tight close. There are lots of loose ends and questions answered with questions. I wonder what would happen if we just quarantined ourselves FROM THE MEDIA for 14 days. Shut off Facebook for 14 days. If we need to use something to talk to our loved ones – set up a group chat. Maybe that is the action from this? I challenge each of us to #FacebookQuarantine for 14 days. #MediaQuarantine for 14 days. Maybe it is broader than that and should be #UnplugQuarantine. Do whatever that means to you – but clear your head. Catch your breath and let us stop pouncing on things like a feral cat in the corner.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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Monday, Fun-daze, Gone.

Today, whoa is me. No really, it’s not that big of a deal. I just imagined starting off more dramatic. Just thinking about the weekend and my Friday post with grandiose plans… DUH-DUH-DUH (dramatic sounds)… I had this list of things that I wanted to do. And I successfully… avoided and completely incompleted them. Meh. Whatever, I suppose. My body was telling me different things and I listened. The list, that I created on Thur/Fri,is still true. Every one of those items needs to be done at some point, but I think we forget, I forget, that all of me needs to be at a baseline of good. If something needs to get done, but we do not add the weight of our personal state of being, then we are not weighing the options appropriately. That said, when I drafted the list – I was in a good place at that moment. And then… I wasn’t.

I got home and was really tired. Strangely tired for me. Like a tired that I said, “I’m not drinking more coffee…” and then lean into it. I didn’t stay up any night this weekend. On the weekend, I tend to write and have thinky time until 1 AM or so. We normally go to bed around 10-1030. Well, that is the average; that is the target. I took a nap every afternoon this weekend as well. Which, is also not normal for me. I am glad that I did. Today, which is Monday, I feel all the better for it. So I will adapt. I will re-examine my list of to-do’s and consider the total weight of things.

I think we sometimes build these lists and then convince ourselves that since it was written down we have to push right through it. SMART goals demand follow through, accountability, and often do not get re-evaluated with the fluid lives that we lead. We said… so we should do… I don’t think there is anything wrong with evaluating all of your tasks against yourself (mental/physical). If you break your leg – you are obviously not going to run the marathon. So why do we expect things of ourselves to carry on when we are emotionally or mentally weak. It is like a stigma. If it’s not tangible, it’s not real. It is like we have to have a receipt or justification to… someone… something… Yes, there will be items that must be done – even if your legs are falling off (Monty Python just went Nee… through my head… yes there was a broom horse).

Keep in mind in the example, that you aren’t going to have a list where you feel good and feel bad. When you feel better, you change the numbers… Well I suppose you could feel bad/good at the same time if we look at specific tasks to types of ailment. I digress… Just examples… LOL. All of that to show an example of what I realized and let myself be okay with. So as I start off the new week, feeling slightly rested, I am rethinking my list. I am allowing myself the grace to have not completed what I really wanted to do. Burning out and not being able to enjoy being done – would be pointless, I think.

But, there IS hope! I will be cooking in a short time. I hope to be writing right after that. Since I have it mapped out now, I can’t wait to see it close and culminate to that Ah-Hah. Well, my attempt of an ah-hah anyway.

Rambling now. Ww. Joe

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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MY DAY FRI-DAY & WEEKEND WONDERing

I decided to take the afternoon off today and get a jump on the weekend. I have a few goals for the weekend, which may be lofty, but I think there are some things that I want to tend to.

Chapter 17 of my novel. I have most of the second half of the novel complete in my mind. I am still flushing out details – but have the overall story mapped. Most of my work now is interweaving sub plots and bringing foreshadowing back around. It is a lot more complicated that I realized but that makes it just as fun for me to write – and hopefully you to read. I would like to have the next chapter completed, scheduled, and start chapter 18. If it stays 100 degrees outside – then the likelihood increases.

Update my Will. With the Corona Virus (COVID19) starting to pick up in Douglas County, Lawrence, KS, I realized that I have not updated my Will for some time. I mean it’s not like I have a gillion dollars, but I would like to see a few things through. Along those same lines I would like to specifically call out how I would like my funeral to be managed. I do not mean to be morbid or depressive, but the reality is we do not know when our time ends. And it’s not like I would have a second change, “Oh next time, I will do…” Next time I am coming back as a trash panda. I’m naming myself Rocket for sh*ts and giggles.

Move my Author Site to its own domain. I mistakenly purchased WordPress Premium for another year (whoops) and really do not want to put more effort into the business related website that I was into last year. I used to blog about consultant type issues in business and frankly I just do not want to spend time thinking about business all day. So I currently have my domain just redirecting to the WordPress version of my author size. joepederson.com redirects to https://josephapederson.wordpress.com/. I am just going to add that domain to the account, and copy my current site there. Flip-flop… well, sort of.

Engross my mind into a new brainless show. We just finished the Michael Peterson trial via The Staircase and The Innocence Project. I have really developed an appreciation for the judicial system (in all of its error and history). So I am taking suggestions if you have an idea as to what would be good. I like a series that is broken up so that I can take it in bite size increments. I like “thinky.”

Continue packing up for the August move. And there is always the dreaded… mmm…mmm.mmmooove. Move. So while I have an apartment taken care of, there is still the big move that needs to happen August 01. So there is much more packing, organization, and planning to do to get ready. The nice thing is (which the window is drastically shrinking), we have the ability to gradually put away non-essential items. We are still out annoyingly far enough that certain items, although infrequent, really cannot be packed just yet.

Make a meal or two. Lastly – it is time to order some groceries. While I mentioned it in an earlier post, some of the staples are low. I have really enjoyed cooking and baking, and it is something that I look forward to doing. I am thinking about a keto friendly sweet n’ sour pork with riced cauliflower.

So here’s to a weekend that is at our doorstep. Lots to do – but nothing so urgent that stress will take over. What are you doing this weekend?

Ww. Joe

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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instapot keto million dollar chicken low carb

I ran out of time to make anything super fancy tonight – and I am out of some ingredients. So I scrounged around for a high protein/fat keto-based meal. The original recipe, from Pinterest, had a few things that I didn’t have or have time to make. I ended up with a pretty darn good recipe that used cream cheese, mayo, chicken, and the old Instapot.

Ingredients

4 oz. softened cream cheese (I put mine in the microwave for 20-30 sec)

1/4 cup mayonnaise

8 cherry tomatoes

1/4 cup colby jack cheese + sprinkle as a topper (maybe another 2 tbs)

3-4 b/s chicken breast or thighs

Slice the baby tomatoes in 1/3’s or 1/2’s

Mix the cream cheese, mayo, tomatoes and 1/4 cup colby jack into a bowl

Place a couple tbs on top of each piece of chicken covering most of the chicken but leaving a creamy mound

Lay the chicken on the grate in the Instapot and set on manual for 25 mins.

Pull out when done and add a little more of the mixture if you so desire.

Sprinkle cheese on top of the hot chicken.

Serve.

I served with cut cucumbers and a side of the cream cheese mixture as a dip. I also fried some green beans in butter as a side. Turned out pretty good.

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apfe2020 · 5 years ago

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 16)

Continued from chapter 15 of the Devastation Series.

His lifeless mannerisms made it hard for me to judge his next words. I was used to doctors not being warm and friendly – especially specialists, but I would have preferred the AI’s prognosis. Some places primarily used AI for routine visits. The AI would often have an avatar to make the event more human-esk. There were two schools of thought with AI doctors. One was the AI would act as the specialist since computers were able to have the in-depth knowledge of a focused topic. The other group thought was that a generalist has better as AI, since the amount of knowledge that could be sifted through in a single moment, covering more possibilities and able to predict more calculable scenarios. Frankly, I did not care at that moment, I just wanted to be assured and get a solution that resulted in a fishing trip when he got better… “How bad is it Doctor?” I asked, not really wanting to hear what he would say next. “Jake, is it” The doctor continued with my nod, “your dad has fallen into a coma. I am pretty certain that it is a complication from the cancer and treatments. It wore heavily on his body, it appears…” He conducted what seemed like an entire lecture explaining the details of what had happened to Dad. His voice faded in and out like a large fan blade was spinning in front of me, or maybe a door being opened and shut. I felt Valerie place her hand on my shoulder and the doctor’s voice came back into focus. “Your father has stopped the break down of oxygen and dispelling the waste gases. All of his motor functions are intact, but he has lost communication from his brain. With the trauma to his body, his lungs have stopped processing, and without oxygen, the brain then ceased to function.” “Cease-d?” I asked with an emphasis on the past tense. “Jake…” the doctor took a deep breath, “your father is not really alive. The machines are keeping his bodily functions going, but without it, he would shut down… minutes? Maybe a little longer?” “What does that mean?” I asked, not wanting to comprehend. “It means, that we can leave him on this life support, but the duration will not change the result. When the body stops this form of processing – there is nothing we can do to gain connectivity back with the brain. Its a system failure, not just an organ or treatment protocol.” He said plainly, trying to judge my next reactions. Tears welled up in my eyes and one slid off my cheek and hit my jeans. “We can give you a little bit to talk about it, I am sorry, son…” He patted my knee and slid back in the chair then walked out of the room. Valerie’s eyes were filled with water, but she never did cry. Instead, she turned to me, and I fell into her shoulder. The tears quickly soaked her shirt and she cooed along with “shhh-shh-shhh” sounds. She cupped the back of my head; I was stone.

We went on like that for a while after the doctor left. Tears, and shoulders, and empty gazes repeated for a couple of hours. The nurse would check back and see us then leave again. The heart monitors acted like a metronome keeping everything in time. Beep…Beep…Beep… Perfect pace and a perfect beat. If only it was doing anything, I thought to myself. Miniature grieving cycles erupted from deep within, but I did not have any words to paint the pictures of my emotions. I imagine they would have been dark rapid scribbles like a child frantically putting all of his weight on the crayon. Everything felt messy.

Valerie never let go, and I always remembered that. I had a friend in my corner in those moments. She had feelings too – but stopped the pursuit of them and just catered to me. I saw a tear fall from her face, only after I sobbed in my worst moment. We were both grieving the reality, though. We had no hope and that was the most devastating thing for us. You are supposed to go to the doctor, they give you a shot… sew up a wound… give you a treatment… and you walk away better. It just did not feel fair. The doctor finally came back in, likely between rounds. He pulled up the same chair and scooted closer towards us. He got on our level and brought a welcoming-embracing vibe. I did not envy that part of his job.

“Jake,” he started softly with his raspy voice. He touched at my knee, “there was no pain. And you’re not holding on to… Him…” He pointed to my chest, “Hold on here.” My chest expanded as I inhaled with an exaggerated exhale. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying…” I looked up at an angle to him. “What’s next?” “Whenever you are ready, we will unplug the power to the machines. His body will start shutting down… It is not something that you have to see or stay for… Some people do and some do not.” He watched Valerie and me as he attempted compassion. “I will stay, ” I looked to Valerie, which she acknowledged with a nod. “Okay then, I will tell the nurses and they will prepare. They will be in to talk you through it…” He patted my knee, “I am sorry, son…” His knees popped as got up. He slid the rolling chair back near the desk then looked back at us and gestured a small wave with his hand.

Valerie saw the tears well in my eyes which she signaled by a squeeze of my arm. “You know, you do not have to…” She started to say when I intervened. “Will you stay with me?” I looked to her in a suggestive plea tone. “Oh honey…” she looked straight into my eyes, “I will if that is what you want – I would really like to for me as well,” she reassured me with a pat on the knee. We sat there with the continued beeps, and oxygen machine creating oxygen. I went to the door and looked down the hall, no nurse in sight. I needed to move around for a moment. I walked out of the room and found my way to the nurse’s station. “May I have some coffee? Or the vending machines?” I asked the quiet elderly nurse behind a set of monitors. “Sure dear, just go to the break-room around the corner – you will find vending machines, coffee, and a pod machine if you don’t mind the kind we keep in there.” She pointed around the corner to my left. I forced a smile and cautiously navigated around the corner to a small room tucked in, off to the side.

I walked in and the motion lighting kicked on, slightly brightening the room. I scanned the options in the vending but only felt more nauseous by the sugar-coated frosting lumps that lined the shelves. There were chips, muffins, and other pastries, along with gum, mints, and a small tin of jerky. I decided to pass on the options and looked at the coffee vending machine. I saw the machine was powered by E-VendingPlus which was the most common network of payments for vending. Once set up, a fingerprint could be used anywhere followed by the last four of a security code that you selected. You could opt for another layer of security by text, but it seemed that every time I wanted a treat – the network would lag and I would miss my chance. I decided to get a small cocoa as an offering to Valerie and made the selection. I grabbed a small to-go cup off to the side and poured a cup of coffee for me from the bulk pod coffee pot. I sat that off to the side and went to the restroom around the corner while the cocoa brewed.

I walked back into the lounge and grabbed the cocoa and coffee. I shuffled back to the room while balancing the drinks as to not spill anything. I tapped on the door and pushed my way in. Valerie had shed a tear or two but tucked it all back away by the time I arrived. The nurse had arrived and said she would be right back to discuss what was next. I handed Valerie the cocoa apologetically offering it to her. She smelled it, sipped, and sat it off to the side. “Thank you, Jake,” she said then cleared her throat. I motioned to her that she had a cream-stash. I settled back into the chair and took a few controlled breaths. Moments of stillness passed until the nurse came back in.

She went over the details which were very hard to hear. The machines would be shut off, but the monitors would continue to operate. The length of time would not be certain but they believed that it would not be very long, whatever that meant… She assured us that there was no pain, and that way was the natural way of letting things run their course. She walked around the bed, and touched his face as if to say “It will be over soon.” She tucked the blanket into the bed as if snuggling him in. I realized that he was no longer there. The spirit – the light – the charisma that resided in a person’s body, in their face, was absent. I was confused but also realizing this was just a step in the process. We scooted the chairs closer and the nurse looked to us for approval. I nodded and she followed up with a few clicks then unplugged one of the machines. The room got slightly quieter as the pump creating oxygen stopped. His breaths continued, just shallower and slower.

It took a long time to get through the process. Neither of us had experienced anything like that before, and we had no idea what to expect. We watched his body change, slowly, in fractional increments throughout a couple of hours. We took turns telling a story about life with Dad. Her stories were more recent and mostly revolved around the farm. My stories were of childhood mischief and times before I left home after college. It was nice to paint a semi-seamless timeline and have joy without any judgment or feeling included. I felt my grins and my cheeks tingle for holding them. I saw her light up with stories about his stubbornness. We passed the time with tales of love and happiness. We gave his body a spirit with our words; he was in the room with us. When the very end came, and the light flickered out.

His body slowed and the beeping became less in time and more sporadic. Like a domino set lined up to knock down, the chips started to fall. His breaths became deeper and less frequent. The artificial life that was in his body, slowly faded away, and the little light left snuffed out. We stayed by his side until the very end. The nurse came in and asked if we needed anything. She covered his face with the blanket and finalized that it was done. I touched his hand one last time, before being prepared for display. Or did he want cremation? I would have to ask his lawyer tomorrow. The hands were no longer warm but cool to touch. His hands didn’t grip mine and he didn’t move or gesture as we prepared to leave. I had spent all of my tears for the moment, and Valerie maintained her composure. We walked to the car in the most silence we had for hours. There was an absent feeling among us.

Neither of us were hungry, so I stopped at the convenience store by the hospital. I purchased a cigar, a bottle of Dad’s favorite bourbon, and a bag of vinegar & pickle chips. Valerie didn’t want anything and gave me a sideways frown with my drink selection. I had forgotten about her history, I was only thinking of me. She did not judge me or hold it against me as I got back into the driver’s seat. She had set up some music and had put her hair into a side braid. She was trying to relax, and the music climbed over my babbling while we continued to the apartment. I felt different. I am not sure what that meant, specifically, but the drive was not the same as it was earlier. A lot had happened in the last 24 hours and I had new experiences. I felt like a changed man and blessed to have been by my dad’s side. He was not alone.

The shadows grew darker as the sun started to set and lightning flashed in the sky, flickering in the pillowy gray clouds. The season of storms that disappear and reappear without much warning, was upon us. The wind had started to pick up as we pulled into the parking lo. The treetops bent with the wind pulling into the storm. Valerie looked up and out the front windshield bouncing to the side windows. “I think we are going to get wet…” She murmured at the glass and fogged up the window. I felt weird asking – and I felt weird not asking, “Want to come up? I promise I will not try anything…” I shrugged my shoulders trying to brush off the awkwardness with sarcasm. “Even being chivalrous, you think with your… You assume that I would even think that – let alone try anything.” She chirped. “You are full of yourself. Thinking that I was thinking about you thinking…Ok – whatever… you may come read journals or hangout if you so desire,” I chuckled. “I will stop up for a little bit…” She bounced back unphased. “Slap your mask down – let’s go.” I asserted sliding my mask down while opening the car door. She did the same. As we walked across the parking lot a rushing sound barreled after us. We picked up the pace and the zipper pulled away dropping a large amount of water on us before we made it to the safety of the awning. I fumbled for my keys and she looked at me with annoyance. “Seriously? Now would be a good time for a thumb…” She was cut off by the swing of the door. “Trust me – I know what would be more convenient.” I raised an eyebrow back at her. We wiped our feet on the dated rug and the cool breeze from the air conditioning sent chills over us. We creaked and squeaked down the hallway to room 116 where, again, I fumbled for keys. I was getting faster – but mastery was still a distant accomplishment. I swung the door open and saw the bottle laying against the walls I entered along with piles of clothes stirred from the morning rummage. “Looks like what I remember…” Valerie poked at me. “Hush…” I replied shutting the door closing us inside. It was weirdly delightful to have company at that moment.

I walked around and placed the convenience store items on the counter. I acted busy for a moment, then poured a small glass to drink and then settled into the couch. To my surprise, Valerie got up and poured a small glass for herself as well. She added a couple of ice cubes and came to the opposite side of the couch. It was then when the awkwardness smacked us in the face. The elephant had become an entire heard, so it would have seemed. The fact that I was effectively squatting, my father had just passed, we are practically strangers, I am drinking my depression, and we were sitting on my couch may have lent to the feeling. Out of the blue, I spoke out, “Do I have to call the hospital back?” “The funeral arrangement staff will contact you, likely tomorrow.” She calmly replied. “What am I doing Valerie?” I asked called out, feeling the weight settle as I took a shot like drink. “Jake – what does that mean?” She inquired. I shared the thoughts in my mind – and shewed the elephants into a corner. My feelings of oddness, my confusion, and lack of any assertiveness did not unsettle her. Maggie would have been upset. When my mind wandered, she became frustrated, often at a disproportionate level, but that was different with Valerie. She had the makings of a close friend. Times like these make relationships.

I continued to sip on my drink until it was empty which I would refill and repeat. As I took another sip, my wrist motion-activated my watch – 08:45 PM. My words were starting to slur together and emotions were festering the size of my intoxication level. Self-awareness was the first feeling to escape me, which was common for others in my situation. “I am ssoorrry Valer….” I stopped myself as she put a finger to her lips. “Stop it. I promise you – I am not going to sit by while you drink yourself stupid every night. However, sh*t gets hard sometimes, and everyone needs a moment… Some play music… some write stories… some just talk… and while I think you do other things – a drink is the first comfort ” She trailed off. She was right, of course. The weight was lifted off my chest and replaced with a buzzing lightness that disregarded the very real things things going on. I tried to continue, “I don’t felt… feel… like I had time with him. All of those wasted years, ruined time, because of my choices.” “Jake, there were some distant times. Rocky even, maybe…” She finished her shot, with a cringe and continued, “But that does not change what you did have. The distant years didn’t remove the good memories that you have. He loved you, Jake. He always talked about you – since I have known him, anyway.” “How I was not there… or how he wished he could see…” I stammered. “No, Jake. They weren’t all bubbly and sparks didn’t shoot out of your ass like a unicorn – but he talked about the things you guys did. Or what he knew you were doing. He was p-r-o-u-d of you, Jake.” She continued to emphasize my name to ensure that I was not drifting off. She started asking about what I did remember. It was perfect timing since I was about ready to nod off. I was eager to talk though. That drunken story mode was at the forefront and I rambled on for some time – in and out of conversations. They were all over the place as I excitedly remembered different things to share with her. I took another full shot. I was starting to feel a very tired and tingling sensation in the pit of my stomach. I opened the chips to curb whatever was going on inside.

I remember picking my bobble-head off the couch arm. Like a sprinter taking off after set, I lunged into a run to the bathroom, falling to my hands and knees over the porcelain utility. The alcohol was too much for my system and it needed to rid itself of me. I curled inside of myself heaving everything into the water. The smell impaled my face and splattered on my cheeks and forehead. The sparkling white toilet looked more like a trucker restroom than what I was using just a short time ago. I remember hearing her voice come in behind me. She put her hand on my back and sat on the side of the tub. I was not aware of much outside of my 1:1 with the bowl. Her tone was soothing but her words were unrecognizable to me at that moment.

I remember cramping and wiping off my mouth with a wet cloth. I woke back up later asleep on the couch. The reclining chair was moved close beside the couch, near me and I could see a figure in the darkness. The lights were out and two tiny blankets were being used by us. Her hand was poised by where my head was laying as if she stroked my head. I had so much emotion inside of me, and all I wanted to do was go away… My head was pounding so I went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. Against better judgement I chugged a shot. Then I gulped another and felt the burn down my throat. I swished the water inside my mouth and spat into the sink. I curled up on the couch and waited for the shot to kick in. I cramped from the drinks, but I dreaded the next steps even more: funeral home and legal things.

The sunlight beamed onto the couch and sweat came over me as I hid in the blanket. An instant heat consumed my body and I threw the blankets off of me. I startled awake and bolted straight up – trying to figure out the recent timeline. The chair next to me was empty, but a blanket was there. I was not alone. Valerie was in that chair at some point, it was not a dream. I remembered a few tidbits from the prior evening. I remembered laying in the bathroom as she sat beside me. I remembered her soothing voice during all of the discomforts. I rubbed my eyes – where did she go, I wondered. My doubt kicked in and I assumed that it was all too much. The loss of my father then watching someone that she just met become a basket-case would not be inviting to anyone. I stumbled over to the kitchen and took another swig. The burning was familiar and I exhaled leaning into the sting.

I was several drinks in when Valerie barged back through the door. I was awake and active as was a buzz. I was in the cheerful state when your brain is creative and smiles decorate your face. “Welcome back?” I blurted out. “Did you really need to drink more?” She cut straight to the point. She was also being rhetorical. She had a feeling of sorrow or disappointment about her that I would come to know well. She slid her mask off of her head and sat it on the table. In her other hand was a coffee carrier. She twisted a drink out and handed it to me. “Drink this Jake. I need you today. Your dad – needs… you… today.” She had a pleading in her voice that was laced with empathy and frustration. She sat the coffee down beside of me. I looked down and away and grabbed the coffee heading back to the couch.

I got properly dressed and sipped the chai coffee that she got for me. We had to go to the funeral home and she ushered me along. We put on our masks and went to her car. Valerie had an all manual car, which was not common anymore. It was several years older with less tech involved. She was one of the few people that did all of the driving and you could tell that she enjoyed it. She turned on a modern radio new age station. It was peaceful and the voices were soft. It may have even been a Christian station, I could not tell. The buzz took me in and out of an attention span riding to the funeral home. We drove mostly in silence despite, aside from the music, my attempts to spark some conversation. Valerie was not pleased with me – and I only had part of the reason why.

We arrived at the funeral home and were greeted by a larger man in a very sharp grey suit. His tie was from a comic that I used to enjoy, and he had a salesperson tone in his voice. His PPE was of a drawn smile. “Greetings and welcome to…” he trailed off to me. I was in awe of the elegance of the building. The building, while impressive, also started to feel oppressive. I heard Valerie say Dad’s name, and we were guided to a room off to the side. The man showed us to seats and walked around and slid the creaking chair back for him. He sat down and got onto a computer with several clicks. Once he had what he was looking for he muttered “There it is…” and put the information up on the second screen facing us. He proceeded to go through the options that Dad had selected and make sure that we were still on board with those selections. Dad knew that his time was shorter than most – and hated the thought of anyone being burdened by something he caused. Most of the arrangements were pre-selected by Dad.

We spent hours going through each piece of paperwork. The details became clearer to me as time passed. I felt both shame for my actions and frustration as I just wanted my dad back. Valerie was talkative and we discussed many of the items. She had known my father for some time and regarded him as a father like figure to her. When watching them interact the other day, before he passed, it was obvious that he felt the same for her. The fact that she was sitting beside me meant a lot. I did not have to go through that moment alone and I believe that she felt the same. We wrapped up after covering just about every aspect of the service and were assured that this would be a great remembrance.

Valerie dropped me off at the door to the apartment. She instructed me to go get some rest and consider not drinking anything. “It is okay to feel sad, Jake. It is okay to just feel…” She encouraged me to press on and lean into my feelings. The look on her face was more from disappointment than frustration towards me. There was a level of empathy still buried within her as well that sent the cue “I understand you.” She left the apartment and headed back to my Dad’s where she said she would do a quick version of chores. The sun was going down slowly and she didn’t want to let it go another day. I admired her strength and her sense of what was right. I held a slight amount of envy since that is what I wished I was feeling. The door screeched shut and echoed down the hallway as I headed towards the apartment.

I opened the door on the first try and bounded my keys on the counter. I went straight to the fridge and pulled out the large half-full bottle. “You need to sober up, Jake…” I said to myself. I took two big gulps and poured a small glass on ice. The spicy tingle in my throat memories from yesterday and I looked towards the couch. The chair was so close to the couch and the blanket pattern left in the chair indicated she laid right at my head. I recalled several words she said the prior night. Each one was full of tenderness and care. I sipped from the water glass and stood at the bar counter. I noticed the Mac open and a sticky note posted to the screen.

The realization of what was happening in a day started an implosion in me. I took a couple more big swigs from the bottle and carried my drink to the couch. I wanted to think about something else for now, and I was not sure how to do that. I felt like everything was flying at me. If I was a ship at sea – I would have been attempting to stay afloat with a cascade of enemy fire. I walked over and grabbed the Mac, and sat down on the couch. The last code word was circled now; I did not recall it being before. I entered the letters that were circled into the login screen and prepared to shut the book when it switched to a desktop. I could not believe that I got in! There were hundreds of notes and videos scattered throughout layers and layers of specific folders. I was sure that it meant something – but couldn’t stay focused long enough to think it through. I opened the older file dates and loaded the video. It was a vlog or video journal. Samuel had recorded hundreds of hours of discussion. I sipped my drink.

The darkness set in and my body became fluid. Before I knew it the video was playing to the top of my head, I passed out on the couch corner. I recalled waking up a couple more times with even more shame. I finished my glass. Valerie…

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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