She saw him standing at the end of the dock. Tall, lanky. About her age. Brown hair that looked dried from the sun, curled up at the ends. Strange she thought, being the seven oclock hour. The sun seemed warmer than usual. The birds were chirping and a slight breeze blew from the west. It seemed to be the making of a good day.
The door screamed aloud on her daddys old truck when it opened . Reaching into the rusty truck bed she swung her backpack over her right shoulder and a big towel over her left and slammed the door. It shouted again, startling him. He looked as if hed been caught red handed. Stiff jerky movements, wondering what he should do now. Besides this being her families private dock she couldnt imagine why the frightened face. Reaching the end of the pier where he sat avoiding her direction she said hello. Hearing no answer she laid her large towel neatly to the right of him over the splintery boards that were faded and worn with the weather. She placed each book from her backpack down perfectly in order of importance atop one another and sat Indian style in front of them sighing heavily. Turning his way her long auburn hair flipped onto her back and she smiled. He glanced and then stared away awkwardly. “Exams, I hatem.” she said . It was not until then did she see a concrete block sitting on his left under his arm. He dangled his feet over the edge of the dock and his shoes barely cleared the water. A brown rope was tied from his ankle to the block. His jeans looked like he had worn them a week. His shirt she thought had definitely been slept in. “Whats up with the rock?” She blurted. “Huh? Nothing.” With about three feet between them she removed her shoes. She had planned to get some early morning sun and had worn her swim suit beneath her shirt and shorts. Leaving them on for a while longer she thought might be a good idea. At least until he left. “Your not gonna, like, off yourself in my lake are ya?” She snorted and let out a breath. He shrugged.
She thought suddenly, Oh my God Im so stupid. This guys gonna kill himself and Im askin dumb questions. What do I do, like what do I do? Her mind was racing. She was always one to speak before she thought and often times did get her into a tiff or two. The next three minutes seemed like a lifetime as they both sat staring at the water.
“This is my families pier. Do you live around here?” for lack of something better to say.
“Umm, uh, no not really.” he stammered. “My mother used to live here when she was little and well, uh, likes to come and sit here some.”
She knew her family had owned the land and lake for all of her seventeen years. Her parents had bought the place from the bank at auction the year of their engagement in 1986. She was born the next year.
“I dont know who owned the place before we bought it? Whats her name?” she said .
“ Shelley Hartwick.” “Whats yours?” he asked shyly. Mines Shelly too. Shelly Carver.” “Cool.” he mumbled . “Jay.” “Jay?” “ Mines Jay.” “Oh. Okay. Nice to meet you Jay. I have exams this next week and I thought I would get some studying done and get , uh, catch some rays at the same time. You know, two birds with one stone?” Shelly needed to make conversation. If not for him, to calm her own unsteady nerves.
“So early?” he asked. “I gotta be back before dad gets off at noon.” “Oh.” he returned.
“Dont you have exams next week?” I am stupid, stupid, stupid, like he cares about exams…he wont be here next week. “I quit last year.” “Why?” it came out before she could stop it. “Dunno.”
I gotta do sumpthin…sumpthin… she thought. “Jay, why do you wanna kill yerself?” “Who said I was?” he shot back. “Yer sitting there tied to a cinderblock, whatcha plannin to do, feed the fish? Oh shit, I am sorry I dont know what to say to ya. I dont know ya, but I dont want ya to die. I just met ya.” she rambled. “Really?” “Really.” “Why?” “Well, you cant have enough friends in this world and I really didn’t want to sit out here all by myself today even though your trespassin and even though I gotta study.. I , I dunno .. your to young to die? You gotta fall in love and, and ,get married. Have kids and all that stuff ya know?”
“Nobody wants to… love me. Even know me.” “I wanna know ya.” “Yeah?” “Yeah.” “Why?” “Well, why not?”
“Did you know I went to your school?” “My school? Sheridan High ?” she returned. Yes.
“Did not.” “Did too, I sat three seats behind you in Biology, Anita Treadwell.” “You mean- Mrs. Ineeda Treadmill.” She laughed until she almost cried and when she wiped the tears from her eyes she looked at him and he was smiling from ear to ear. Beautiful white teeth. The straightest youve ever seen. His eyes squinty, have shut from smilage. “You laugh funny.” “Do not.” “Do too.” “Okay ,so I dont remember you. It dont mean ya gotta leave this earth.” “it aint because of you its because of everybody. They laugh at my clothes, my hair, the way I walk. I aint got no friends.... Its like I dont exist.” “You do exist. I see you. Sittin right there in fronta me. There you are.” He smiled and for the first time all morning their eyes met. She smiled back and she talked about how people did notice him at least enough to make fun. How she knew this girl once who ragged her so badly that she would cry knowing she had to face her at school the next day. That it took just one new friend to show that bully that she could be ignored. She finally talked him into helping her study for her exams and she made him a deal. If she made better than a B on her final he wouldnt jump. If not then well….
She made him promise to meet back at the lake everyday after school until Friday to help her study. The final exam was Chemistry. Her worst and most dreaded subject. Surprising to her, he was a wiz.
Shelly went home spirit soaring. She kept someone from deaths door. As she pulled into the dirt drive she parked beneath the old oak tree she used to swing in as a child. She remembered long summer days swinging standing up on that tire swing feeling that tingle in her stomach with each pass. Her father always busy at work doing something in the yard to keep the place up. As she grew older he spent more and more time at work. Until he finally decided on twelve hour shifts at the Newspaper where he manned the printing machines.
She noticed her Dad fumbling around the corner of the house, arms full of tomatoes he had just picked from the garden. “Wanna Mater Samitch?” he asked in an overly made up country twang. “Let me hep ya rustle up some vittles” she rebounded. They both preceded into the kitchen where the atmosphere was plain and tidy. A simple, no frills, loving, place she called home. She washed and sliced the tomatoes and her father retrieved the bread and poured two tall glasses of sweet tea. They sat down across from one another and settled into their lunch.
“Dad.? What makes people commit suicide?”
“ What a question shell?” he answered bewildered . “People just get depressed I guess, honey. Why you askin?” “ I met someone down at the lake this morning who seemed pretty down. I was afraid he might do something dumb.” “Like what Shell? At our lake? This Morning?” He kept on. Interrupting she went on to explain how the time passed until she arrived home. He was worried she shouldnt get to close to this boy. That he might involve her in some way. That maybe they should call the police. After all, he was trespassing and he could be a danger to himself or others. But it was important to Shelly that they keep this between them. To see if Jay meets her tomorrow and keeps his end of the bargain. He knew she had a strong sense of what was right and trusted her instincts even though she was not quite eighteen.
The life they had led had not been easy. She lost her mother and he a wife when Susan Carver died from breast cancer shortly after Shellys fourth Birthday. It was awkward at times for him to raise Shelly alone. Susans parents lived three states away. His were in their forties when he was born the last of three kids. His mother who was the only relative left in the area and wasnt much help living in an assisted living facility.
When Shelly rested her head on her pillow that night she prayed for Jay. That he wouldnt do anything sudden. That she could help him to see life was just beginning.
TO BE CONTINUED.....
A Christmas Drive
It was Christmas Eve. My family and I drove from Wake Forest, North Carolina to the border of Virginia for our annual family gathering.
My brother lived in a small town off the beaten path by the name of Bullock. His house was large and decorated in full holiday attire. A grand fire was crackling in the fireplace surrounded by chilled hands outstretched for warmth. Chattering mouths laughing and smiling. The tree was twinkling with small multicolored lights hidden behind ornaments hand made and store bought. Presents were piled high underneath the tree and along the border of the wall that stretched into the kitchen. The smell of warm turkey filled the air and green bean casserole had just been taken from the oven. It was nice to see everyone all together seemingly happy.
After our stomachs were full and presents were opened the thank yous were said and hugs were given. The goodbyes were in full swing. Bags of gifts were being packed into the cars and minivans parked outside. Coats, scarves and gloves were searched out and snuggly wrapped around the children. They looked like little fat snowmen wobbling off. Promises to stay in touch and see each other real soon floated off into the cold outside and away with each visitor. The van was warmed up and ready to go. We piled in and I found a radio station that was playing nothing but Christmas music for the month of December.
I drove along the back roads of Bullock through Grassy Creek toward the town of Stovall. The four way stop with a flashing yellow light meant we had arrived. I hung a right and traveled down a two lane highway. It continued on with no street lights and was dark but the sky was clear. I could see the stars shining from above. Flashing from dim to bright with the passing cars made a familiar clicking sound that sometimes would coincide with the songs on the radio. James Taylor’s soothing voice warmed my soul and the decorations from each home we passed was a delight to my eyes. I would slow at some of the more extravagant ones and see the families inside like dolls in miniature houses. Bing Crosby and Burl Ives. Debra Lee, Elvis, and the Trans Siberian Orchestra played on as I drove. I enjoyed hymns, rock and classical music.
Joy, Love and Happiness to have my family safe and warm, quiet and fed was a welcome spiritual feeling. I had never felt a more relaxing , satisfied with the world kind of peace before. I said a small prayer that all the world could feel the contentment I was feeling. That the troops in Iraq were safe and silent this night.
The regalia of the season adorned The city of Oxford as we stopped for the traffic lights. It was late and the stores were all closed but the lights all gleamed as if the world was a happy place. Rolling out of town taking the curves at a safe speed I noticed three deer standing majestically upon a hill on my left. What a beautiful sight. Even the animal kingdom had gathered together I thought.
The outskirts of Creedmoor were dim besides the flashing light at the intersection of what was called Wilton. The backwoods of Franklinton were lovely with the mailboxes dressed in wreaths and lights. Blow up snowmen and Disney characters large as life landscaped lawns to each side of us. Once on Highway number one through Youngsville toward Wake Forest I felt sad the ride would soon end. The warm feeling of togetherness. No words had to be spoken. The calmness around us , peace in our hearts. There was no arguing, fighting or even minor disagreements. Many relatives were skeptical of having to drive a couple of hours late at night far from home.
As for myself, I hope it is the same every year for years to come and the special spiritual feelings stay the same on my annual Christmas Eve drive home.
GOING HOME
The last of the dishes were done. Grandmas old wrinkled hands placed the saucer in the drain board and I pulled the plug. I watched the sudsy water spiral around and around counter-clockwise until it disappeared with a final chug and gulp. Grandma dried her hands on her apron while the front of my shirt seemed appropriate to me. “ Its coming up a cloud. ” Her voice carried out the kitchen door , through the screened door to the small courtyard where under the big oak tree hung a swing my uncle would sway away the time. He stood up tall on his wobbly stilt legs. Said he could tell it was gonna rain on account his arthritic knees were actin up. He limped passed me and mussed my hair. I heard the screen door slam as he went inside. “ Im goin home now! ” I hollered over my shoulder.
I was nothing but knees and elbows at eleven years old. I reminded myself of the little girl in the movie “ To Kill a Mockingbird.” I saw on a film at school. I was somewhere between a weed and a blossom. Just a little nuisance of a kid. I struggled to keep the dog in the fence as I squeezed through the pole and metal gate. The latch fell with a clung when it shut. I stopped and looked down the winding dirt road until it faded away into the distance. It was a sandy, pebbly road where a stray dandelion would grow in the hump where the cars didnt drive. My bike lay where I dropped it and I leaned it against the fence. The wind picked up and swirled the yellow and gold leaves around me like magic. I swatted at them then decided to run home through the woods home and beat the rain. I turned and looked at the sky over the barn and passed the fields to the clearing before the trees. The sky was a blue gray like water color paint. Halfway across the field it began to spray light wispy rain. There was a chill in the air and my arms were clammy to the touch. When I reached the tree line I felt the grass and pine needles stuck to the bottom of my feet. My hair was damp and stringy on my forehead.
I headed into the forest and it shielded me from the rain somewhat. I dodged rocks, logs and stumps before I reached the creek. There my father had chopped trees and bushes and mowed a path to that point from the house. First I needed to cross the stream. The water was not quite high enough to cover the boulder I used as a jump to the other side. It was mossy and wet but my landing was sure. I leaped again and landed in a meadow that was my favorite place to play. On sunny days I would bring a blanket and lay in the sun by the stream. Sometimes I would jump the rocks, fall in and get wet.
The sky was dimming with the storm and the nightfall mixed in. I continued on the path up the hill past the Venus Flytrap plant that my brothers and I would stop and poke with a stick to watch close up. The rain was falling faster and my pace quickened with my heart. Darkness fell rapidly but I knew the path like the back of my hand. I turned corners and recognized the shapes of trees. My tree house hung in the limbs to the right of the path as I sprinted by. I stepped on an acorn and hopped a few steps while spewing oh’s and ahhs from my mouth. I skipped across the bridge my dad built over a small ravine where the water was high now with the rain. Our ducks waddled and waded and didnt seem to mind being wet. Looking up the hill at the house I had to pass the blueberry bushes that even in the rain I could not pass up picking a few plump ones. The pony and goats were standing as still as statues underneath the shelter of the barn. I noticed the chickens were under the back porch as I climbed the steps. The rooster was standing vigilant on his perch made from a tall pole in the corner of the deck beneath my brothers window. How that bird would torment him crowing at the crack of dawn until he got wiped out with a Pepsi bottle one fateful morning.
I slid the glass doors opened and closed behind me. The house was quiet and dark. I stripped off my shirt
and shorts and climbed the bunks to the top. Snuggled under the covers, listening to the drumming of the
raindrops on the tin roof, I was safe. I was warm. I was home.
By Wendy Roberson
12-13-05
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