Love You to Pieces

“Jesus Christ it’s cold out here”, I said to know one in particular. My companions were in no position to hear me hence I really didn’t expect them to respond. I stopped digging for a moment to warm my hands, they were beginning to feel like a couple of frozen steaks, at least I couldn’t feel the blisters that had formed and then popped in a brief flood of warm fluid. I couldn’t see well enough in the darkness, but I was quite sure they had started bleeding shortly thereafter. I reached into the pocket of my jacket and lit a cigarette, it took forever to get my lighter to work, it must have gotten wet. Naturally it had to be raining, that cold, dreary October rain that chills you all the way through the skeleton. I’d be damn lucky not to have pneumonia when this job was finished.

“Hey will you stop fuckin’ around and finish up for God’s sake I’m gettin’ wet out here.” I could swear I heard my wife Tina’s voice from somewhere in the vicinity, must have been the wind.
“It’s a little hard to dig in the goddamn rain,” I found myself shouting in response. “Not to mention its a little dark out here.” I realized I probably shouldn’t be yelling and quickly scanned the area. Just the trees, there bony arms clung hopelessly to their remaining leaves. In the distance I could see the back of my in-laws’ house, hopefully the baby was still asleep. I wiped my watch on my sweatshirt and figured it to be about one A.M. With no light the glow in the dark hands were giving up the ghost. I would have to check in on him in a few minutes, he usually got a little hungry around two.

I resumed digging, the blade of the shovel piercing the soft earth. I really would have thought the wet ground would be easier to dig but it was worse. With each shovel full of dirt, half of the load would slosh back into the hole. I found myself standing in a hell of a mess as the hole got deeper. At least I didn’t have far to go, another foot or so would do it.

***

The day had begun like so many others, with a six o’clock knee in the back. “Get up and get the baby a bottle”, Tina bellowed as she pulled the blankets over her head. “And make me some coffee.” With that I quickly rose, fed the baby, and made her coffee. I even fed that ridiculous poodle, Fifi before leaving for work. I was twenty minutes into my forty minute commute and thoroughly enjoying the silence when the cell phone rang.
“Hi, Doug, it’s Carol.” Carol is my mother in law, although most of the time she and Tina are more like twin sisters, that is to say they seem to share two halves of the same brain. They’re also both short, stout brunettes more willing to dish out shit than take any.   “Hi Ma” I replied as I narrowly avoided the semi that failed to realize I was currently in the lane he wanted. “What can I do for ya?” I hoped it would be something simple. “I just spoke to Tina and we decided tonight would be a good time for you to come over and dig out the trench around the pond. The hurricanes have made a real mess out back in the woods and obviously we don’t want the water getting up to the house. Unfortunately your father in-law can’t do it alone.”

“Listen, Carol, I’m sure it will be fine. The pond is a couple of hundred yards from the house and I have some homework to finish for class and a meeting. . . “ She couldn’t resist cutting me off, “Doug you know they’re calling for more rain this week and October is always a wet month anyway. Your family is your responsibility now and if you’re not finished school at this point in your life you’re just wasting everybody’s time and money, you’re thirty six for Christ’s sake. I’ll see you right after work.” The phone went dead in my hand. “What the fuck?” I mumbled as I glanced at the GPS transponder mounted on the dash. Tina had insisted on retrofitting the car with one so she could keep tabs on me, ostensibly for the purpose of tracking my fuel consumption. Just for kicks I decided today was a good day to get off of I95 one exit early. My cell rang about thirty seconds later.
“Where are you going?” Tina barked in my ear. “Good morning Ho. How’s your morning so far?” I figured I would try to be nice. “Well since you asked, the dog shit on the floor, and your demon-spawn son threw his breakfast on the floor. It’ll be here for you to clean up when you get home.” I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, “Do you think it’s a good idea to leave it on the floor? What if the baby tries to eat it?” Little “D” was at the stage where everything went in his mouth with the notable exception of his food. At least he looked like me with the dark hair and light eyes. Hopefully he wouldn’t end up with my stocky physique. “With the money you make I guess he’d better get used to it, huh? And don’t try to change the subject. Why did you get off at exit three? You know the most efficient route is to take exit four to Rt. 31. We don’t own an oil company you know.” I could just picture her with her filthy Snoopy slippers propped up on the kitchen table. I wondered what kind of adult feels the need to wear such a thing. “I needed a pack of smokes, you didn’t leave me any this. . . “I LEFT YOU TWO CIGARETTES!” She roared into the phone it was so loud the tiny speaker distorted in a cry for mercy. “We agreed you were going to quit.” At this point she up-shifted into overdrive, “And I don’t appreciate you giving my mother an attitude, they don’t ask for help very often, so when you get home I want you to clean up this shit, get changed and get your fat ass over there to help. Got it? Goodbye.”
Mercifully she hung up on me. I swung into the Quick Check parking lot. I hated to spend the money to buy butts in Jersey, I really did, but what can ya do? When you’re out you’re out, I bought a carton. Fuck it.

***

“I’m freezing my ass off” I whisper to myself. I look down and realize my hole is probably four or five feet deep and pretty damn uniform if I do say so myself, and since no one else is talkin’ I guess that’s the bottom line, more or less. A quick glance at my watch tells me nothing, to dark. I figure I better go up and check on the baby. Just getting out of the hole is a chore and for a moment, as the wall begins to crumble in my hands, I wonder if I’m gonna be buried alive out here. Probably wouldn’t be that bad of a deal, but eventually I do get out. Making my way up the muddied path, the trees are reaching out, occasionally slapping me with their bony fingers the cobwebs caress my face, man I really hope those webs are vacant. At long last I make it through to the patio out back with its multiple levels and hand laid stone, and glance up at the bedroom window. Little “D” loves to look out the blinds. At two years old he is infinitely curious as to the goings on out- doors. Nothing, he must still be asleep. Good. I make up a quick bottle. Sloshing through the house I make no effort to clean off my feet, in fact I ‘m taking a real pleasure in seeing my footprints, black as ink on the beige carpet. Carol was a compulsive cleaner. “Clean that ya rotten bitch.” I have to chuckle at the sound of my voice in the silence, it sounds oddly like someone else’s.
From the time he was an infant Little”D” had an odd way about him. We said he was an “old soul” because he would give us these little looks that seemed to say he had seen it all before. It was rather strange, to tell the truth. He rarely slept and when he did, just putting a blanket over him would cause him to sit up instantly, completely aware of your presence, no disorientation whatsoever. As I approached his room I peeked in through the door which was always left ajar.

“Ha da” he said through the darkness. There was no way he could have seen me but as I peered in through the doorway I saw his tiny head staring right at me. “Hey little guy, you’re supposed to be asleep.” I placed the bottle in the crib, “goodnight son, I’ll see you in the morning.” I kissed the top of his head and turned to leave, I glanced back over my shoulder to see him looking back, a half grin on his face. “Ga Da” he mumbled past the bottle and lay back down.
I went out to the garage to check on my bundles, I had a duffle bag and two throw rugs to take care of. I grabbed the duffle, choosing it because of the handle, and started back through the woods. A quick glimpse over my shoulder confirmed my suspicion, Little ”D” was staring out the window, the porch light illuminating his face like a maniacal jack o’ lantern. I reached the hole and went back for the carpets. I arrived with the last of my luggage, so to speak, plopped to the ground and lit a smoke. I leaned back against a tree stump, the leaf of a nearby shrub licking my ear, much like our family dog would sometimes do. My heart was beating so hard it seemed like I could actually hear it, like the drums in a jungle movie, I wanted to doze but there was no time, I was already running late.

***
“You’re late.” The minute I arrived home it started. “You should have been here fifteen minutes ago.” She was pacing around the garage like a caged animal. “There was traffic, you know traffic, when the road is occupied by too many cars the result is traffic.” I was disgusted, work had sucked, and I really didn’t feel like listening to any more of this. “Well you need to go upstairs and get the baby then we’re gonna go.” I continued toward the door that connects to the family room. I noticed the handle of my floor jack lying on the concrete and paused to pick it up, I placed it on top of my shoulder. “You don’t have time to play with your tools, you play with your tools all day, probably fucking up everybody else’s cars I’m sure.” She was chasing me to the door, bellowing all the way. I stopped, feeling a slight pressure in my hand as she ran into me, followed very slowly by a thud. I looked around to see her sitting on the floor holding her head; she really didn’t look a bit out of place on the greasy garage floor. I was amazed for just a split second at the silence as she sat holding her head. I liked it, and I wanted more. Peace and quiet were just around the corner when Fifi began gnawing at my calf and growling incessantly, so I had to quiet him as well. A jack handle is a damn versatile tool, anywhere you need it, it will provide leverage. Up and down, a simple motion when you think about it, but you can’t argue with results. Enjoying the quiet as I was, I disassembled the malfunctioning members of the household; An easy job really when you have the right tools, an air saw here a pry bar there and viola. I packed everything into the duffle bag and grabbed the baby. Then I drove over to the in-laws. Silently little “D” grinned in the rearview.

I let myself into the garage and grabbed a shovel off the wall. They must have been waiting for me because my father in-law appeared instantaneously in a black suit. “Hey Doug,” he extended his hand. “Glad you could make it. Listen I’m sorry I won’t be able to help you out there but Carol forgot we’re going to the symphony tonight, I hope. . . “ THWACK. a nice metallic thud. He must have been surprised, he sure looked it, all wide eyed and unblinking. I caught Carol at her dressing table, I used the cord from her hair dryer to quiet her. I rolled them up in carpets. Then I started digging.

***

I squatted down to smooth the last of the dirt by hand, relishing the quiet, only the patter of the rain on the leaves and the sound of my hand on the mud to break the utter silence. It’ll be at least a week before anybody misses them, I figured, hell it might even be longer. Nobody likes them. I went up to get some sleep; I really couldn’t see a reason to go home. I paused just a moment to check on my son, not surprisingly he was staring right back at me. “Goodad” he smiled, “Good night son.” It’s the funniest thing,, I swear I could feel him staring at me through the wall.

THE END

***

Perspiration

“Excuse me?” The voice behind him was insistent, but in the din of Saturday shoppers, could have been meant for anyone.

“Mr. Nettles?” The young woman struggled to make herself heard. Jack Nettles had an uncomfortable moment as he ran down the short list of people he could possibly run into.

The voice did not sound as if it were old enough to be a friend. It was likely a former student or something equally annoying. As he turned his head to face what would almost certainly be an unwelcome pain in the ass, his wife looped a shopping bag over his forearm.

“I’m going in that shoe store. Why don’t you sit on that bench over there, the one in the shade? She pointed a pudgy finger at a bench in a relatively shady spot of Palmer Square. It occurred to him, and not for the first time, just how much he had grown to despise being micro managed after forty years of marriage.

“Mr. Jack Nettles?” The insistent pain in the ass cornered him as he settled his frame onto the bench across from P.J.Soles. He looked up from his bench into the face of a woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She was a pleasant looking young lady, perhaps a bit familiar, perhaps not.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. What can I do for you?” He watched the sidewalk traffic weave around the young woman standing in the middle of the sidewalk. She stared at him without speaking, measuring him. He wondered if she might be insane.

“Are you a former student?” He was becoming uncomfortable with her presence. There was a familiar cast to the woman’s eyes, something nagging. Over her shoulders the gargoyles atop the University loomed over Nassau Street.

“I saw your name on the faculty web page.” She shuffled her feet slightly and adjusted the backpack slung over her shoulder. Her chestnut hair kept getting tangled in the strap.

“Ah yes, it seems they have neglected to remove my electronic presence. I retired last May.”

The woman continued to stand before him occasionally buffeted by the passing throng of late summer shoppers, gawkers, and newly arrived freshman.

“Did you say you were a student at the university?” Jack reached into the pocket of his sport jacket, and retrieved a handkerchief and gently dabbed his brow. The morning had been cool and the jacket seemed like a reasonable plan as they set off to breakfast, but now as the sun neared its zenith he wished he had left it home.

“No I recognized you from your book jacket photo; it’s a lot more current than the one on the faculty web page.” Jack began to relax; he determined this woman was one of the few people to find themselves in possession of his collected poetry.

“That’s the beauty of faculty web pages. One is permitted to remain whatever age they were when the photo was taken. That particular photo was taken during the sixties if I’m not mistaken.”

“It was really just dumb luck. I was walking along, trying to find, ”the groove” as you say in your book, and there you were. Like magic.”

“Magic, Hmph.” Jack smiled in spite of himself, “I promise you what you see here are little more than a couple of old folks shopping.” Jack removed the bag containing his wife’s purchases and set it between his too white sneakers. He hated these shoes, he had often claimed that there was precious little as pathetic as an old man in athletic clothing.

“Can I offer you a seat?”

The Woman sat down and began rummaging through her own bag eventually producing a copy of Jack’s book.

“Would you mind signing this for me?”

“So you’re the one who bought my book.” He reached into his pocket for a pen; He had kept a pen in his jacket pockets for over fifty years. He reached for the book and turned it over in his hands. It was in remarkably good condition, the beige cover was unstained, the pages worn but just enough. It had been well owned, he was glad.

“Who should I make this out to?”

“It’s for my mother, Carol Burns.”

Jack started at the name, surely this was a coincidence. But he knew, it came to him in the vague remembrance of a face, the echo of a long ago voice. Jack looked down at his jacket convinced he would see his heart beating through his clothing. He heard it in his ears, felt the beating in his throat.

“I think she was a student of yours, a few years back.” She watched him coolly.

A bead of sweat traced his spine, sliding down his back to the waistband of his boxers. He felt his testicles slam against his body, all but disappearing into his torso.

“Is that so?” He mustered every fiber of self-control he had.

“Yes nearly thirty years ago, she was in your poetry class. She says it was the time of her life. That she enjoyed every minute of it. “ A grin touched the corners of her mouth.

Jack could feel himself wilting under the gaze of this young woman. Her eyes were looking into him, he could feel her searching.

“That’s wonderful.” Jack finished signing the book and handed it back t the woman. His hand trembled just slightly. He looked into her face, meeting her stare, unable to hold it. He mopped his forehead with his now soaked handkerchief. Behind him the bell on the door clanged and he could hear his wife exchanging farewells with the shop keeper.

The woman before him was suddenly joined by another, a scruffy though pretty hippy holdover in an Army Pea-Coat.

“Are you ready?” The newcomer asked the woman.

“Almost, I’ll be right there.” The newcomer smiled and sat on a wall a few feet from away. She lit a cigarette and Jack felt the pang of a craving he hadn’t had for nearly twenty years.

“I’m surprised you don’t remember her. She said you taught her a lot.” She seemed to sense his discomfort.

Jack suddenly felt the urge to urinate. Sweat now covered his entire body.

“It was a long time ago, too many years, too many students.” Jack looked directly at her, hoping his lie would hold up.

Of course he remembered her. It had been the most exciting summer of his life. She had been student in his summer poetry seminar and while he had always felt guilty for going outside his marriage, he had never regretted the affair.

“I’m sorry.”

Jack’s wife approached, joking good naturedly with a passerby as the second girl approached.

“C’mon, Jackie let’s get going.” Her friend said.

“It was nice to meet you.” Jackie stood. She hesitated, unsure for the first time. She seemed to have another thought.

“My pleasure,” Jack said as she was pulled away by her friend. Jack watched her disappear into the crowd.

“Who was that?” His wife thrust another bag into his hands as he fumbled with his handkerchief.

“She had a copy of my book she wanted signed.”

His wife chuckled.

“So she’s the one, huh? C’mon let’s get you of the sun. You’re covered in sweat.”

She linked her arm in his as he struggled with the bags. For a moment he was unsure of his footing, at last they rejoined the sidewalk.

 

THE END

***

DUSK

Jack Nettles gripped the steering wheel tighter. The cold sank into his misshapen fingers.

I don’t see any way I’m going to make it before nightfall. It’s already getting dark. What time is it anyway? It doesn’t matter, I’ll get there this time. I know the way. They won’t stop me this time.

Jack pulled the knob on the dashboard and four round lamps produced a faint yellow glow in the twilight. They should have let me be the last time. I would have been there already and everyone would be better off. Everything would be squared away by now. They don’t understand that sometimes tough decisions have to be made; the business of life demands it. They’ll never understand. Maybe they shouldn’t have to. It’s not really their fault, they’re good kids, they’ve just had it too easy. It’s not like I want them to suffer that’s not the point. This may not be the easiest solution but it’s the only one that’s gonna work. I’ll get where I’m goin’ and I’ll see her again and I’ll tell her everything. At least the traffic is light; I haven’t seen another car since I left. Where are all the other cars? What is that god awful ringing? No phone in this car, no sir, when I drive I drive, none of this nonsense.

Jack settled into the upholstery, the red leather matching his frame, sometimes caressing, sometimes simply giving up under a bony shoulder blade or an errant elbow. A whiff of exhaust found its way to into the cabin. Jack inhaled and closed his eyes.

You just can’t beat that smell. No cabin filter here. In this one you knew you were in a machine not some rolling extension of the house. What the hell is an infotainment system anyway? Phh! It wasn’t always like this was it? I guess it was. His brow creased, an unwelcome thought crossed his mind.

I wonder if Katie will be there. What if she’s not there? The last time I told her she didn’t believe me, she couldn’t understand. Couldn’t know I had to get married. That I didn’t really give a rat’s ass for Jeannie, and to be fair she certainly didn’t care about me. She’ll understand this time though, I know it, and times have changed.

“Dad, hey Dad, its Robbie pick up.”

“Fuck off! Can’t you see I’m driving?” Jack shouted at the answering machine in the kitchen. The road unraveled like a spool of velvet materializing in the dim haze of the headlights. First one way, then another, weaving time with his heart. The engine a low murmur, a barely audible vibration providing the background to his wandering thoughts. He looked down at the stripes on the sleeves of his uniform, dress blues. They were as crisp as the day they were sown on.

I didn’t want to do it I had to. Wife number one, yes a mistake but who could know how big at the time. A six year tour of duty through hell. I wish I knew where Billy was. I went through that shitstorm for him, to be there, to be a dad. I was eighteen and home on leave when I met her for Christ’s sake. How old was he that day he showed up at the house? Twenty? Twenty-one? He said he’d be in touch but I never heard from him again. I guess I didn’t impress him.

“Hey Dad!”

“Shut up Robbie, I said I’m on the road. And if you don’t stop kicking that seat I’ll turn this car around, you hear?”

“Relax, Jack, they’re just kids.” A voice from another life.

Wife number two. Hell bent on turning the kids into a bunch of pansies. Thirteen years with that one and for what? Jack rolled his head on his neck first to one side and back again. Jesus Billy, I sure was sorry to give you up but your ma all but made me sign those papers when she remarried.

“If you’re there pick up.”

“Pick up, I’m not too old to pick up my foot and put it in your ass.” Pick up. What did they know about picking up? How many times did any of them have to pick up and start over? I’ve done it more times than I can count. More times than I can count.

How many times have I thrown my clothes into a garbage bag and scrounged around for an apartment or a hotel or a foxhole, a barracks? How many times? Pick up. They don’t know what that means. When I tried to make it easy on them and walked away they said ‘Daddy don’t love me’. They didn’t understand, I did it for them and I never complained. But did it matter?

What difference does any of it make now? None of it matters anymore. I’ve driven too far to care. I’ll find Katie and make it all right.

Jack floated in the darkness, whisper quiet for a time, the sound of his breathing mingling with the purr of the engine. The interior a haze of exhaust fumes. He felt the brass buttons on his uniform, saw them gleaming in the glow of the dashboard, a greenish white in the absolute black. He reached down to flip on the radio. Static. A tear fell on the breast of his coat. He closed his eyes. He could feel his chin on his chest.

“It’s okay Jackie he didn’t mean it.” His mother brushed the hair away from his face. The bruise on her face was a perfect match for the one welling up on his. “Your father’s just having a rough day.”

“He’s not daddy Momma.”

Her hand across his cheek, the sound of it ringing in his ear.

“Well he’s the only daddy this family has and you damn well better remember that”.

he Army fixed that problem, fixed it permanently. I ran to that recruiting office. I wish you were still alive old man, I really do. I wasn’t the best parent but I was better than you. At least while she let me. I can’t sit here feeling bad; I did the best I could.

Jack looked around; the roadside was barren to his eye, a blur through the moisture, the road unbroken by lines or even a shoulder. He was enveloped in darkness. He wiped a sleeve across his eyes, blurrier still.

I need a road sign or something. I swear I didn’t think it would take this long. Everything takes too long. I never wanted to live this long, to be an old man with grown children some I know some I don’t. Grandchildren, were there others? Too long to be useful. I wanted to die in Vietnam like so many others. That’s why I enlisted. They didn’t have to draft me. I wanted to come home in a box. None of this three wives, no lifetime of misery. Here today gone today! Not a minute too soon. It shouldn’t have come to this, me and my television, nearly inseparable. Not another soul for years. The silence is too much to bear. Living in a room in Robbie’s house, a burden.

A light flashed, illuminating nothing. The road unfolded and unfolded and unfolded.

I sat in front of that TV until there was nothing left. I just wanted someone, anyone. I just wanted something. But there was nothing, nothing since the last wife, too young, too ambitious. I was an idiot, I should have just nodded my head and went on but I couldn’t. Now I’m too tired and it’s late. I’ve driven too long and too far and ended up nowhere. Same as always. They say you reap what you sow but that’s a lie. I planted in good faith and the soil returned nothing and too many times worse than nothing. More pain than they could know. After the Army I tried to find Katie but she was on her first marriage and it’s just hard to want to mess something like that up. It should have worked out.

“It was as it was meant to be, Jack.”

He glanced to his right to see her riding shotgun. She looked the same now as she did so many years before. The time erased. She was a teenage girl again with everything yet to come. There was no surprise in him. He turned back to the windshield.

“No it wasn’t, not for me.” He shook his head back and forth, violently against the upholstery, childlike. “Nothing went the way I had hoped or could even settle for. I worked hard, damn hard, and still it all went wrong.” He beat his palm, hardened by years of physical labor, on the steering wheel. He gripped the wheel with fingers mangled by arthritis and injury.

“Nothing was as it was meant to be. I wouldn’t wish this on anybody. I’m tired of being alone, and I’m just tired.”

A sharp rapping broke his spell, he looked around and Katie, of course, was gone. She had been for a long time. The rap came again Boom-Boom-Boom. He looked at the dashboard scanning for signs of trouble. But he couldn’t read a thing, the glow was too intense it began to surge and pulse behind the glass, illuminating nothing and everything sharing no information.

“Where did you go Katie?”

“I’m still here.” The voice was closer but he couldn’t see her. Boom-Boom Boom his door was opening. He was above it all now. He watched them pull his other self from the car.

“Dad, Dad? Somebody shut off the fucking car.” Jack looked into his son’s face as he watched the scene unfold below him. It seemed that he was looking through two sets of eyes.

The commotion was faint now. Three paramedics filled the space.

“Dad wake up. Wake up.”

A faint whine filled his world. He watched it all; they were pulling his boy away now. It was getting dark again the bright lights fading silence but for the whine, the whine was everything, long continuous droning. A door buzzer? It doesn’t matter. It formed a fracture in his being. The paramedics stood up. Another checked his watch. Robbie walked away, head down. The whine, desperate now, clinging, filled his mind, reaching up, escalating. The whine was everywhere. And then it was nothing.

THE END

***