A Summer with Mint

            I didn’t realize that he could talk until after I graduated from high school.  I think that’s really the first time I had heard him speak… well, anything more than two sentences at least.  It seemed that after he had carved the ham or turkey on major holidays he would always disappear.  To me, he was the idea of a grandpa.  I always knew he was there but I never understood him, and I never tried.  He was always there in the background ready to help.  He was like a cowboy in an old western; like Clint Eastwood or John Wayne.  It’s kind of funny to think of him pulling a pistol out of his belt and shooting someone, though this family is crazy enough to warrant it. 

            My mom never really talked about him much either.  She always bought him some golf-related gift for his birthday, Christmas, and Father’s Day.  I guess he loved golf.  I didn’t see the appeal in it, mostly because when my dad took me all I came away with was frustration.  Frustration that the ball wouldn’t go straight and frustration that my father was nearly the most annoying man on earth (second only to my little brother)!  So I guess what I am trying to say is that I never really understood the old guy.  It took me almost twenty years to see him as a real person, not just some afterthought.

            I think it’s impossible for a kid to think of anyone born in the 1930’s as a real person. They’re more of relics than anything.  I used to think people that old stopped remembering things.  I mean, seriously, why would you want to remember that much? Don’t all old people have Alzheimer’s?  Fortunately, not all old people smell bad and forget everything.  As I get older I realize this.

            Like I said, it wasn’t until after I graduated from high school all those years ago that I started to learn about my grandfather.  I had returned from college for the summer and the idea of staying with my parents made me physically ill.  Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but when you’re twenty years old and think you know everything, having your parents treat you like a child is nauseating.  So, due to these circumstances, I made my summer abode with my grandparents.  They were quiet and kept to themselves so I would be free to do whatever I wanted.  However, that summer I learned something that I never thought I’d learn from my grandparents.

            I arrived at my grandparents’ house late Saturday night.  When I got off the small bush-plane (resisting the urge to kiss the ground and rejoice that the plane had not crashed into the tarmac or the mountainside) I looked through the big windows of the small airport and saw my family filling the lobby.  My brothers and sisters with all their kids waved through the dirty glass.  I had married later in life and was the odd one out without any kids of my own.  I still think that having kids before you’re twenty-five is a mistake, but they didn’t feel that way. 

            So after hugs, kisses, hellos and telling them how horrible the trip up had been, we made our way to Grandma Jo’s house.  I think we called it her house because Grandpa was always so quiet.  My uncle Mark was there waiting for us when we made our way into the house.  He was handicapped; the mind of young boy resided inside the body of a gargantuan forty-something year-old man.  He didn’t like family gatherings, so I wasn’t expecting to see much of him.  I can remember as a little kid being terrified of him. More than once my mom had to yank me from his hands. Of course, this was after we had taunted him so much that his only recourse was to place us in the doorway and shut the door on our heads.  Looking back it’s almost comical; the pains in memories seem to fade with the years.  Mark said hello to me and took his plate of food into his room to eat alone, watching some old Disney movie.

            This trip was different.  Grandma Jo was exceptionally ornery with Mom.  Mom hated that Grandma wouldn’t change out of her dirty pink robe.  Mom would tell her that she smelled bad and needed to shower.  Grandma would retort that my mother had always been the difficult one, and that she’d better shut the hell up.  Mom always seemed so frustrated with Grandma Jo.  

            Grandpa was quiet.  He was always doing something - cleaning or preparing meals. I remember every morning being awoken by Grandpa at eleven for breakfast.  They slept like teenagers in that house.  I would make my way upstairs and would sit with Grandpa, Grandma Jo and Uncle Mark and eat eggs with ham and salsa. Grandma would complain about the news, which she watched every waking moment of her life.   Mark would comment, “Jo, you’re old. You’re an old woman.”  It was his way of worrying for her.  Their old age scared him about as much as it scared them.

            A few days into my stay Grandpa and I finally started to open up to each other.  I would help him with the housework and we would discuss politics.  Mainly I just agreed with whatever he said.  There was no way I was going to let him know that I was slightly liberal when he was a born in the red republican.  He hated the president at the time, loved the war, and didn’t understand why we never talked about God anymore. 

            I watched Grandpa a lot trying to figure out why he was always so busy.  I finally realized that everything he did was for Grandma Jo.  I watched him bend his brittle old spine over backward for her.  He would cook for her, set her clothes out for her to shower (though she hardly ever did), and give her medicine for the diabetes that turned her skinny feet blue.  He was gentle with her.  He would watch her and I could see how much he still loved her after 60 years of marriage.  He also looked tired, the tired look that a schoolteacher has after too many years in the public schooling system, or a foster mother with one too many children. 

            Wanting to do something nice for Grandpa I suggested that we go golfing.  He hadn’t been since I had gotten there and I knew he loved it.  I just hoped it would be better than going with my dad.  Grandpa’s eyes lit up when I asked him and he said in his old man voice, “Oh, I don’t know…how does next Wednesday sound?” I just smiled.

            Grandpa and I started to talk more and more during the week leading up to the golfing trip.  We were buddies and I loved being around him.  When we went to the golf course everyone knew him.  I didn’t know this at the time but Grandpa used to go and volunteer all around the small town and although he never talked about it, it seemed everyone in our town knew and loved him for it.  It wasn’t until the end of the summer that I found out that he was a Free Mason and before my grandmother’s diabetes forced her to stay at home, he had been pretty active. 

            He rented me some clubs and we set off to the first hole.  He showed me how to tee off and I followed suit.  After my first hit, we both realized it was going to be a long nine holes.  He took a deep breath and I decided that I might as well ask him.  I had wanted to know for a long time but wasn’t sure if I should pry.

            “Grandpa? When did you meet Grandma Jo?” I felt like a little kid.

            He looked up at the sky. “1950. It was in the summer.” My heart raced, he did remember.  Instead of asking anything else I just let him stew with the thoughts in his head.  I figured the story would eventually wiggle its way out.  “She was wearing a yellow sundress that day.” He smiled to himself.

            “You remember what she was wearing? Impressive.” I laughed.

            “Sylvia Jo was the prettiest thing I had ever seen.”  He looked at me as if judging whether or not to tell me the story.  “Here, look.”  He pulled his wallet out and took an old browning photo from it.  The woman in it was gorgeous.  Her eyes hadn’t changed a bit, but that was all I recognized.  Her smile was glamorous, it was like a pictures you see on the history channel of an old Hollywood star from the Golden Era.  “This was taken right before we got married in Texas.  I took it to the army with me. I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have it.”  The picture looked worn and was in an old baseball card protector.  He smiled at her picture as he placed it back in his wallet.

            “Tell me about her.” I wanted to know so bad that I felt stupid.

            “When I first met her I was seventeen and she was sixteen.” I thought how love must have come earlier to people in those days; maybe it was all the wars.  “She lived in my town but for some reason we never met in school.  She was something special.  I used to borrow my Pa’s old ford truck; he had bought it just after the war from a widow. It was a dull blue-gray color but I was proud to be driving.  I would take the truck, pick her up, and just drive.  She loved that truck about as much as I did.”  Grandpa lined up his shot and made it onto the green.  I had almost forgotten we were golfing.

            “I remember it so clearly.  I think that’s what helps me most now that she’s starting to forget.  I remember how she used to hold me.  I never thought I could love anyone.  But then came Sylvia Jo.  Her father didn’t like me much.” He laughed at the memory, or my golf swing.  I was somehow going further into the woods.  “Just get it onto the fairway.” he coached me, “I used to go over in the afternoon and pick her up while her pa was at work.  She would pack a lunch and we would go down to the lake.  I remember the first time we kissed.”

            “Oh really?” I gave him a quick look. The movies had it wrong, men told stories far more than women in hair salons.

            He smiled, “It was about a month after I had met her and we had been seeing each other all the time.  So, one Sunday after church I picked her up and we went to our normal spot on the lake.  It was a bumpy drive and she was cuddled up to me.  She smelled like flowers.  She always made me laugh.  Just by looking at me she could get me to laugh.  I drove slower that day.  Remember that, Adam, when times are good drive slower.” He continued. “We got to our tree, it was a huge weeping willow that shaded us from the sun.  It was close enough to the lake that we tied a rope to swing into the water on.  I suppose if you find that tree you will still find ‘Mint+Jo’ carved into it.” He paused to think.  “Well, it was later that we carved that.
           “This time we got there, laid out the blanket and sat down to eat some of the Sunday dinner her mother was going to be serving that night.  Jo used to take what her mother had cooked instead of making sandwiches.  It wasn’t until after we were married that I realized she couldn’t cook.” I laughed and missed most of the ball as I swung, nicking it so it fell from the tee. “Mulligan.” He said.

            “I love golf…only game that it’s within the rules to cheat.  So, that’s why Grandma Jo never cooks?”

            “Yeah, that’s my Jo.  I remember how happy she was when we got our first microwave.”

            “I bet. So you were at the tree…” I wanted to hear more of the story and he was on a roll.  There was no way I was going to let him stop.

            “We sat and ate in the shade just talking then Jo started to take her clothes off! I remembered being confused but very excited.  You see back in the 50’s you didn’t just start undressing around people.  She had put her bathing suit on underneath her dress.  ‘Jo, what are you doing?’ I asked her as she made her way to the lake. ‘Swimming, Mint!’ she yelled over her shoulder.  My first thought was that her father was going to kill me.  But… I stripped down to my boxers and followed suit.  I swung out on the rope and landed on my belly.  When I came up she was laughing and my chest was red.  She swam over to see how badly I had hurt myself, I was faking that it hurt more then it did.  When she got close enough I pushed her under.  She came up yelling ‘Mint, you dirty scoundrel!’ She splashed me and before I knew what was happening… oh, you don’t want to hear this.”

            “Are you kidding me, Grandpa?” We were standing in the middle of the green on hole three.

            “Well, okay then. Before I knew what was happening I had her in my arms kissing her.” I was grinning so big – just proud of the old guy.

            “She’s something special, your grandmother, she is something special.  I couldn’t wait to be with her whenever I was away at work.  I would think of things to say to just get her to smile.  I never came to her house without a flower in my hand.  She was everything.  It was ‘all about Jo’ my ma used to say.  She laughed one evening when I asked Pa for the truck keys and he asked where I was going to take Jo that night. I told them about a new film at the drive-in it was called “All About Eve”.  Ma thought I was joking about the title.  Jo and I loved to go to the movies.  It was really something else to drive up and see the huge screen.  They used to play cartoons before the show.  Oh, I remember going to the drive-in for the first time. It was a recording of a concert in Carnegie Hall.  I slept through that one.  But I remember this time with Jo, it only cost us fifty cents for the each of us and we pulled up to one of stalls and tuned the radio to the station.  That’s what you had to do back then, they would tell you when you bought your tickets what radio station they would broadcast the sound on. So, if you wanted to listen you would tune in.  I used to love being at the drive-in with her.  Jo would turn off the radio and make up her own words to the shows.  Sometimes I would be laughing so hard my stomach would hurt.”  I tried to picture it all in my head.  To see this young couple hopelessly in love laughing to their own jokes in the cab of an old truck that I’ve only seen in movies.  I thought of being twenty and never having been in a serious relationship, never having really kissed a girl.  I felt robbed of what they had enjoyed at a young age.  I wanted that, too. 

            “You make it all sound so easy.  I…”

            “Oh, it was anything but easy!  And now it’s hard, too.  Your grandmother is so much more stubborn than she was.  There are days I almost have to force her to eat.  She won’t take her shots.  Sometimes I think that she is giving up.” He looked sad as he teed his ball.

            “But you still love her… I mean that’s all I’ve seen since I’ve been here.”

            “Of course I love her, the old broad can’t run me off that easily.  I knew it was going to be hard from the moment it started.  That’s what love is though.  It’s the hardest thing you will ever do.  But it makes you better.  I remember when I asked JD, Jo’s father, for her hand in marriage.  I was wearing my uniform because I was enlisted.  I thought he would respect me more if I made sure he knew I was serving the country.  JD was a tall skinny man.  He looked a lot like your oldest brother, Jason.  They have the same smile.  But of course JD never smiled around me ‘til my wedding day. 

            “It was a Sunday evening after dinner that I asked to speak with JD.  I have never been so scared in my whole life, not even in the war.” Grandpa paused and smiled to himself, the memories showing in his eyes.  “JD walked outside to the porch and I followed.  Before I had the chance to say anything JD said, ‘Boy, how do you treat your ma?’ Well, I was at a loss for words.  Then JD taught me something I have never forgotten. He said ‘Boy, back during the depression it was common to have the whole family living in a small house. Albien and I lived with my whole family, some twelve people in a small shack of a house. And you know what I would do every time I got home from scrounging up some old job around town?’ ‘No, sir’ I replied, then he said ‘Well, I would find Albien and give her a kiss and a hug then I would go find Mama. I would go find Mama and give her a kiss on the cheek and then set myself to doin’ whatever task she needed doin’. Do you get what I am saying, Mint?’ When I didn’t respond he said, ‘That’s the kind of thing that makes a man a good husband, and a good man.  If a man loves his Mama, then he’s bound to love his wife.’

             “JD was a respectable man, I wish you could have met him.” I felt a little sad that I had never met my great-grandfather, from what I was hearing he sounded like someone I would have liked to have known. “Well, JD asks me the question again and all I could think to say was ‘Well, Sir, I love my ma almost as much as I love your daughter.’  He said ‘Well that’s all good and well, but how do you treat her?’ Oh boy, was I nervous now. ‘Well, I treat her well, Sir.  I help her with the house chores and sometimes I cook for her when she isn’t feeling well.’ I didn’t know if I had said what he wanted to hear.  He paused for a moment and looked down at me, I guess you don’t remember how tall he was, but he towered over me. Well he said this, ‘Mint, you treat my Jo like a jewel; treat her like she is the greatest thing you will ever have.  She’s my daughter and you treat her like you treat your ma.  Respect her and I don’t reckon we will ever have a problem.’  Well, after he said that I knew it was his way of giving his blessing.  I couldn’t hold back the smile as I told him I would.  We walked back through the front door and he said loudly so everyone could hear, ‘Welcome to the family, Mint.’ Jo was sitting at the table with her sister and older brother.  All three were smiling at us walking in the door.” Grandpa putted his ball in the 6^th hole.

            “So did you propose then and there?”

            “No, I took her out to our tree.  I laid out a blanket and we just held each other and watched the moon’s reflection on the water.  After a while I got up like we were going to leave.  Jo looked as though she had been overlooked by Santa and wouldn’t get a present on Christmas.  I went to that old truck and turned on the lights.  It had gotten too dark, and by God I wanted to see her face when I asked her. Then I got down on my knee and I asked her underneath the willow tree.  Her eyes filled with tears and she said yes.  We couldn’t stop smiling and laughing we were so happy.  That night was when we carved our names in that tree, it was our way of saying we were going to be together for a long time.”

            “Oh that’s cute… Grandpa, you were a romantic.” I said laughing to myself.  “That’s really amazing.  Mom never told me how you and Grandma Jo met.”

            “Well, she never really asked. Remember, your mother grew up in the seventies; it wasn’t the popular thing to ask how your parents did things. Plus, she was too in love with that Osmond boy to think about anything else.”

            “Oh, I am still convinced that she would leave dad if Donny came and asked her to run away with him.”

            “I wouldn’t doubt it.” Grandpa had a sly sense of humor.

            “So what was the wedding like?” I asked as I was lining up to pitch my ball onto the 8^th green. Grandpa held the flag out of the hole. 

            “Oh the wedding was great.  It was at a small church that she attended.  She wore a beautiful white dress and I was wearing my formal uniform from the military.  But the best part of the wedding was the sex.”  Grandpa’s words registered just as I was swinging to hit the ball.  Shocked, I hit it too hard and it flew high and hit Grandpa in the chest and fell a foot from the hole.

            “Oh, crap! Sorry! Are you ok? Did you just say what I think you said?”

            “I didn’t think you were going to get upset and hit me with the ball!” I fell over laughing.  I had never seen this side of my Grandpa.  He was talking to me like a friend.  We told Grandma Jo about me hitting him with the ball, but we never said why I had hit it so badly.  That was our secret. 

            That day was the first day that I finally started to understand Grandpa.  It was the first time I had ever had a full conversation with him.  I am still amazed that he told me so much about his life.  The rest of the summer I was always with Grandpa and we couldn’t stop talking. 

            Grandma Jo started to treat me with more respect than she did my mom.  She would listen to me about taking her medicine or a shower.  She would never fuss or complain about me telling her what to do, but if Mom tried then it was hell to pay.  Mom and I laugh about that now, a teary eyed laugh that the shared memory of loved ones brings. 

            I changed the way I treated my mom and grandma because of what Grandpa Mint told me.  And not even from just the things he told me with his words, but also from how he treated her.  He served Grandma Jo better than I thought possible.  He loved her more than anything else in this world.  I often think that my great-grandpa JD would be proud of his son-in-law.  Grandpa always kept his word to JD.

            So now, whenever I think about love I have this idea of my grandpa.  This idea that love is sitting in an old truck at a drive-in movie making up your own lines to the film.  Or sitting under a weeping willow by a lake holding each other and just existing.  I took my wife to a drive-in theater while we were dating just because it seemed right.  And even better, Grandpa was right! The best part of the wedding wasn’t the ceremony. 

Finding Home

Nate clenched his jaws tight until his teeth felt flat and his temples ached.  His heart raced and he found it hard to catch his breath.  There it was, his big reveal.  He had told her and now all he heard was the absence of her breathing.  A silence that was only broken by the crackling coals in the fire that put off too little heat. 

            “Nathan, I…” he looked up to see her face.  She had dropped his hand and his sweaty palm quickly grew cold.  Her words sent a chill down his spine.  He shivered.

            “Katie, I’m sorry I just couldn’t keep going without telling you.” He was trying to look at those beautiful green eyes that he loved so much.  She wouldn’t look at him.

            “How could you? How…? ” a single tear drew a line that shimmered in the fire’s light on her cheek, “I thought … I just wanted… who are you?”  She turned to face him.  Her face was heavily shadowed from the flames.  His heart stopped when he met her gaze.  He turned from her eyes. He suddenly couldn’t breathe anymore.

            He wanted to say that he was still the man she had fallen in love with; that he was still her Nathan, but he couldn’t. “I dunno.  I thought I had beaten it.”

            “Well, have you? Because it sure as hell sounds like you haven’t!” her hands shook as they wiped at her face. 

            “God, Katie, I wish it was that easy.  I tried to get away from it for so long.  Then when I met you…”

            “Am I nothing to you?” she said. Her voice was unsteady and quiet.

            “You’re everything to me!” he stopped to compose himself, he was trying not to shout at her.  She was so cold.

            “Don’t lie to me! If I were everything then you would… ” She trailed off as she looked up into the darkness.  “Why Nathan? Why would you do this to me?”

            Nate couldn’t bring himself to answer her.  Everything had gone so wrong.  He looked at his soiled fingers and began to rub them against his jeans desperate to clean the dirt off.  “It’s all… wrong,” he said.

            “What the fuck does that mean? Jesus Christ, Nathan, you bring me here to tell me something like this?  What, you think that I will be okay with this? Shit!” He had never heard those words cross her lips.  She hated them; he had tried so hard to stop saying them when they had first started seeing each other.

            “This was a mistake.”

            She stood and motioned to the both of them.  “No. This is a mistake.”

            He stopped the car in her driveway.  They hadn’t spoken a word since they left the campground.  She just looked out the window and cried.  Nathan didn’t understand why she was crying; he was the one that was messed up.  She was fine.  She was perfect.  He was the problem. 

            He couldn’t take it.  He had to hear her voice just one more time.  “Katie… I…” he stepped out of the car.

            “No, Nathan, just go.  I can’t do this.” She stopped in front of her door, the yellow porch light made her look sad.  “Wait… there is one thing.”  She looked at her left hand and, taking a deep breath, pulled the engagement ring off - its twinkle gone.

            “Katie? So this is really it. You’re really just going to walk away from this.”

            “Don’t you dare put this on me! How could you expect me to be ok with this? What, did you think love would be enough? God, you are so… ugh! Just take it and leave!” Katie threw the ring at him as he made his way up the steps. 

            Nathan bent to pick up the ring that had bounced off his chest and said. “I thought you were different, that you…” he shook the tears from his eyes as he stopped himself.  After a second’s pause he turned and returned to his car.

            Her cries followed him, “That I was what? What, Nathan?”

            “My rose.” He said as he fastened his seatbelt and put the car in drive.  “But I guess you were just something that I should have plucked long ago.” He laughed at his own stupid fascination with love that had gotten him here, driving home alone.  He felt like his heart was going to rip apart as the roots of whatever Katie had planted in there twisted and cut till his heart was a bloody pulp in its cavity.

            “Why you back so early? I thought…” Mark started as he entered the kitchen just before noon.

            “That I would be gone till tomorrow? Yeah, me too.” Nathan sat at the decrepit old table eating a piece of pie that had been in the fridge since his mother had surprised him last Sunday.  He held up the ring. “You think they’ll buy it back?”

            “Oh shit, what happened?” Mark said as he pulled a chair out and sat down opposite Nathan.

            “She decided she didn’t want to… why did I get such an expensive ring?”

            “That bitch! What did she do?”

            “They better at least give me store credit for this rock.”

            “Nate, I knew she was wrong from the start.”

            “Then why didn’t you say anything? Jesus! What good is it to have a fag roommate if you wont tell me when I’m doing something stupid?”

            “Ok, first off that’s an offensive term, and second I didn’t want to make you mad.  And I always called her a bitch, you should have caught on to it.”

            “You call everyone bitch! How was I supposed to know it was different with her?”

            “Oh, Nate… I don’t even know what to say.” Mark stared at Nathan from across the table.  Nathan noticed his eyes brighten and quick smile come across his face. “Nate, darling, you will live to tell this tale.”

            Nathan rolled his eyes; he was not in the mood for a song. “Don’t… please for the love of…”

            “A man can tell a thousand lies, I’ve learned my lesson well. Hope I live to tell…” Mark sang horribly off pitch.

            Nathan put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.  He usually laughed at his cousin’s Madonna improvs.  A lump gathered in his throat and swallowing did nothing to quell it.  His hands shook and his breathing began to quiver.  It seemed that his tears could force themselves out of his eyes no matter how tightly he clenched his eyelids. The singing stopped and Nathan felt Mark’s arms around him.

            “She’s not worth it… sshh… it’s okay…” Mark squeezed him tighter. 

            “I’m the one that’s not worth it. She was worth everything.  She was it for me; the one.” He pushed Mark away from him as he stood.  Mark stepped away and let him pass into the hallway that led to his bedroom.

            “Hey, I know this sucks, but I am here for you, Nate.” As Nate pushed his door closed and crumbled to the floor Mark quickly added, “I will slap that bitch silly! Damn whore doesn’t know who she’s messing with.”

            Nate held the ring in front of his tear stained face and watched it glimmer in the sunlight that penetrated through an opening in his brown curtains.  His eyes grew tired of watching the shiny stones and they fell closed, as his breathing grew heavier.

            The small orange bottle stared at Nathan through the mirror, rattling as if it were the quiet music of despair.  He tried not to look at the pills that shook in his trembling hand.  She hadn’t answered any of his calls.  She hadn’t answered her door.  She had written him off.  Three weeks and nothing.  Nothing at all.  There was nothing but this.  His face that had an overgrowth of facial hair.  His hands that always shook.  Mark had stopped talking about her because it always ended the same way - Mark holding him until he could pull himself together enough to return to his monotonous and numb life. 

            Nathan didn’t recognize his reflection; he hadn’t recognized it since before the camping trip.  He was a shell.  A shell that was taking up space and ruining everything it touched.  He didn’t care anymore; everything had been a lie.  He was supposed to have been married forever, to have kids and be happy. But he would never have that.  His problems would keep that from him.  He would only have this sound.  This rattling that was oddly calming to him.  Mark was gone tonight.  Nathan longed to be gone, to not feel this anymore.

            The plastic stuck to his bottom lip as a few pills filled his mouth.  The water was warm; it had sat on the counter for more then an hour.  It was harder to swallow than he had anticipated.  His eyes began to tear up. He wasn’t crying.  It was because he had gagged.  Another mouthful, another burst of warm water.  “Stop crying dammit! You want this!” he said to his weak reflection in the mirror.  A few pills had fallen in the sink, they were small and yellowish. Nathan stared at them each individually as he picked them up one by one and placed them into his mouth. He had to refill his cup and as he did the taste that seeped from the pills almost made him vomit.  The water was cool this time. It was refreshing. 

            He looked at his reflection and started to recognize whom he saw.  It was him, the one he had told Katie about that night by the fire.  It was that man she had rejected.  If only Nathan could just get rid of him.  Then maybe it would be ok again.  He turned his back to the mirror and walked out of the bathroom.  His eyes felt dry and his right leg heavy.  The hallway seemed to shake, his eyes hurt in his head.  Everything felt wrong.  Everything felt dark.  His fingers tingled as he lay on the floor.  He could hear his breathing change.  Short quick gasps every few seconds. Each time the interval increased, even as the light from the bathroom faded. 

            A noise ahead of him. 

            A warm hand on his face. 

            More noise.

            Nothing.

            Nathan lay in bed and stared out the window.  The tree outside moved effortlessly in the wind.  It swelled forward and thrust back.  “Hey there Nathan.” He knew it was Katie.  Her voice was that same annoying pitch it had always been.  A little cold, too.  He didn’t answer.  If she thought he was asleep maybe she would leave.  “Nathan?”

            He hated hearing her say that.  “I would wave you over, but they tied my hands down last night.” Swell and thrust, the tree continued. 

            “My God, Nathan what were you thinking? Why?”

            “Like you give a shit.”

            “Of course I do! I still… Nathan, look at me.”

            Swell and thrust. “You want to fix me and show how caring you are?  Take me back? Is that it?” The leaves danced carelessly during the swells and yet they looked as if they were being whipped back into place during the thrust. “They will all love you so much.”

            “What? Nathan, I just wanted to…let you know that I forgive you.” She grasped his hand. It tensed up as the cold tentacle-like fingers wrapped around his.  He forced them limp, to not respond to the icy touch.  “Come on, Nathan, what were you thinking?”

            “How abnormally long and cold your fingers are.”

            She pulled her hand off his at the sound of the door opening to his hospital room. “What the… oh hooka’ bitch, please! You best be getting your fat ass up outta my chair!” Nathan smiled as the tree swelled again.

            “Hello Mark, I was thinking you were going to be here.”

            “Damn straight I’m here, bitch.  See, I love my cousin a whole helluva lot more than to just leave him; to just walk away like your fat ass did!”

            “Don’t talk to me like that! You don’t understand!”

            “Oh, I think I understand perfectly, bitch! You don’t answer him till he’s almost killed himself! Oh damn girl, you must really love him! I mean, why else would you treat him like that? It musta been love! I hope you know that you did this to him and if I hadn’t walked in he would be dead.  And bitch you best realize that if my cousin had died you woulda been…”

            “What? You think you can hurt me? What the hell can a queer do?”

            As Mark spoke Nate imagined his hands being raised in front of his face pointing at her. “What, bitch? You gunna come in here and act like you gots any right to talk to me like that?” Nathan heard a slap just as the tree outside the window thrust back. “Now get the fuck outta here!”

            Nathan heard the door slam.  “I’m sorry, Nate. I just couldn’t stand that bitch anymore.  She came by last night while you were asleep.  I wouldn’t let her in.  Dammit, I wish you didn’t have to hear that shit now. Its really not what you need.”

            He turned over in bed and looked at his cousin.  “You sounded black just then.”

            Mark smiled. “Oh, that’s just from watching TV, you sound stronger if you yell like a black bitch.” Nate laughed. “There you are.  How are you feeling?”

            “Better now that she’s gone.”

            “Yeah I know, it felt so dark in here when I walked in.”

            “I know, but that’s not what I meant.  She’s gone.  She touched my hand and it wasn’t there anymore.”

            “I swear she did a number on you, because you’re talking like a psycho now.”

            “Mark… don’t call me a psycho when I’m tied up like an animal in a hospital bed because I tried to off myself.” He turned back to look out the window. The wind had stopped. “Its not nice.”

            “I… I’m so sorry, Nate.  I just don’t know how to act around this. I mean when I found you the other night you were pale as a ghost and hardly breathing.  When I touched your face it was like ice and… I just thought you were dead.” Mark paused and when he started again his voice was unsteady. “Nate, I know this is hard for you and I don’t want to make it any tougher than it is.  But don’t you ever try that again.  You are like my brother and if you were gone then I don’t know what I would do.”

            “Oh stop crying you big ole faggot, I don’t think I will be doing this again.” Nate heard him laugh. After a pause his voice grew somber and he said, “I had to do it.  I can’t explain why.  It was my way of…God, I don’t know…coming back? But I think I’m here now.  I was so lost.  I just… wanted to feel something other then numb.  It was like she never really wanted me for me.” Nate stopped himself; he was done talking about her.

            Mark grabbed his hand, “Well then, welcome back.”

            “Addiction is a sickness Nathan.  Its not something that just goes away.”  Dr Reynolds looked across her oak desk at Nate. “No one I talk with wants to face that.”

            “I want to believe that if I just accept, like you say, then it will be easier.  But honestly Doc I don’t see how that would help.”

            “Why did you think the pills would help?”

            Nate paused before he answered.  He remembered looking at himself in the mirror.  “Because if I was gone then it would be gone, too. It just seemed like the only thing I could do at the time.”

            “Nathan in these last few months you have come to see me twice a week and I’ve realized that you don’t really know what you did.” She paused and removed her glasses.  “You are treating it like a child treats spilt milk, sure you say you’re sorry, but you don’t seem to want to clean it up.”

            “I think this is more serious then spilt milk.  I mean…I come here don’t I?” He was starting to think this was just a waste of time.

            “You tell me certain instances from this last year.  I know exactly what Katie said after you told her, I know how Mark reacted and how you looked at yourself when you took the pills.  You keep telling me parts, but you never tell me the whole picture.  Nathan I think you need to accept your addiction.”

            Nate just looked at his hands.  He didn’t know what to say but the more she talked the more he sweat.

            “Its my opinion that you have been compartmentalizing this for so long you don’t know how to live with it.  You know how to hide it quite effectively but you refuse to let it be part of your life.”

            “Why would I want this to be part of my life? Come on! Why would I want to embrace something that has destroyed every part of me?  It almost killed me.  Tell me! Why would I want that? Who would want me with that?” His face was hot and he knew she was seeing him turn red with every word.

            “No one wants to live with half a man.” She leaned forward and placed both her manicured hands on the desk.  Nate caught his breath.  “People like that, people who aren’t whole, are like that because they only want to accept the good in themselves. But, Nate, you need to realize that the bad in us is half of who we are.  You can’t hate half of yourself and expect to be happy.  To accept the bad and broken in you is to accept you.  So, yes it is important to realize that this addiction is part of you now.”

            “I…” he tried to hold back the vibrato the accompanied his words. “I’m scared. “

            “Of what?”

            “That if I do what you tell me, then I will be alone.”

            “But, Nate, haven’t you been alone doing what you’re doing now? I think its time to change things in your life.”

            “Like what?”

            “Small things at first.  Start with a new coffee shop or a new restaurant for lunch.  Try to change your routine. I think you will be surprised how much it helps.”

            Nate walked into a new café to get his morning coffee.  He had about an hour before he had to go to work.  The café was rustic, a lot of earthy hues with a splash of bright color every once and while along the walls.  He instantly liked the feeling of the place.  The coffee was decent and the price better.   Nate sat and read the newspaper trying not to think about her today.  He was starting to forget what she looked like.  The hurt faded with her image.  He wished it were gone entirely.

            When he finished his coffee he got up and started towards the door.  He noticed a familiar blue book as he walked out, The Little Prince.  The women holding it had curly blond hair, a little untamed and wild.  She was smiling to herself as she read.  

            His hands almost slipped on the wooden chair as he pulled it out from her table. “Can I help you?” she asked him with a bit of hostility.  She had an unpleasant look on her face.

            “So, what part are you at?” he motioned towards the book that now lay open on the table.  He felt stupid.  Dr. Reynolds had told him to do things out of the ordinary, that change would help. 

            “Excuse me? Who are you?”

            “Oh, my name is Nate. Well, Nathan, but I don’t like it when people call me that. So call me Nate.” He noticed that, apart from looking extremely nervous, she was rubbing her left wrist with her right thumb.  Maybe it was a nervous tick. 

            “Ok, self-loathing Nathan, what is it that you want? I mean I suppose you didn’t just ruin my perfectly good morning to talk about a book.”

            “Actually… this is my favorite book.”

            “It’s a children’s book.” She took a sip of her coffee.  He took it as a sign that she was relaxing.

            “Then why are you reading it? Are you a child?” He felt stupid flirting again.

            “No, do I look like a child? I am reading it because my sister said I would like it.”

            “Well, do you?” Nate smiled as he looked at the drawing that was on the page - a man and a lamppost. “You’re almost to my favorite part. He’s about to get to earth, he’s about to meet the fox.”

            “I do like it so far. My name is Alicia, by the way. Its nice to meet you, Nate.”

            “You seem quite a bit nicer than just a few seconds ago.”

            “Well, now I know you have actually read the book and you’re not just trying to pick me up.” Her smile was infectious.

            “I thought you hadn’t read it?”

            “I’m a liar, sorry.  But my sister did suggest it to me, only that was a few years ago.”  She laughed and the sun caught her hair.  Nate couldn’t help but stare.  “I love the ending.”

            “You mean when he commits suicide?” Nate hadn’t said that word since it had happened.  He looked down at his hands; he felt the tingling again.

            “He doesn’t kill himself, he goes home!” She said. “And it’s so beautiful, so loving. Oh, this is silly I am going to start crying.”  Nathan reached out for her hands but she pulled them back quickly. 

            On her left wrist he saw a scar extending across it.  Seeing his gaze she turned her hand over. “Oh, I’m sorry.” She looked at him hard.  They looked at each other for what seemed like an hour, but couldn’t have been more than a second.  He recognized something in her. “Then I guess two months ago I tried to go home, too.” He looked down at the picture in the book.  His life before the night he had tried to kill himself seemed to have no purpose.  He felt like he had been the lamplighter in the picture, doing things just because he was supposed to. When she spoke he looked back up at her.

            “I…” she looked at her wrist. “Fourteen months and five days ago I tried, too.”  She looked at him.  “Do you regret it?”

            “No. You?”

            “I…wanted to for a long time. But no, I don’t.”  She stood quickly.  “So, tomorrow?”

            He smiled as he handed her the blue book with a small boy on the front.  “Well you are quite the fox… yeah I’ll be here.”