Aloha

Watching the moonrise gave her no joy. Each day ended with the same sense of failure. No highlight had occurred during the course of the preceding twenty-three hours to uplift her, except for the knowledge that finally and thankfully, the last hour of it was coming and would quickly die.

She closed her eyes embracing the darkness of her eyelids with no one around to antagonize her causing angry outbursts to bloom and blossom into pulsing vein-covered flowers. Reality floated in, carried by a hovercraft across a sea of perennial grasses and evergreen leaves. After stepping onboard and through the womb-like hatch, she sat down and was greeted by a waitress who took her order for peace with a side of tranquility.

Below lay the world, her world, with all of its garbage, disputes and yokes of unbudgeable burdens. Forward, forward, forward they glided until even the idea of trouble faded into the landscape. Whoosh! Her mind melted away the lexicon of negative words she had spent a lifetime collecting, until there was nothing left but calm.

She smiled and for the first time her smiling wasn’t veiled by cynicism or the thought that happiness is fleeting. It was a real thing and she could grasp it freely, tightly, with the knowledge that it was finally and perfectly hers.

Traveling down the corridors of the hovercraft, she saw other passengers with outstretched arms. Were they embracing happiness too or had they come seeking other things? She didn’t know and didn’t ask, but observed their joy at whatever they were finding knowing that its value equaled her own precious awakening.

“I love you.”

She heard, felt, savored-said the words in response to some newly discovered country buried deep within herself.

“I love you too,” followed by another smile and a deeper sense of fulfillment than the first.

Life lurched forward and finally, she had reached her destination. Ignorance comingled with bliss bringing forth the knowledge that this was where she belonged. There was no one to escort her or greet her as she stepped down onto the landing and felt the outside air prickle her skin.

“Aloha” was written on the side of the hovercraft and she remembered that it meant “I love you,” as well as “hello” and “goodbye.”

She was back home and the moon had found its place in the sky. The day was dead with no one to mark the event with tears or grief. Even so, the happiness she had grasped remained fixed in her hand. She would not file it away for safekeeping. Instead, she would wear it like a jewel about her throat.

This is the secondary road of your journey; a bot’s voice said evaporating silence. It didn’t matter that her journey had taken her back to where she’d begun, and she would have to find some way of maintaining what she’d found. This day had not ended in failure as she had assumed it would. Now, walking down this secondary road, which resembled the same road she’d walked everyday of her life, she realized that it was OK to make return trips to various aspects of herself. Some lessons must be repeatedly learned, just as some roads must be repeatedly walked. She wasn’t infallible after all.

Pegasus Awakes

Moonlight lit the darkness forcing purple shadows to rise, glowing the sky like angels in flight. Coyote watched the Pegasus constellation gallop across the night sky. It could not follow its ancient hoof beats nor dream of what life was like in the stars. A lonely howl rose and was momentarily caught in water vapor before descending into silence in the bitter air. Then another howl followed until coyote songovertook every other sound except the drum of heartbeats pounding.

That is how the day began, with the world feeling a world away from itself. As if everything had gone back to a distant time and place, without a reckoning of anything but the midnight sky and the howling of a lonely coyote.

In the morning, the old scarecrow stood in a field of wheat, on the very spot where long dead Indians had once stood, fought and died. Jenny stood in the kitchen doorway, where several generations of other women had stood listening to the call of mourning doves before beginning another day caught between old dreams and the constant unfulfilled expectations of life as a wife and mother.

Looking down the drive she studied the rusting remains of the Cadillac that had sealed her destiny and tied her to the man who had taken her for a ride and brought her back home carrying the first of their children. She hadn’t loved him then and wasn’t sure if she ever had or could. The void between them had multiplied with each child, each unhappy night and each bill due that couldn’t be paid.

“This is the price you pay for being easy,” her self-hatred bellowed to her even after all these years when forgiveness for youthful foolishness should have already occurred. But it hadn’t come and Jenny wondered if it ever would.

Her husband sloped up the steps and came into the kitchen to get a drink of water.

“It’s a scorcher out there again today. No clue how much I’ll be able to do,” he said between hearty gulps.

“I thought I’d make us a cold supper tonight, what do you think?” she asked.

“Whatever you like, you know I always leave those things up to you…”

“But I was just ask…OK.”

The stillness of the air exaggerated the stillness between them.

“Lots of nonsense on the news this morning,” he said, “Newsman called it ‘social unrest.’ Sometimes it seems like the whole world is unraveling.”

“Really, what’s going on? You didn’t wake me to make your breakfast…”

“I think you had a bad night, so I let you sleep,” he said, walking over to her.

“Dang coyote was howling so loud I’m surprised anyone got any rest,” she said.

“That wasn’t it,” he interrupted. “You can’t hide much from me, yet you always try…”

“So do you want an early supper tonight?” she replied as she turned away. “I’m just asking because I wanted to polish the brass and get some other things done this afternoon.”

He didn’t respond but walked out of the kitchen and back out into the summer sun.

In the sky, a lone hawk slowly circled and glided indifferent to the struggles of those below. Jenny watched it, feeling fully awake for the first time that day. She didn’t hear her husband reenter the kitchen and jumped when he addressed her.

“Sorry,” he said noticing her shock. “Got a call from up the road, Hank wants me to help him lift some bags of cement and work on the radiator of his old Lincoln. It doesn’t seem like I’m going to get much done here today, so I thought I’d go over there and help him out for a while.”

Jenny pursed her lips and nodded.

There was nothing to say as they stood together beneath the electric hum of the old ceiling fan. It was a given that this was how it would be between them until one of them died or finally gave up and left. Youthful eagerness to explore every aspect of themselves had been lost and replaced by a need to overlook what remained.

Jenny spent the rest of the afternoon polishing the stained brass and making potato salad.

That night in bed, beneath an orchestration of stars, they lay silently side-by-side as the world around them darkened into oblivion. They did not know that great things were being born or dying in the universe or that just around the corner both blessings and troubles were coming in a series of leaps and bounces. There was nothing but the stillness of sleep upon troubled pillows and coyotesong begging Pegasus to linger.

Towards a Poisoned Canal

A pigeon sits on a lonely stoop watching a traffic of geese fly overhead. This street smart bird that races after busboys who discard perverse amounts of barely touched food in garbage cans and curbs, knows that speed means a meal and waiting is death, as lingering gulls circle overhead. It coos to its lover who sweetly coos back, before she springs and wings towards poisoned canal. Dead fish float in the autumn breeze between hovering ducks and sewage pulp. This was how the day began; a seamless comingling of beautiful ugliness with sparks of sunlight teasing through pollution flame clouds. Hillary thought she’d heard a cricket the night before — between the humming of the air conditioner and the snoring of her husband, but cancelled the thought; dismissing it as fantasy.

Sighing herself up and out of the unpleasant warmth of her bed, she admonished herself for sleeping so late. 

“Well, looky here, Sleeping Beauty has finally awoken,” said her husband Glen.

“I was waiting for Prince Charming, but he didn’t show up. Guess that means I have to settle for you,” she replied, narrowing the space between them until they were close enough to kiss. The moment passed without affection and they continued their morning routines talking endlessly about nothing in particular.

Later, after they’d given each other a perfunctory kiss and walked in separate directions down the same street, Hillary saw a dead pigeon and her mate cooing beside her. The scene stopped her cold, even as other city workers plowed past without cognizance that there was more to life than rushing to the next meeting or catching the next train. Some admonished her for standing there, but she was beyond them; lost in the sight and sound of a truly broken heart.

She heard so many things in that lonely coo, such as “Why,” “Please don’t leave me,” “I want to die” and “I love you.” She couldn’t move; didn’t want to move, it was all too much to absorb until a garbage truck drove by and crushed the dead bird flat. 

The horror of the moment forced her to remember herself and the time, even as she watched the other bird fly away.

I suppose I should congratulate myself for never allowing myself to love someone that much, she thought after finally arriving at work where she spent her day finagling deals that would be forgotten before five.

On the way home, she contemplated taking another route to avoid seeing what was there, but remembering that she and Glen had a function to attend that evening, she took her regular route instead. She tried to avoid it, not wanting to see what she assumed was there, but curiosity forced her to look. By now the bird had been run over so many times that all that remained were some crushed bones, feathers and a single talon reaching out to something that wasn’t there. But Hillary’s focus was elsewhere. She looked around for the other bird; even tried to pick it out of group of birds nearby, but it was gone.

“I knew it! I knew you’d abandon her!” said Hillary forgetting herself as tears welled up in her eyes. “It’s all pointless. This whole existence is pointless. We’re born, we live and we die, and for what? We’ll be extinct with no one left to remember us, and for what?”

By the time she got home, her tears had dried enough to conceal her emotions from Glen, who rushed her in and out of her dressing room to put on just the right dress, so that they could make an appearance at a party neither one of them wanted to attend. Even though time had passed, and she’d washed her face before applying another mask of make-up, Hillary could still feel the salt trails of her tears on her face.

“I want to go home,” she whispered in Glen’s ear.”

“Not yet, babe. You know how the boss likes me to give the hands-on approach to new clients.”

Hours later after they’d returned home feeling beaten down and triumphant, Hillary pushed Glen’s hand away after he tried to syphon some lingering residue of the image she’d created for that evening’s festivities, and fondle her.

“Still waiting for Prince Charming?” he grumbled turning over and away.

She sat in silence through the night, listening for crickets.

*****

On her way home from work the next day, Hillary passed by the spot where the bird had been. Now there was nothing left at all. It was as if everything she had seen and been moved by, hadn’t occurred. Then she heard it, the same sad coo she’d heard before. She circled around trying to see where it perched until as if wanting to make itself known, the bird flew down to the very spot where his mate had been.

*****

“I love you,” Hillary said to Glen during dinner that evening.

“What brought this on?” he asked.

“I just wanted you to know, that’s all,” said Hillary until a long silent lapse imbued the moment with something dark. “Do you love me?”

Glen didn’t reply, he wasn’t the sort to reply to a question like that; which was the excuse she had fed herself on from their first “hello” until now. She changed the subject to something she didn’t care about and smiled as if nothing mattered, while remembering the simplicity of a perfect love lost on a cold city street.