I thought my part was over . . . an end to my Memorial Day
Posted: Tue Jun 01, 2010 4:31 pm
I can’t believe it’s been so long since the start of the subject of this post; I thought it had ended and my part in it finished.
It’s not; not yet, anyway.
I sat on one of the many airport benches, mulling over the events of the weekend before Memorial Day and then the day itself. So much had changed; so much had remained the same.
Hannah was getting ready to leave for college; wow. Had so much time already passed that Hannah was now actually turning down interested boys? I’ll let her relate the adventure with the unicycle and the mechanic’s son.
They would have waited with me for my flight, Ron and Hannah; but they were so busy, and the security so tight, I thought it best to keep the . . . goodbyes closer to home. And so I waited in the airport alone, my flight’s arrival an hour away.
“Change?” the hoarse, ragged voice broke into my musings, sounding melancholy. Not entirely free of my thoughts, I nodded.
“Yes. A great deal has. But then, much is still the same. Like the seasons. Ever changing, yet still the same.”
He sat down on the plastic chair beside me without asking my permission; not that he needed it. “Yeah,” he rasped in slow agreement. “That’s what I like about summer, too.” I shook my head slightly.
“I’m sorry; how much did you need?” I lifted my purse and set it on my lap.
“Five dollars,” he sounded hopeful.
I paused as I counted out the bills, folded diagonally in the plastic packet so I wouldn’t mix them with other currency. “Are you hungry?” I turned my head in his direction.
“Well . . . yeah.” Now he was hesitant. I stood and held out my hand.
“Come on; I won’t give you the money, but if you lead me to a restaurant, I’ll buy you something to eat.”
His silence might have been because he was looking my hand over, then me, and mulling my offer over. It might have been for another reason entirely; I don’t know. Finally, he stood and took my hand. “Okay. This way.” He led me to a Taco Bell I think, just outside the gate where my flight would come in.
“No, we’re still not giving you a free melt, Charlie,” the clerk said crossly the moment we stepped in, her voice sounding exasperated. She gave an embarrassed “oh” when I informed her he was with me today, and took our orders.
We sat in a corner booth. The server brought us a tray and quickly left, as though we had a contagious disease. The other patrons gave us a wide berth as well, and most orders became “to go” for customers walking in. Mothers hushed their children when such questions as “Why does he smell like that?”, “Why does he dress like that, Mommy?”, or “Why did that lady hitted the salt over?” left their lips.
I set the saltshaker upright and did my best to gather the pool of salt; I worried how Charlie would take the attention, but didn’t Open myself to read him. However, he seemed perfectly content to sit here and eat. I cautiously began conversing with him, and he replied between mouthfuls of melted cheese wrap. When the topic slowly steered toward his home in the Park near where Ron and Hannah lived, he suddenly became stimulated and he spoke animatedly. From there, he started making a few guesses of his own.
“Hey, you’re that blind lady that helped Pris Grady find her son that went missin’ all them years ago!” His enthusiasm turned to outright passion and my face grew warm because of it, the memories coming thick.
I was stunned. How did he know that? That incident had happened nearly three years ago . . . “I was only trying to help Mrs. Grady,” I explained quietly, blushing at the thought and at her response when last I encountered her. Lifting my elbow to the table and covering my neck with my wrist and hand, I turned my chin toward my wrist and blushed even further when I imagined the eyes of the other patrons turn to me and watch curiously.
“Yeah, I figgered that’s whatcha done try,” he replied, oblivious to my blossoming cheeks. “But it shore didn’ work out that way, did it?”
“Listen, I need to catch a flight; could we take this outside?” I asked in hushed tones, dropping my other hand on the table and touching his coarse sleeve, biting my lip sheepishly because of it; the restaurant had gone utterly silent, every eye likely turned to us.
“Huh? Flight?” Charlie was wholly confused as he looked about. “Why is ever’body lookin’ at us?” He must have seen the pleading look on my face, because he stood up and grabbed my wrist. “Okey-day . . .” I looped my free arm through my purse strap and snatched my cane before Charlie dragged me out. “So where is your flight?”
I told him the gate, and he started dragging me there. “Could you not hold me so tight, please?” I asked.
His fingers released me completely with a stiff movement. I took a moment to adjust myself, straightening my hair and shouldering my purse properly. He stood there and probably eyed me still. Charlie was old enough his finger joints had swollen with rheumatism and maybe even suffered a bit from dementia. But he waited for me to regain my composure, and he waited by the gate. There were a few minutes left, and security didn’t seem to mind the rough, course figure waiting beside me. I decided to use the extra time to ask a few questions.
“Charlie, what happened to Mrs. Grady? Did she ever find her son?”
“Shore did,” he declared happily. “And right angry Kip was, too. Prissy took him to a hospital, see? He had this really bad cough. And she took ‘im to a hospital and tried to get ‘im treated. But them things never work, docs an’ their perscripshun’s. Kip died a few days affer they done shot ‘im up full of medcashun.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Huh? ‘Cause I done lived with him, o’ course, before Prissy came and took ‘im away.”
“Where?” I queried breathlessly.
“To the hospital like I done told ya.”
“No,” I waved my hand in the air. “Where did you live?”
I managed to close my mouth before blurting out the curiosity I felt. I hadn’t come across Mrs. Grady ever since she slapped me in the library, though whether she had seen me was a different matter entirely. A loud voice calling out the time to board my flight echoed over the P.A. system.
“Where did you two live?” I repeated with hesitant breathlessness. I needed to know.
He gave me the directions in a slow, easy manner, not at all hurried. It proved to be on the outskirts of the Blight, just outside Ron’s ordinary hunting range. I thanked him, planned on asking Ron later when I was back home if he could check into it for me, and quickly rushed to the back of the line that had already formed.
I made my flight home just fine, my thoughts spinning.
This was something I wanted to look into.
It’s not; not yet, anyway.
I sat on one of the many airport benches, mulling over the events of the weekend before Memorial Day and then the day itself. So much had changed; so much had remained the same.
Hannah was getting ready to leave for college; wow. Had so much time already passed that Hannah was now actually turning down interested boys? I’ll let her relate the adventure with the unicycle and the mechanic’s son.
They would have waited with me for my flight, Ron and Hannah; but they were so busy, and the security so tight, I thought it best to keep the . . . goodbyes closer to home. And so I waited in the airport alone, my flight’s arrival an hour away.
“Change?” the hoarse, ragged voice broke into my musings, sounding melancholy. Not entirely free of my thoughts, I nodded.
“Yes. A great deal has. But then, much is still the same. Like the seasons. Ever changing, yet still the same.”
He sat down on the plastic chair beside me without asking my permission; not that he needed it. “Yeah,” he rasped in slow agreement. “That’s what I like about summer, too.” I shook my head slightly.
“I’m sorry; how much did you need?” I lifted my purse and set it on my lap.
“Five dollars,” he sounded hopeful.
I paused as I counted out the bills, folded diagonally in the plastic packet so I wouldn’t mix them with other currency. “Are you hungry?” I turned my head in his direction.
“Well . . . yeah.” Now he was hesitant. I stood and held out my hand.
“Come on; I won’t give you the money, but if you lead me to a restaurant, I’ll buy you something to eat.”
His silence might have been because he was looking my hand over, then me, and mulling my offer over. It might have been for another reason entirely; I don’t know. Finally, he stood and took my hand. “Okay. This way.” He led me to a Taco Bell I think, just outside the gate where my flight would come in.
“No, we’re still not giving you a free melt, Charlie,” the clerk said crossly the moment we stepped in, her voice sounding exasperated. She gave an embarrassed “oh” when I informed her he was with me today, and took our orders.
We sat in a corner booth. The server brought us a tray and quickly left, as though we had a contagious disease. The other patrons gave us a wide berth as well, and most orders became “to go” for customers walking in. Mothers hushed their children when such questions as “Why does he smell like that?”, “Why does he dress like that, Mommy?”, or “Why did that lady hitted the salt over?” left their lips.
I set the saltshaker upright and did my best to gather the pool of salt; I worried how Charlie would take the attention, but didn’t Open myself to read him. However, he seemed perfectly content to sit here and eat. I cautiously began conversing with him, and he replied between mouthfuls of melted cheese wrap. When the topic slowly steered toward his home in the Park near where Ron and Hannah lived, he suddenly became stimulated and he spoke animatedly. From there, he started making a few guesses of his own.
“Hey, you’re that blind lady that helped Pris Grady find her son that went missin’ all them years ago!” His enthusiasm turned to outright passion and my face grew warm because of it, the memories coming thick.
I was stunned. How did he know that? That incident had happened nearly three years ago . . . “I was only trying to help Mrs. Grady,” I explained quietly, blushing at the thought and at her response when last I encountered her. Lifting my elbow to the table and covering my neck with my wrist and hand, I turned my chin toward my wrist and blushed even further when I imagined the eyes of the other patrons turn to me and watch curiously.
“Yeah, I figgered that’s whatcha done try,” he replied, oblivious to my blossoming cheeks. “But it shore didn’ work out that way, did it?”
“Listen, I need to catch a flight; could we take this outside?” I asked in hushed tones, dropping my other hand on the table and touching his coarse sleeve, biting my lip sheepishly because of it; the restaurant had gone utterly silent, every eye likely turned to us.
“Huh? Flight?” Charlie was wholly confused as he looked about. “Why is ever’body lookin’ at us?” He must have seen the pleading look on my face, because he stood up and grabbed my wrist. “Okey-day . . .” I looped my free arm through my purse strap and snatched my cane before Charlie dragged me out. “So where is your flight?”
I told him the gate, and he started dragging me there. “Could you not hold me so tight, please?” I asked.
His fingers released me completely with a stiff movement. I took a moment to adjust myself, straightening my hair and shouldering my purse properly. He stood there and probably eyed me still. Charlie was old enough his finger joints had swollen with rheumatism and maybe even suffered a bit from dementia. But he waited for me to regain my composure, and he waited by the gate. There were a few minutes left, and security didn’t seem to mind the rough, course figure waiting beside me. I decided to use the extra time to ask a few questions.
“Charlie, what happened to Mrs. Grady? Did she ever find her son?”
“Shore did,” he declared happily. “And right angry Kip was, too. Prissy took him to a hospital, see? He had this really bad cough. And she took ‘im to a hospital and tried to get ‘im treated. But them things never work, docs an’ their perscripshun’s. Kip died a few days affer they done shot ‘im up full of medcashun.”
“How do you know all this?” I asked.
“Huh? ‘Cause I done lived with him, o’ course, before Prissy came and took ‘im away.”
“Where?” I queried breathlessly.
“To the hospital like I done told ya.”
“No,” I waved my hand in the air. “Where did you live?”
I managed to close my mouth before blurting out the curiosity I felt. I hadn’t come across Mrs. Grady ever since she slapped me in the library, though whether she had seen me was a different matter entirely. A loud voice calling out the time to board my flight echoed over the P.A. system.
“Where did you two live?” I repeated with hesitant breathlessness. I needed to know.
He gave me the directions in a slow, easy manner, not at all hurried. It proved to be on the outskirts of the Blight, just outside Ron’s ordinary hunting range. I thanked him, planned on asking Ron later when I was back home if he could check into it for me, and quickly rushed to the back of the line that had already formed.
I made my flight home just fine, my thoughts spinning.
This was something I wanted to look into.
