redemptionA Story by SJ?? Not sure where to put this.... Short story, monologue....how to describe it“It was 10:00. Swear to
God- your brother was running around the aisles, you just stared at me-
peculiar like.” “I think not.” “You were just so quiet,
those brown eyes looking and smiling. You stared into my gut, you know, pulled
out my chosen sins and held them up for me to peruse. So sweet like.” “Ha! How old was I?” “I’dno; 3? 5? You were
wearing these sassy brown overalls. And a beret! A miniature green beret,
settled down to your eyebrows.” “Really- like my ‘fathers
beret’ or something?!” “No Sass-It was felt, like…
out of a kids rifle set-” “Oh- I remember that hat-
it was my fave! My mom said I’d wear it to bed.” “Now do you remember….in
the hardware store?” “What were you doing
there?” “Shooting. Hunting.” “Catch anything?” “-Course” “What?” “What did you do with the
animals?” “What a waste- you should
of donated that meat- something.” “Well, sweetheart, you
just didn’t do that back then.” “Hmm” “Now do you remember?” “Writing” “Don’t you think that’s
too easy? I don’t think your profession can be you purpose.” “Yours was "sass” “I was helping people” “It appears you helped one
of them straight into the fiery depths of hell-“ “Not my fault- the pilot
had a heart attack.” “Tell me-“ “He just yelped; like he’d
been stuck by a pin. Then he slumped over into the collective- power dropped
and we started weaving. Thank god he flies like he’s in a goddam jet liner-
outer perimeter of space for chrissake. But we were high. I tried to take over-tried
to sit on top of him- take over- didn’t work; well it worked for a while- but
the landing is what got us- petal use and all- we came in too hot and dug the
left skid in the ground. Almost had it though and then tipped right over- BAM-
dead. You know what they say: flying -optional: landing-mandatory….funny. “ Did it hurt?” “Well, you’ve crashed a
few times- did it hurt?” “Hell- like the worst
pain- came from my heart though- so scared I crapped my pants- you didn’t hear
about that- my body just numbed itself- my heart- its what hurt.” “ I’m glad I didn’t live -
pure vanity- would you want to walk around looking like a basted turkey?” “Wish I’d of died” “Well,.. you did! “In the crash” “ crashes” “Yes, well... so you say”
****
“You don’t remember, huh?” “No, sir- sorry.” “Like what?” “And? Am I hidden
somewhere in your dialogue? I’ve read you. Can’t seem to recall any beret-wearing
rug rats anywhere.” “Couldn’t actually.“ “Ha! Really. Too little- “No- too great-“ “Which is?” “Sweetheart; sweetie,
don’t cry- sorry, seem to make all the women in my life cry.” **** “So, why are you still
here?” “What do we do?” “Yes- please. Do you know
everyone here?” “---Do you hear that?
Those voices?” “No” “They’ll be ok right?” **** “You’re a very handsome
man.” “You look like your
reputation.” “Like?” “What happened?” “Ruined it -huh-“ “Your Jewish?” “Tell me” “I met a gal- still is my
friend today- haven’t seen her for thirteen years. We used to sit up and talk
about; like, the future. Anyway-
Stella that was her name- and there was another Stella so they were called Stella #1 and Stella #2!, we’d quander and peruse and wonder ad nauseum over what
we wanted in life- that typical conflict of having a white picket fence life-
simple and easy- or traveling: like you did, just seeing things, being in the
great beyond. Well, I ordered up a white picket fence and she took the slice of
adventure pie. Sort of fitting though, wouldn’t you say, that we each took a
path and reported back afterward. I think it was for the best, I wouldn’t have
been a very good Hemingway anyway.” “I lived that
contradiction. It was hell. I’d settle in, be content and then the bedbugs,
they’d come a-callin’ and I’d have to get up-go.” “Like restless leg
syndrome-“ “Sure-” “So -you want to hear a
great love story?!” “I’d rather not.” “No it’s great! So we had
a bunch of Israeli’s from the area that all did these digs basically for a
living. Anyway, there was this one guy-very stoic, reserved. Didn’t say much.
Stella commented one day that he was so surly with her- how can a guy who
doesn’t talk be surly?- I joked with her that he must like her- like in junior
high. So that was the joke. Anyway, we stayed at the dig site one weekend-
because they’d kick us out of the hostel on the weekends- the trailer was
parked right there where we’d wash pot shards, but anyway, she made a comment
of needing to get washing done, so he offered to take her laundry back to
Jerusalem with him. He did her laundry! Complete with bluing the whites-
actually I think he blued everything, and used too much, because her shirts had
a nice powder blue hue to them!! Ha! So funny! Short story made way too long-
he was in love with her! They dated for years after! ...I often wonder about
him- the rest of them.” “They still together?” “How many of them fell in
love with you?” “Oh, I could tell you a
thing or two about narcissism…and wanting…” Did you really love that
nurse? So much?” “She didn’t ‘make you want
to be a better man’?!” “I gave him that line- its mine you know- basically hit him
over the head with it- He was sitting on the john- early in the morning reading
his script- and I like the guy- a lot- reminds me of a better me- and he was stewing and stumbling and
so-WHAM- I whispered it in his ear. Voila- now he’s a star.” “ So you think I have all
these ethics and morals huh- why?” “No- totally not true. Way
off! Ya know..I am a opto-phobe. I
hate optimism- it’s useless. I think that- I’m a realist. I expect the worst in
people- hope for the best.” “Sass- you yell so loud
about what you think you are- you’re a precious, precious girl- I still
remember you smiling at me- that dimple- you cocked your head to the side and
smiled at me. I thought you were going to take my hand. I tried to ignore you,
kept talking to the cashier. But I couldn’t help myself. I knelt down to you
and smiled and asked you your name, you told me- just like that- and then told
me you had to wait while your mom caught your brother. He was being
‘disagreeable’ you said.” “My poor mom-“ “I didn’t like her- “ “ I’m sure- but… you told
me you just got out of the hospital- that you almost died"“ “I wanted a girl like you.” “You had girls didn’t
you?” “Well, you have to put in
to get out.” “Amen brother.” “Two?” Three.” “Atta girl.” Are you an alcoholic?” “I suppose.” “Still?” “So- we just wait and
sip.” “Yep” “Every afternoon?” “Yup” “What changes?” “The people. Some of us
stick around, some go in.” “What do you have to do?” “Ha! Great-” “You- do you ever think
you’ll get in?” “Honestly- sweetheart, I
hope so. I didn’t used to, you know, finger to the big man keeping me down, not
going to take His cup o’ tea. But…” “He is right you know.” “Yea?” “Yea-“ “How do you know?” “It’s a hard pill to
swallow-“ “Ah- but It’ll make you
feel better. It’s not s’posed to be easy. Think of all the things that you’ve
done that are hard: war, writing; marriage. But you did them. So- do this.” “Do this- huh.” “Yep. Look at this; this
is di-rectly from the hand of The Man.”
She fingered the corner of the pamphlet handed to them:
specific, syntactic; gilded: REDEMPTION: KNOW IT TEN EASY STEPS TAKE THE FIRST ONE…
“Its laziness, you know-
you people spit and moon about religion being the apex of all evil- which it
can be- then wander around aimlessly searching
all the time. You know what your searching for?-“ “The truth sass-“ “Exactly- but the truth-
the real truth- no one wants to hear. It requires too much work; too much
responsibility: it requires… it requires me to shut up and listen, and feel no
entitlement for the good things that come my way. Look at all of us here- we
should have no qualms about crossing through those gates. But look at people- they
aren’t sure!” “Listen up "sass- the
interview hasn’t started yet- and I think the Right Hand of God had already
been filled..” “You’re the one who is still here….” “…I knew, from the moment
I met you- you would be like a stiff drink of whiskey.” “Well, drink up then.” **** The breeze was melodic and
soothing. It wafted and caressed the bare legs of the women and rippled the
pant legs of the men. It smelled of sweetgrass and chanted its own prayer. The
wrought iron tables matched the chairs matted coloring and tippy all around.
Folded napkins edged into the damned voids, and teacups and mugs wobbled around
and screamed their own bloody survival cry. The trees saluted the sun on one
side; their shade making love to the sidewalk on the other. The concrete wasn’t. The
space undefined; the ambiance shifting; gravitating to the whims of the moment. And the people sat. Sat
and cried. Stood and mulled. Paced and acquiesced: drinking and eating and
watching and waiting. There were moles
everywhere. Watching for that moment
and then the name would be chipper-ly siphoned into the master database and
re-categorized. These were the sycophants: their standby ticket secured with
irrefutable adherence to The Rules. The two sat stubbornly;
squared-off and tee’d off; one knowing better, the other knowing no other way.
Wary and oblivious to the creaking of the giant metal gate. The old man came out: came
and pointed with his beckoning finger: long, jointed, tan, and worn with
deliberation. “So,.. when we met. I
seemed to have made an impression on you.” “Yea- you did.” “It was good?” “That’s why you came
over?” “Damned happy… I knew who
you were when you walked over here, knew you.” “You know, sweetheart; I
didn’t recognize you at all- I just knew: felt, it was you. Like…” “…It was meant to be?” “Yea- like The Great
Catharsis was going to finally come to a startling and conclusive end.” “Why do ya suppose? All
this?” “ I think… because God
works like a damned fool.” “Foolish huh.” “Well, either damned or
foolish, either way He gets us here. “I don’t think He’s
foolish.” “No. Sass. Neither do I.” © 2013 SJAuthor's Note
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Added on April 2, 2013 Last Updated on April 2, 2013 AuthorSJAboutMother/Wife Flight Paramedic/Teacher Pessimist/Realist Do-good-er/Church-goer skier/runner/swimmer/biker/yogi/wannabe-er Observer/Perceiver more..Writing
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