Chapter Seventeen: For Uncle Davis's Sake and Peace of Mind

A Chapter by Joanna Maharis

Dominica spends the morning chatting with Uncle Davis.

After struggling for so long, in terms of coming up with a new work of fiction, it suddenly occured to me that it was time to go back to the basics, where writing was concerned. I realized how important it was for me to be an observer in life, in addition to being a participant. It also occurred to me the previous day that there is drama in everything. It was just a matter of digging deeper into myself than I had done in a long time.

The previous afternoon, when I was using the facilities at the diner, I looked at myself in the mirror. I mean really looked at myself. In particular, I studied my facial features carefully. For the first time ever in my life, I saw no flaws. All I saw before me was beauty. For many, many, painful years, I never saw myself until then. This whole experience gave me a feeling of exhileration. It was, a beautiful miracle and a special gift from God, a true blessing. It was at that moment I realized how wrong Warren, and everyone else, who ever called me ugly and dumb, really were. I've never in my entire life had felt more joy than I did at that very moment in time. After taking off my glasses and gently rubbing my hand against the softness of the flesh on my face, I, put my glasses back on, smiled at myself in the mirror with a sense of inner peace and contentment, and made my exit.

I didn't sleep comfortably the previous night, in that I was restless and was tossing and turning a lot. This was because, when I ordered a diet soft drink at the diner that afternoon, I ordered diet pop, instead of ordering caffeine free diet pop. I mentioned this to Uncle Davis when I had a brief discussion with him the following morning. He said, "Next time you just have water, to be on the safe side." He also informed me that he "didn't sleep too comfortably myself, because I had a nightmare. In this dream, I was fighting with Tom Jenkins, one of my closest friends in reality. Someone had stold one of my belongings. I chased the thief into the woods and I couldn't find my way out." Uncle Davis then went back to taking a little nap in his lounge chair. Prior to telling me all this, he mentioned to me that when Frederick Wilcox informed him about the property that was for sale behind our church, he said to Uncle Davis, "The man that bought the house and lot the first time the property was sold, discovered that he only needed enough parking for eight cars. He owns and lives in the house, but he's willing to sell the additional lot to the church. Now is a good time to buy it, Davis. I'm going to discuss this matter further with the other board members of our church, and then schedule a meeting between the board members and the rest of the congregation."

"That sounds great, Frederick. In fact, I'm willing to make a donation myself towards the puchase of the property. Have a good night, Frederick. And thanks for calling me, and for the information." Uncle Davis replied enthusiastically.

Grandma Feldman began crying in pain later in the morning. Aunt Doris applied some ointment to her legs in the areas where the pain stemmed from, in addition to giving her some pain reliver medication, such as aspirin. Uncle Davis came up from the basement and went into the bedroom where Grandma Feldman and Aunt Doris were sleeping, because he heard my grandmother's cries. "Where does it hurt, Aunt Clara? It there pain in your legs again?"

"Yes, my legs hurt terrible. I can't stretch them out, becasue they hurt whenever I move them."
Grandma Feldman wailed.

After applying the electric massager to Grandma Feldman's legs for a while, Uncle Davis asked her, "Do you feel better?"

"Yeah." Grandma Feldman replied with a calmer, more relaxed, tone in her voice.

Uncle Davis walked back to his lounge chair in the living room, sat down and began reading one of his hunting magazines, at the same time he chatted with me. "You know I reccommended, time and time again, for your grandmother to walk a little bit in my yard, even if it is to walk a bit in my driveway or do some simple stretching exercises, so she could strengthen her legs. But she always said her legs hurt her and that she was too tired to do any walking other the walking from the bedroom to the bathroom, or from the bedroom to the living room, or to walk from the bedroom to the kitchen and walk outside to your Aunt Doris's car when all of you go out to run some errands."

"As for myself, Uncle Davis, I was always doing stretching exercises, along with yoga, calisthenics, and strengthening exercises, from the time I was in college, all the way through my mid to late twenties. I would exercise my muscles before I left in the morning for school, and again at night, before I'd go to bed, for example. Then, about five or six years after I graduated from college, I read an article in a magazine that, in general, people should exercise in the morning before they, leave for work or school, or, go wherever they will be traveling. And then do some stretching exercises, especially. at night before going to bed, so a person doesn't injure him or herself when getting out of bed the next morning. Experts stated that when person sleeps at night, the muscles tighten up and can get stiff and sore, throughout the night, if they are not exercised properly before a person retires to bed." I informed Uncle Davis while typing up some more material for my follow up novel to my book The Long Stretch.

Uncle Davis then examined his notebooks containing blueprints, for homes, of which he designed. One of his many hobbies. He then reclined in his lounge chair and went to sleep.

As I lay in my bed, my mind took me back to my past. I realized how far I had come, from being that shy, timid girl, transforming into a very angry, very emotionally distraught, and psychologically overwhelmed young woman, to my metamorphosis into the vibrant, strong, healthy, middle aged woman I had become. My mind drifted into the waters of violent visions; thus, delved into the aftermath that soon followed, once I got away from the violence, and dove even deeper into the middle of the ocean, while I gazed at the spec of Island I left behind, in that the Island represented my past selves. Each self represented a stage of growth in my life, through learning from life and from my own experiences, and thus, living with a form of stability within my soul, spirit, and mind.

I sat on the sofa eating a ham and cheese sandwich, in addition to consuming a chilled glass of milk, when Uncle Davis and I were watching The Family Court television program where this mother was suing her daughter for money that was loaned to her for purchasing a car. The daughter had no proof that she paid for the car; therefore, the judge had no choice, but to rule in the mother's favor in regard to a legal standpoint. He did, however, feel for the girl on a personal level, because her mother was in an abusive relationship and indenial to the police every time the daughter tried to put the mother's boyfriend, or husband, or whoever he was, in jail. The mother claimed that the daughter was laying about the entire thing with regard to the violence and abuse. But the judge said to the mother, "I know your daughter is telling the truth with regard to the domestic abuse, becasue I've seen women in your situation who come to court and lie for their husbands, or boyfriends, because they didn't want the husband or boyfriend to go to jail. And then the husband or boyfriend throws the given woman out of a window. I know, because I've seen it done."

I gave a little bit of commentary with regard to the issues discussed on the show, because I felt it was imprtant for me to mention it to Uncle Davis. "I know the judge is right and is telling the truth with regard to the violence, in that I've had similar experiences with my father Warren Moore. He lifted me up in the air and threw me from one end of the room to the other; thus, causing my body to hit the wall and then drop hard to the floor. He did this on several occasions in my life, especially when I was six or seven years old."

Uncle Davis motioned to me with his hands to be quiet. He got upset when I continued to speak. "Can you please be quiet so I can hear the program. We've talked about your life many times before."

"No. I won't be quiet, because when I wanted you to be quiet earlier this week when there was a program on PBS that I wanted to watch, you had a fit, in that you believed that what you had to say was more important than the program I was watching. If you want me to be quiet when there is a particular program on television that you are watching and don't want me or anyone else to interrupt, then I expect the same common courtesy to be extended to me when I'm watching a given program. I don't think you're being fair." I verbally retaliated.

Uncle Davis, then picked up the remote and closed the television. Then, in a soft tone of voice, he said with a smile, "Okay, let's talk."

"I'm just saying that I know where the daughter of the woman is coming from, because I''ve had similar experiences happen within my own family. Warren didn't even want us to have any icon of the saints of our church, or anything pertaining to Jesus Christ in our house. He had no respect for religion or for education. According to Warren, a man who is loving to his wife and children, a respectable citizen of the community, and is church going, is considered to be weak. When I was very young, my mother took my brothers and me to church up until the time I was in the seventh grade. After that, we stopped going to church, because Warren forbade it. His word was law. He considered himself to be above the laws of the Ten Commandments and above God." I said teary eyed.

"Your father, in his mind, believes that he himself is a good person who never does anything wrong. I know that he believes it is always the other person's fault, whenever something goes wrong. This is becasue he is not in touch with reality. But remember one thing, honey. I love you and respect you unconditionally. I always have and always will. Don't ever forget that." Uncle Davis said while adjusting his glasses. When our conversation was finished, he turned the television back on to watch another case on the court television show.

Later that day, Uncle Davis had to go out for a drive, because he went to check on his property that he rents to the Sanders couple. Their names are Philip and Martha. They are good people. They're nothing like the previous tenant who lived at the house and let squatters move in and cause trouble for Uncle Davis by vandalizing the inside and outside of the house, in addition to doing some damage to the barn. Philip and Martha and some other of their friends and family members have done a beautiful job, thus far, in making the repairs in the house and on the rest of the property. Philip called to talk to Uncle Davis, when Aunt Doris answered the telephone and told him that Uncle Davis was not at home.

A little earlier that day, when I was in the living room eating a strawberry jam and banana sandwich, I could hear Grandma Feldman crying from hers and Aunt Doris's bedroom. Aunt Doris was trying to help Grandma with putting on her special socks she had to wear for circulation. When Grandma Feldman got up from her bed, she had to sit back down. "I don't want to go anywhere. I can't walk into th e kitchtn. My legs hurt me. Just let me stay here. You can go to the store with Dominica."

"No, mom. You have to come with. You can't stay here by yourself. What if you fall? Who would help you up from the floor? There is no way I'm going to let you stay home by yourself. Not only that, but days ago, when we were snowed in, you cried and complained, because you wanted to go out. We couldn't go out anywhere, because it was very cold out for one thing. And the roads were covered with a lot of snow, and I couldn't even get the car out of the driveway, due to the snow. My car would have slid all around. I want you to come with us for some fresh air. It will do you good to be out." Aunt Doris said in a firm tone.

I got up from the sofa and walked through the hallway, scolding my grandmother. "What are crying for, grandma? What are you crying for? Dang. There's nothing to cry about. Sometimes you over due it with your crying. You need to force yourself to walk, regardless of the pain in your legs. The more you walk, the better your legs will feel. The better you will feel."

Aunt Doris helped Grandma Feldman walk into the kitchen where she then sat down on a chair so she could have help with putting on her boots.

Aunt Doris then went outside to warm up the car. She told my grandmother and me to wait inside the house until she returned.

Peering through the window of Uncle Davis's living room, I could see the blue lightening streeks scrapping through the bold sky whose face was hiding behind a white, sheer, curtain. Cars went by every so often. I loved the quiet, peaceful, surroundings out in there in the part country, part suburban setting. The snow covered the frosted houses. They looked good enough to eat. I can remember when I can remember catching snowflakes with my tongue and letting the snow melt in the warmth of my mouth, when I was a little kid. Although the snow wasn't coming down at that moment, there was plenty of it all around, just the same old white fluff.

"I don't know why you don't leave me here by myself." Grandma Feldman said in a sad tone from the kitchen.

"Because I don't want to leave you, here, alone. You can't stay here at home and get depressed all by yourself. It's not good for you." Aunt Doris informed her.

We stopped at Melvin's Drugstore, because we needed some things. Grandma Feldman needed a couple of things from the office supplies, and some candy. I also bought a caffeine free cola, of which I drank all the way home.

I admired the shivering trees whose branches danced in their nakedness. Driving further along, I could see pine trees whose limbs were frosted with snow, very much like the pine trees in Uncle Davis's yard. Their needles reminded me of green velvet with the scratchiness of sandpaper.

"Should I call Avery, or should I not?" Uncle Davis asked me while trying to make up his mind about picking up the receiver of the telephone.

"Yeah. Hell. He never calls, and I don't even remember the last time any of us talked to him. His friends come and go to his house as they please. They call him whenever they feel like it. And as long as Avery doesn't have a problem with them calling him or visiting him, I see no reason why he should get mad about any of us calling him." I responded.

Uncle Davis dialed Avery's number, only to get his voicemail, so he left him a message. "Ten to eight. All is well. Call us once in a while. We love you. Goodbye."

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