Friday, November 21, 2008

A Miracle Of Healing



Here's the final installment. Thanks for the kind words and for reading! I'll be back tomorrow with pictures, Sunday with more stunning insights into the workings of the world. Ha!

I woke from my nap and realized people were already in the house. I could hear her friends laugh and star in on the snacks and hoped they hadn’t already eaten everything I wanted. I walked out of the bedroom and made my apologies all around. I had on my t-shirt from a drive-through in Peru, Indiana, that said, “It’s Mr. Weenie Time” which a picture of a big smiling weenie in a hat, which I knew to be a mistake when Lori looked at me. We had gone on a month-long road trip as a honeymoon, checking out America. Mr. Weenie had been a favorite at the time.

After I had a few drinks, I forgot that I was supposed to be injured and then I’d flash back and remember to limp. Nobody tells you how hard it is to be hurt. My arms ached because the crutches were the wrong size and the leg immoblizer made my leg itch something fierce. I took my place on the couch and tried to see which of her friends could be persuaded to wait on me. Nobody did, so I scooted out to the porch to get away from everyone. I watched Lori through the window and caught her eye. I feared she might come out here.

Lori had a Zima in her how and I wondered how I could have married someone who drank Zimas. She walked over to me.

“I’m glad you’re hurt. Guess who I saw at the Safeway today?”

“Who?”

“Tina Holmes. She told me you’re seeing some fat waitress from Woody’s.”

“We had a few dates. I thought we were over.”

“You’re an asshole, Mark. I’m sorry I ever took you back.”

“Not half as sorry as I am.”

“What the hell is Jimmy Sanders doing here?”

Jimmy got out of the passenger’s side of his mother’s car and walked up the sidewalk, jerking all the way. He had a Nazi helmet on and carried a sword with a swatiska on it. I guess he thought we were having a Halloween party. I started to laugh and couldn’t stop.

“What are you laughing at, you son of a bitch? I’m not letting him in.”

“Why not? Maybe one of your special needs instructors can help him learn and grow,” I said. “Just maybe he’d date one of your single, middle-aged, self-actualized friends.”

Jimmy walked up and waved at his mother who drove off. I guessed we were stuck with him for at a least a few hours.

“You take him somewhere,” Lori said. “I don’t care if you have two broken legs and a sprained dick. I want him gone.” She slammed the door, and I sat down on the porch, looking through the window and watching her expression change for her friends when she returned to the party.

“Hey Jimmy.”

“What happened to you?” Jimmy asked. Hs at down in his cumbersome uniform, a combination of his dead dad’s army stuff and some Nazi shit he’d picked up over the years.

“I hurt myself when I was moving.”

“Why aren’t you inside?” Jimmy asked.

I was glad to be sitting next to him so I couldn’t really see him licking the air. I took another swig of my beer. “It’s not really a party. Just some of Lori’s friends. Anyway, why don’t I take you home? You don’t want to be here.”

“I thought something was going on tonight. You want to go out and get a drink?”

Being seen with Jimmy in public was nothing short of sexual suicide and being seen with Jimmy dressed as a Nazi was nothing short of actual suicide. I was not near drunk enough to think this was a good idea.

I didn’t want to risk getting a DUI, but I didn’t see a way around the problem. I told Jimmy to get into the truck and he did. I prayed to God that I didn’t get stopped. There’s no simple story that could explain what was happening.

“Hey Jimmy, why am I such an asshole?”

“I could kill you with my Nazi dagger if I wanted.” He sat in the passenger seat, grunting and making gestures. A real good time.

“That’s wonderful, Jimmy. Thank you so much.”

I passed Melody’s again and decided to take a chance. “I’m stopping. You go ahead and walk to your mother’s. We’re two blocks over. I’ve got some business to do.”

“You going to get back with Melody?”

“If she’ll have me,” I said.

“She ain’t got much self-esteem. I remember a boy popped her bra strap and said, good boobs, too bad you’ve got such an ugly face. He usually picked on me, but I was happy that it was her turn until I saw her cry.”

“Jimmy, you’re a regular hero. Take my bottle and go on home.”

H set off down the street, taking swigs as he jerked. I knocked at Melody’s door. It took her a long time to answer.

“What do you want?”

“Don’t you want to know what happened to me?”

“Not particularly.” She had a pink robe on, one that I had taken off her to make love to her not four months ago. It make my throat ache to see it.

“I’m hurt. I got hurt,” I said. “You have to help me.”

“Why should I help you?” Melody folded her arms in front of her and looked down.

I took her chin in my hands and kissed her as tenderly as I knew how. The crutches fell away. I knew if I didn’t go home tonight, I would not be going home again. So I walked in the house behind Melody, leaving the crutches on the porch, evidence of a miracle of healing for people to marvel over in the morning.

Michelle's Spell
“Art does not reproduce the visible; rather, it makes visible” Paul Klee

Cocktail Hour
Drinking holiday cheer suggestion: Okay, we're almost to the horrors of the holidays so this is my best suggestion: Drink your very favorite drink tonight whether it be chocolate milk or single malt scotch. (Combined this is not a great drink, but it does exist -- a Chicago Boxcar is the name) Do not think of anything having to do with Thanksgiving or Christmas. Do not look at ads having to do with the holidays. There will be plenty of time to count blessings/cook/suffer holiday depression/buy presents in the weeks to come.

Benedictions and Maledictions
I've gotten a lot of questions about the pictures I use on the blog, both in the past and recently. Instead of trying to answer them all individually, I am almost finished with an essay about this very subject (the pictures themselves, how they are taken, etc.) and will post it next week. Happy Friday!

5 comments:

Anonymous said...

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inBlueJean
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OMightyEyes
Shazammm!!!!!

Scott said...

Michelle,

I really liked 'Spanish Trace'. Thanks for sharing it. I'm also interested to read about your pictures...I like those a lot, as well. :)

Take care, and have a good weekend!

the walking man said...

The mountain top appears at the door in a pink robe. Liked this a lot M...did I ever tell you my wife and I went on the road for our honeymoon as well? Only it had been for 6 months, Mr. Weenie was divorced from that wife two years later.

robthefob said...

"two broken legs and a sprained dick." yes.

Charles Gramlich said...

Some folks never quite figure out what they want in life. Glad I realized it myself