Where did I go wrong? I searched my memory for that point, the exact moment when I chose the path that led me to my sad and sorry state, but can’t determine it because I have always done the wrong thing, my entire life. I am guilty.
I stayed in bed instead of getting up right away to feed my cat and let her out. Then when I got up I didn’t brush my teeth for over two hours after having cereal and coffee. I told my dental hygienist that I floss twice a day every day, which is a lie. I drove faster than the speed limit and swore, though under my breath at the idiots that I have to share the road with. I interrupted my friend when she was talking, parked my car so it stuck out into a driveway, dripped gasoline on the side of the car and didn’t wipe it off, dropped a gum wrapper on the ground and left it there, trimmed my nails with the big scissors in my desk drawer, left a damp towel on the bathroom floor, put two bottles of wine back on the grocery shelf where they didn’t belong, turned off a DVD movie before I had watched the whole thing even though I had paid for it, fake smiled at the clerk in the drug store, did not go to the gym again for the second week in a row, discarded food into the garbage disposal when the water company has told me it is bad for the environment, left the heater on in the house all day when I am not home, charged another book on my credit card, and I can’t forget this, purchased an espresso machine that I only have used a few times and haven’t gotten my money’s worth, didn’t return a phone call knowing that it would cause an irate reaction in that person, I spent too much time thinking about writing this, and I went back and edited it, too.
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Guilt - Mark Maynard
I’d flown to Hawaii with my eighty one year old grandmother so that we could say “goodbye” to her daughter, my aunt. The lung cancer had metastacized in her brain and I was shocked to see her eyes – permanently crossed and unable to focus clearly on me as I sat in her room taking stock of the end of her life.
I let the two of them have a little time together and I hung out in the front room with Darling, the enormous hospice worker who’d grown up on Kuai. We chatted about how little time my aunt had left on this earth and how the girls were doing everything they could to keep her comfortable. I knew this to be the case as I’d driven to the pharmacy in Hilo earlier that day and picked up enough morphine to relax a beef cow on the way to the slaughterhouse. They didn’t even make me sign for it.
When my grandmother needed another cigarette I helped her out to the far side of the porch (I’d already broken up a mother/daughter conversation earlier when my grandmother lit up too close to the open doorway and my aunt caught a whiff of the smoke):
“Mom, since I’m in here dying of lung cancer, do you think you could wait until you are all the way outside and the door is closed before lighting up a cigarette at my house?”
When I came back inside, my aunt called me back to her bedroom.
She had been waiting for me. Sitting on the bed next to her was a cardboard shirt box and a large manilla envelope. Inside were the hand drawn illustrations and a manuscript for the children’s book she had been working on for years. I hadn’t seen the drawings (many which had scared me) since I was a child. The sketches of the polar bears were beautifully done, but the bearded, heavily browed, green-skinned “Grow” had always set uneasily with me.
I had never had anyone make a dying request of me before, but it’s best to be blunt. My aunt knew of my aspirations to be a published writer and thus she bequeathed her book to me. I sat there and looked in her eyes as best I could and told her that I would be honored to try and find an agent and a publisher that would get her book out there in the children’s market. Then, after saying a last good bye, I put it carefully in my suitcase and brought it home to the mainland. The dusty shirt box that contains my aunt’s dreams, the pinnacle of a vastly creative life, sits under my bed and collects dust. I have done nothing with it other than occasionally slip it out and look at the pages.
I let the two of them have a little time together and I hung out in the front room with Darling, the enormous hospice worker who’d grown up on Kuai. We chatted about how little time my aunt had left on this earth and how the girls were doing everything they could to keep her comfortable. I knew this to be the case as I’d driven to the pharmacy in Hilo earlier that day and picked up enough morphine to relax a beef cow on the way to the slaughterhouse. They didn’t even make me sign for it.
When my grandmother needed another cigarette I helped her out to the far side of the porch (I’d already broken up a mother/daughter conversation earlier when my grandmother lit up too close to the open doorway and my aunt caught a whiff of the smoke):
“Mom, since I’m in here dying of lung cancer, do you think you could wait until you are all the way outside and the door is closed before lighting up a cigarette at my house?”
When I came back inside, my aunt called me back to her bedroom.
She had been waiting for me. Sitting on the bed next to her was a cardboard shirt box and a large manilla envelope. Inside were the hand drawn illustrations and a manuscript for the children’s book she had been working on for years. I hadn’t seen the drawings (many which had scared me) since I was a child. The sketches of the polar bears were beautifully done, but the bearded, heavily browed, green-skinned “Grow” had always set uneasily with me.
I had never had anyone make a dying request of me before, but it’s best to be blunt. My aunt knew of my aspirations to be a published writer and thus she bequeathed her book to me. I sat there and looked in her eyes as best I could and told her that I would be honored to try and find an agent and a publisher that would get her book out there in the children’s market. Then, after saying a last good bye, I put it carefully in my suitcase and brought it home to the mainland. The dusty shirt box that contains my aunt’s dreams, the pinnacle of a vastly creative life, sits under my bed and collects dust. I have done nothing with it other than occasionally slip it out and look at the pages.
Objects in Mirror are Closer Than They Appear - Bonnie Smetts
As I’d said before, you can tell that Randy’s my best friend because she can let me be when I need to. After my time at the Records department, I needed time to let be. Randy had asked how’d it gone and all, but then didn’t press when I didn’t want to tell her what I’d found out. That yes, I got a grandma, and she’s living closer than I really want her to be living to me. If the information on that computer screen was correct. In the Records office, I’d been sent to a computer to do the work but when I’d located the person that’s got to be my grandma, I’d gone back up to the lady at the counter. Are you sure this information is really correct, I’d asked her. She assured me that it was as correct as it could be, baring things like deaths and all. She explained that my momma was probably listed as alive, her death certificate not having been received. But my grandma, now she’s most likely alive, baring that she’d died same time as momma, which isn’t likely.
So now I’m sitting in Randy’s car and we’re going back to Nordeen. Never though I’d really ever want to go home, never thought I’d have that feeling that I had a home, but I couldn’t wait to get to my room and watch the sun go down and the red lights from the diner’s sign come on. I couldn’t wait to sit there in the red night and think. Me and that sign had come together, when the red came on, some how’s it was time to be thinking. I had to look at that box again and take a look at that person who’d be my grandma. Right in the picture, she’d be more like my momma’s age and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see her looking any older. But she sure would be by now. And I have maybe even seen her sometime in my life and not even realized it.
But now I’m just sitting quiet next to Randy, who’s wearing that nice perfume she wears. It’s like being in Hawaii when she wears it, that’s one of the nice things about Randy. That and she never says too much when she knows I got nothing to share. Today my mind is full and as we’re driving along I’m staring at that sign in the side mirror of the new car Randy’s husband’s bought her. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear, objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. Seems pretty fitting seeing that my grandma is practically right under my nose somehow, if that computer had given me the information correctly. I’m staring at the mirror and then the side of the road and when Randy asks after a time, you OK honey, I tell her about my grandma.
So now I’m sitting in Randy’s car and we’re going back to Nordeen. Never though I’d really ever want to go home, never thought I’d have that feeling that I had a home, but I couldn’t wait to get to my room and watch the sun go down and the red lights from the diner’s sign come on. I couldn’t wait to sit there in the red night and think. Me and that sign had come together, when the red came on, some how’s it was time to be thinking. I had to look at that box again and take a look at that person who’d be my grandma. Right in the picture, she’d be more like my momma’s age and I wasn’t sure I wanted to see her looking any older. But she sure would be by now. And I have maybe even seen her sometime in my life and not even realized it.
But now I’m just sitting quiet next to Randy, who’s wearing that nice perfume she wears. It’s like being in Hawaii when she wears it, that’s one of the nice things about Randy. That and she never says too much when she knows I got nothing to share. Today my mind is full and as we’re driving along I’m staring at that sign in the side mirror of the new car Randy’s husband’s bought her. Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear, objects in the mirror are closer than they appear. Seems pretty fitting seeing that my grandma is practically right under my nose somehow, if that computer had given me the information correctly. I’m staring at the mirror and then the side of the road and when Randy asks after a time, you OK honey, I tell her about my grandma.
Objects in Mirror are Closer Than They Appear - Trina Wood
Somewhere along I-5 south of Portland, I wanted out. Out of this damn car, away from these damn kids, just out. I would hitch a ride home or maybe just walk for a few weeks. That sounded kinda good. Walk until my shoes fell apart, until the frustration and stress stopped oozing from my pores. You’d think with 14 years between them, the two spawns of Satan in the backseat wouldn’t fall into the patterns of sibling rivalry that were rampant in my family of five kids when I grew up. My daughter was heading off for college in a few weeks for Christ’s sake and still she couldn’t keep from antagonizing the hell out of her four year old brother. Mom, he’s hitting me again! Then don’t lay your pillow against his car seat; that’s his space. But I don’t want to put my head in the sun, it’s too hot. I could feel my teeth grinding together, reminding me of my latest trip to the dentist when he commented about the wear pattern and asked whether I was under a lot of stress. My grip on the steering wheel made my knuckles white while my husband dozed in the passenger seat, eyes closed, oblivious to the fact that I was close to driving them all off the road and into a ditch. I looked into the rearview mirror to see Britt throwing her pillow up against the side window and pressing her face against it, closing her eyes to the sun beating in on her face. This was supposed to be fun, maybe our last family trip to the San Juans and we’d been miserable the whole ride home. I glanced at her face again, perched over the words in small print, objects in mirror are closer than they appear. Were they? I felt I was losing her, all I wanted was to hold her tight, keep her safe, make sure she didn’t make mistakes.
Objects in Mirror are Closer Than They Appear - Melody Cryns
It’s like a parallel world, Melanie thought as she peered at herself in the mirror…she saw a young girl with long, blondish brown hair wearing hexagon-shaped glasses – they were sort of in, and that patch, that darned eye patch that showed the battle scar of yet another surgery to see if the doctors could fix her blind eye, only they never could.
Her long bell-bottomed pants dragged on the ground which made her happy. Her mom hated it when her jeans frayed. Maybe she should wear the prescription sun glasses, she thought – but the kids in the neighborhood teased her when she wore those, said she looked like a movie star wanna be – her Mom said they were just jealous because they didn’t have sun glasses like hers. At least then maybe people couldn’t see the eye patch, or notice that she was blind in one eye and really it didn’t matter if she wore the patch or not.
Today was a special day and she wasn’t going to let the eye patch bother her. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to see out of both eyes – would everything look different? Would all the objects in her mom’s bedroom suddenly jump out at her like in that 3-D movie where everyone wore those special glasses? As she looked in the mirror, she could see her mom’s bed with the unmistakable blue bedspread, the colorful scarves hanging everywhere, and the beads – and the open closet door with the colorful clothing mixed with the suits from the past – from the early 1960’s…all in safe colors like brown, navy blue and black.
During the week, Mom wore the safe clothes and put her long, long hair up in a bun. But on the weekends she let her hair hang down and she wore tight-fitting black pants and cotton shirts with huge buttons and bright colors, and beads…it was as if Mom was two different people.
Melanie gathered her hair up and piled it up on her head. “Naaaaa!” she thought. She liked it down better – and she wanted bangs again. Why did her mom have to grow out her bangs? She had to wear her hair pulled back in a half-ponytail so it wouldn’t hang in her face.
“Melanie, are you ready yet! It’s time to go!” Mom shouted from the down the hallway.
“Coming!” Melanie’s wooden clogs made a loud clunking noise as she walked down the hardfood floor hallway.
Today was a special day and a momentus occasion – June 1, 1967, on the brink of summer of love – they were on a mission to stand in line at the record store on Haight Street to get the coveted new Beatles record – Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club band.
Her long bell-bottomed pants dragged on the ground which made her happy. Her mom hated it when her jeans frayed. Maybe she should wear the prescription sun glasses, she thought – but the kids in the neighborhood teased her when she wore those, said she looked like a movie star wanna be – her Mom said they were just jealous because they didn’t have sun glasses like hers. At least then maybe people couldn’t see the eye patch, or notice that she was blind in one eye and really it didn’t matter if she wore the patch or not.
Today was a special day and she wasn’t going to let the eye patch bother her. She sometimes wondered what it would be like to see out of both eyes – would everything look different? Would all the objects in her mom’s bedroom suddenly jump out at her like in that 3-D movie where everyone wore those special glasses? As she looked in the mirror, she could see her mom’s bed with the unmistakable blue bedspread, the colorful scarves hanging everywhere, and the beads – and the open closet door with the colorful clothing mixed with the suits from the past – from the early 1960’s…all in safe colors like brown, navy blue and black.
During the week, Mom wore the safe clothes and put her long, long hair up in a bun. But on the weekends she let her hair hang down and she wore tight-fitting black pants and cotton shirts with huge buttons and bright colors, and beads…it was as if Mom was two different people.
Melanie gathered her hair up and piled it up on her head. “Naaaaa!” she thought. She liked it down better – and she wanted bangs again. Why did her mom have to grow out her bangs? She had to wear her hair pulled back in a half-ponytail so it wouldn’t hang in her face.
“Melanie, are you ready yet! It’s time to go!” Mom shouted from the down the hallway.
“Coming!” Melanie’s wooden clogs made a loud clunking noise as she walked down the hardfood floor hallway.
Today was a special day and a momentus occasion – June 1, 1967, on the brink of summer of love – they were on a mission to stand in line at the record store on Haight Street to get the coveted new Beatles record – Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club band.
The Opposite of Me - Chris Callaghan
There’s layers to her, as though she’d put on too many clothes for the temperature of the day.
I wonder if I’m the only one who sees beneath the white cashmere shawl, the top layer she shows to the world. It’s so soft, hand knit by my mother, all innocence, a cotton-candy confection of disguise.
Beneath that shawl are coats of many colors, my father’s army jacket crusty with war, a Guatemalan shirt proclaiming her connection to the wronged peasants, a gray London Fog raincoat stained with years of deluges. If you stand close to her when she walks you can hear the clink of rusted chain mail or catch a glimpse of medieval armor kept brilliantly polished for the camera. The hair shirt is brown and never seen but I know its there. She once showed me the sleeve.
The nun’s habit is black, the confirmation dress pristine white, all of them are costumes for her multiple roles.
I stand next to her and peer into her face trying to see into her eyes, said to be the mirrors of our souls. Her eyes are hooded like a falcons, cast in deep shadow, unreadable, and empty like a corpse.
Look into my eyes and you will see that my sister is the opposite of me.
I wonder if I’m the only one who sees beneath the white cashmere shawl, the top layer she shows to the world. It’s so soft, hand knit by my mother, all innocence, a cotton-candy confection of disguise.
Beneath that shawl are coats of many colors, my father’s army jacket crusty with war, a Guatemalan shirt proclaiming her connection to the wronged peasants, a gray London Fog raincoat stained with years of deluges. If you stand close to her when she walks you can hear the clink of rusted chain mail or catch a glimpse of medieval armor kept brilliantly polished for the camera. The hair shirt is brown and never seen but I know its there. She once showed me the sleeve.
The nun’s habit is black, the confirmation dress pristine white, all of them are costumes for her multiple roles.
I stand next to her and peer into her face trying to see into her eyes, said to be the mirrors of our souls. Her eyes are hooded like a falcons, cast in deep shadow, unreadable, and empty like a corpse.
Look into my eyes and you will see that my sister is the opposite of me.
The Opposite of Me - Randy Wong
“You’re late.”
Opposite Me sits down in the seat across from me panting heavily. Opposite Me is wiping a stain at the front of his shirt.
“Heh. The little one spit up on me this morning. Pureed peas.”
I smile and shrug. “Yeah, I can’t wait until ninety percent of the food she eats stays in her mouth.”
Opposite Me gets a cup of coffee. “So, how did the presentation go?’
“Oh, it was fine,” I remarked. “I traded in half a night’s worth of sleep to get it done, but it was worth it.”
Opposite Me grabs a donut from the box in the coffee station. “Of course, if I hadn’t had to work on the boy’s science project, you would have been done a lot sooner.”
I chuckled. “Man, the things they make kids do these days.”
Opposite Me laughs. “I couldn’t figure out how to make a small scaled tree so I took a fresh head of broccoli and glued the florets to the board. Bang. Instant forest.”
I laugh out loud, almost choking on my coffee. “Ha! How long do you think they will last before rotting away?”
“Oh, it should hold for a little bit. I sprayed a ton of shellac over them.”
Opposite Me paused for a second. “So, how did it go this morning?”
“What? Oh … yeah. It was fine. Pretty much what I expected.”
“Oh. Did he curse you out? Did he call you can asshole?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Someone else in the world who thinks I’m an asshole.”
Opposite Me pointed his index finger at me. “Dude, I told you. You treat people like that, and in the end, everyone will hate your guts.”
I set down my coffee mug loudly. “Look, do you think I like laying people off? It’s the economy, stupid. What am I supposed to do? When the boss says that we will have a reduction in force, and so decide on whom you can let go, what can I do? I am just another cog in the large machine.”
Opposite Me rolled his eyes. “C’mon. There’s go to be a better way to do it.”
“Yeah? If you know one, tell me! You can think I am cold? You think that I didn’t think about his two kids? That the company is paying his severance package in one lump sum? Talk about a big screw you. But you know what? I can’t think of that. If I try to be too sympathetic, then they think I am full of crap. If I try to be too stern, then I am the bad guy who laid them off. I can’t win. But, someone has to make the tough choices, and someone needs to do the dirty deed.”
Opposite Me looked at me and smiled. “Well, I could never do what you do.”
“Well, you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here.”
I poured myself another cup of coffee. “How’s the boy?”
Opposite Me finished off the jelly donut he’d been munching on. “Oh, he’s fine. You know kids that age. I allowed him to release some steam before he felt better about it. Sometimes, you just gotta give them their space.”
“You’re right. I tried yelling at him once when he wouldn’t talk to me. I guess I’m not that patient. You did a good thing.”
Opposite Me wiped the smear of jelly from the side of his mouth. “Well, that’s why I’m here. You’re needed when control and order need to be established. I’m needed when kindness and understanding is called for. That is why this works for us.”
I nodded. “You make a good point. Truth is you’re too much of a wimp to make it in today’s cutthroat corporate world.”
Opposite Me smiled. “Yeah, well, you’re so aggressive, today’s little pea spittle would have degenerated into an all out food fight.”
“Ha! Hey, if she can’t take it, then don’t spit it!”
Opposite Me does a double take and reaches into his pocket. “Oh! That reminds me. I am supposed to remind you that Katie says don’t forget to add chicken thighs to the shopping list. You do remember that you’ll need to shop after work, right?”
“Huh. Well, I remember now.”
Opposite Me got up from his seat. “Lunch is just about over. Try not to be late. We’re supposed to help the boy with his math homework tonight.”
Making a mental note, I nodded. “Got it…”
* * * * * * * * *
“… hear me? Dude! Can you hear me?!”
I rouse myself from deep thought. “Yeah, yeah – I’m here. Time to go back to work?”
My assistant John stares at me for a second, and then punches me in the shoulder. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Geez, you were a thousand miles away. What were you thinking about?’
I put my coffee mug into the sink, and start washing it. “Um, just thinking about stuff I have to do after work.”
Opposite Me sits down in the seat across from me panting heavily. Opposite Me is wiping a stain at the front of his shirt.
“Heh. The little one spit up on me this morning. Pureed peas.”
I smile and shrug. “Yeah, I can’t wait until ninety percent of the food she eats stays in her mouth.”
Opposite Me gets a cup of coffee. “So, how did the presentation go?’
“Oh, it was fine,” I remarked. “I traded in half a night’s worth of sleep to get it done, but it was worth it.”
Opposite Me grabs a donut from the box in the coffee station. “Of course, if I hadn’t had to work on the boy’s science project, you would have been done a lot sooner.”
I chuckled. “Man, the things they make kids do these days.”
Opposite Me laughs. “I couldn’t figure out how to make a small scaled tree so I took a fresh head of broccoli and glued the florets to the board. Bang. Instant forest.”
I laugh out loud, almost choking on my coffee. “Ha! How long do you think they will last before rotting away?”
“Oh, it should hold for a little bit. I sprayed a ton of shellac over them.”
Opposite Me paused for a second. “So, how did it go this morning?”
“What? Oh … yeah. It was fine. Pretty much what I expected.”
“Oh. Did he curse you out? Did he call you can asshole?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Someone else in the world who thinks I’m an asshole.”
Opposite Me pointed his index finger at me. “Dude, I told you. You treat people like that, and in the end, everyone will hate your guts.”
I set down my coffee mug loudly. “Look, do you think I like laying people off? It’s the economy, stupid. What am I supposed to do? When the boss says that we will have a reduction in force, and so decide on whom you can let go, what can I do? I am just another cog in the large machine.”
Opposite Me rolled his eyes. “C’mon. There’s go to be a better way to do it.”
“Yeah? If you know one, tell me! You can think I am cold? You think that I didn’t think about his two kids? That the company is paying his severance package in one lump sum? Talk about a big screw you. But you know what? I can’t think of that. If I try to be too sympathetic, then they think I am full of crap. If I try to be too stern, then I am the bad guy who laid them off. I can’t win. But, someone has to make the tough choices, and someone needs to do the dirty deed.”
Opposite Me looked at me and smiled. “Well, I could never do what you do.”
“Well, you don’t have to. That’s why I’m here.”
I poured myself another cup of coffee. “How’s the boy?”
Opposite Me finished off the jelly donut he’d been munching on. “Oh, he’s fine. You know kids that age. I allowed him to release some steam before he felt better about it. Sometimes, you just gotta give them their space.”
“You’re right. I tried yelling at him once when he wouldn’t talk to me. I guess I’m not that patient. You did a good thing.”
Opposite Me wiped the smear of jelly from the side of his mouth. “Well, that’s why I’m here. You’re needed when control and order need to be established. I’m needed when kindness and understanding is called for. That is why this works for us.”
I nodded. “You make a good point. Truth is you’re too much of a wimp to make it in today’s cutthroat corporate world.”
Opposite Me smiled. “Yeah, well, you’re so aggressive, today’s little pea spittle would have degenerated into an all out food fight.”
“Ha! Hey, if she can’t take it, then don’t spit it!”
Opposite Me does a double take and reaches into his pocket. “Oh! That reminds me. I am supposed to remind you that Katie says don’t forget to add chicken thighs to the shopping list. You do remember that you’ll need to shop after work, right?”
“Huh. Well, I remember now.”
Opposite Me got up from his seat. “Lunch is just about over. Try not to be late. We’re supposed to help the boy with his math homework tonight.”
Making a mental note, I nodded. “Got it…”
* * * * * * * * *
“… hear me? Dude! Can you hear me?!”
I rouse myself from deep thought. “Yeah, yeah – I’m here. Time to go back to work?”
My assistant John stares at me for a second, and then punches me in the shoulder. “Wake up, sleeping beauty. Geez, you were a thousand miles away. What were you thinking about?’
I put my coffee mug into the sink, and start washing it. “Um, just thinking about stuff I have to do after work.”
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
