Two nights earlier . . .Snow fell as it did yesterday, as it was predicted to fall again tomorrow. Bare metal cold. Kiss your sister cold. Cracked lip, coagulated blood cold (blood as tar cold). He leans over and says you never know what's coming. I must have looked at him like he had lost his mind. And he says sun or snow, you never know. Then he takes his pot off and shows me this picture. She was gorgeous. He smiles at how I'm looking. His breath like feathers tickling me in our bitter holes. I love her he says. I smile. No, I really love her. I believe you Jesse. His face dropped like I'd said the wrong thing. What? He puts the picture back, as the pot, tightens the strap and stares ahead into the endless gray, shadows moving like snakes. What's wrong I repeat. She don't love me he says. But you know fuckin' what? You never know what's coming. I don't know how long I just stared at him. Me, him, our breath.
__________
(next morning in hospital, Jesse fatally wounded in his arms, he sees Mary)
What's his name?
What?
His name she said. And I realized there was a hole where his name was. Jesse. His name is Jesse.
__________
Tuesday. Having coffee. Lost in the blur of a soft rain. My mind a monet when he asked. No, no I said and then I realized the look on his young face, that he hadn't asked to freshen my coffee as he always did. What did you say? I asked if you knew my father. He was there too. Same city they say. What's his name? I asked. Jesse. His name was Jesse.
I cried as the rain fell. No, I didn't know your father I said. I'm sorry he said. But I knew someone who did.
8 comments:
Usually my own writing only moves me in the writing, not the reading, yet, this post, and I keep reading it and fighting back tears. I have no idea where this emotion is coming from, but I can't hold it back. If I lived in a cabin on the side of a cliff, I would jump, arms out, and enjoy the freedom, the wind in my hair, all the way down.
You never know what's coming, indeed. This moved me, too, Tree. I had to hurry through it but I got choked up and had to go back. Keep emoting for us, please! The fractal today . . . well, I wouldn't post it publicly. It's painful. The colors repeat a work of craftsmanship that I once made and it was not appreciated. Same beautiful glowing colors.
Thanks Limes. Tonight might be a margarita night. Got lime? :-D
OH, I'm always packin'!
Kiss your sister cold. :-D
Love that.
Enormously evocative is the approach taken, the portal to this interwoven tale. The way that you have written these introductory passages so brightly illustrates the grand and great skill that you possess, your story-telling abilities, for on the one hand you have written extensively, varyingly, passionately of a brief series of events, fluttering between then and memory and still, remaining nameless, no emotion expressed verbally, the depth within these dozen-plus parts, these dozen-plus wholes, has been remarkable. What we have learned, we want to learn again. And then, contrastingly, comparatively, this very short passage traces the contours of what one already understands would be an equally pervasive story. With amazing skill, you have replicated, doubled the investment so thankfully given by the reader.
Love all that.
Sigh. So gifted you are.
Sigh, my dear Autumn. Your kindness knows no bounds such as I wish to unbound your hair and let loose the waterfall upon my thigh.
Beyond words...
Thank you S. :-)
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