creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 15)

Continued from chapter 14 of the Devastation Series.

It was all surreal. I gave up momentarily by shutting down my feelings and care. As more time passed, I started to feel things again, this time in intense waves. I navigated hope, sorrow, anger, and great disappointment. It felt unfair – but then I felt shame that I was being selfish. Since it was his suffering and others’ sufferings that would be impacted, I did not think that worrying about me was appropriate for that time. Regardless, the feelings inside remained and consumed me like he had already passed. I had to remind myself that nothing was final yet. My ego chimed in with encouragement as well. The doctor had not reviewed the scans yet. Surely, there would be solutions or maybe there was a misdiagnosis. I reframed the situation and searched for more medical advice from the internet. Nothing good ever came from Dr. Google’s images for me.

I needed to think about something else and after another shot of alcohol, it became easier. Nothing was going to change that I could help with at that time so, I tried to continue and encourage myself. Slightly tipsy, I bobbled over to the desk. I sat down with a large chair creak as I flopped down and rocked the chair backward. A surge of adrenaline spiked my chest with a sharp gasp, thinking I was going to fall. I stabilized and collected myself, “Settle down now, Jake,” I muttered. I slid the Macbook open and tried random words at the login screen. Each time the screen shook with the same failed attempt. “I wonder if Sam had a good memory…” I asked myself. Like most people, maybe he had a password book somewhere. Since he wrote many things down I determined that it was worth hoping for. He was online before the Digitization Act, so that habit could have still existed.

There were several drawers in the desk. A center one, two small drawers on each side, and a filing drawer to the bottom right. The desk was weathered and worn from use and the compressed wood pilled away in spots which appeared to be old condensation rings. Dust bunnies congregated in corners where my cleaning rag had missed the pickup. Like a snowplow in a parking lot – little piles collected where my strokes ended. I knocked several to the floor as I picked a drawer. I opened the top right drawer first and rummaged through the contents. Common items like a stapler, paper clips, calculator, and pens were loosely organized in the front. I reached to the back and slid the contents forward. Several small half-empty notepads and loose-leaf pages slid forward, pushing the office supplies around. I flipped through the existing pages but didn’t find anything of value to my cause. Sporadic scribbles or imprints from the notes prior were all that was left. I even looked at those impressions but did not see anything that I could decipher as the answer to my questions.

The next drawer contained more of the same. I found a few miscellaneous notes-to-self but nothing of any real help in the investigation. I continued to the middle drawer next but only found a business cardholder. I had not seen one of those in ages. I flipped through the cards and saw a few personal cards. I also saw a few cards from local horticulturists, which I found to be of potential value. There was a chance that if I was desperate enough, someone at one of these places may have information that could be useful. It was a long time ago, but the timeframe that was in question was memorable for some people. I could also research more on self-sustainment with some of these contacts. With my detective hat back on, I was convinced that something of value would turn up. I took another swig, shaking off the swallow. I remembered my father as I sat the bottle down. The weight of the thoughts pressed on me again. The drunk feeling switched from forgetting about it to making it the focus. I slammed my elbows on the table and buried my face into my hands. I fought the drowsiness but couldn’t escape too far…

A shriek of panic projected from my mouth as I grasped at the desk and empty air while I fell backward. The chair tilted back from my weight while I dozed off. I laid on my back, feet in a mangled position above me, draped over the chair seat, and legs. I stared at the ceiling and felt pressure with throbbing pains throughout my extremities. Some of it was the angle, some of it was the impact of my fall. I laid there, pretzel-like for several minutes. Helplessness overcame me and I started to cry as the drunken stupor kicked back in. I drifted off again and stirred awake when some of the proof finally wore off.

I had finished falling and my body laid sideways over the chair back with my legs to the side. I rolled to my stomach with some heavy grunts. I pulled my legs around and held myself steadily on knees and elbows then collapsed back to the floor and rested my forehead on the rug. I caught myself before I zoned back out and looked back towards the chair. I maneuvered my body to the side vs. laying over the chair back. With my chin on the ground, my eyes looked to the desk. I saw a yellow square under the desk, against the body of it. I barely balanced my wobbly self as I forcefully nudged the chair out of my way, with a grunt.

It was dark under the desk and my vision was impaired so I could not decipher much more than letters. I pulled the posted note off, pulled myself upright, and slapped it on the desk overhead. I grabbed the side of the desk and hoisted my body vertical to a slouching stance. I balanced on the palms of my hands countering the sways that were natural to me at that moment. The note appeared to be a small list.

WORLDISLOST012020
DEVASTATION022020
ESCAPETOMW052020
MWWY082020

What was it, I wondered, as I tried to focus? I was not able to think so any analysis was out of the question. I was consumed by physiological pains from earlier, the sways and stomach churns were all I could think about. Recounting how I got to that point led me back to what was going on. I patted the post-note as if to say “I’ll be back for you.”

I pulled the phone from my pocket and checked for any missed calls. I turned around and fell into the wall on the way to the bathroom to relieve the pressure. My bladder was screaming and with my stumbles, I barely made it in time. On my way out from the toilet, I passed the desk and took another couple swigs from the luke-warm bottle. I gagged and blew a heavy sigh from the burning in my throat. My care-meter was not registering with common sense was out the window. I fell across the room back to the couch and face planted. I felt the moisture from my warm breaths condensate on my nose and cheeks. I pulled my phone from my pocket and moved it to my face. Holding it only inches from my face, I could see my breaths fog the screen. The stench of whiskey clouded my face. I selected the text function and Valerie with one hand, as I balanced the phone on a decorating pillow and couch. I pecked, “Daddsas inn hospital the comma.” Send. I realized the gross typing after hitting send and chalked it up to the moment. It was not a regular practice – but drunk texting was a real thing to me.

Several hours later, I found myself clumsily shuffling to the bathroom. I was momentarily sober in between spells of adrenaline. I washed my hands in the sink and gawked at the mirror. My jaw hung open and the spit dripped down my lips string like then fell into the sink. My eyes were puffy, and dark bags had formed highlighting the red around my corneas. I wiped my nose with my wrist and ran it underwater. Anger was running through my body and I couldn’t think straight enough to sway it one way or the other. I spit at myself in the sink and stomped back to the couch. I slammed the rest of the bottle and tossed it to the side of the room. I slurred “What the F#@K…” with a slurped spit gasp, “is wrong with me?” And faded back away.

I heard banging in the background but it did not register where it was coming from. I jumped, “Ahhh!!!” as a pain shot across the back of my head. I abruptly swung around glaring at a figure.
“Get the f@#k up,” Valerie said in a tone I had not heard yet. I could make her out, with voice recognition.
“What the hell is it with you?” My limited quick wit snapped back. 
“Get. Up.” She reiterated. I pushed myself up and moved to a sitting position. She handed me a hot coffee from Coffee Joe’s down the street. The label on the side of the cup read “Chai – Dirty – 2++” It was loaded with extra espresso.
“What… are you…?” I started to question, as I began to come to my senses, but was still dazed from the quick activity. I looked at my watch – 11 AM.
“You will get my attention if I call you, and you’re a dick.” She stated plainly.
“What are you talking about?” I turned over my phone to several missed calls and texts.
“I got your illegible texts this morning when I awoke for chores. Worried about your dad – I called you right away. It wasn’t even that early – 7-8, maybe? Then you answered, slurred, mentioned something about not caring, and fell asleep during the convo. With snores…” She started to do the body motions to support her sassy attitude.
“I talked to you?” It was more rhetorical at this point.
“Yee-aa-hhh…” She drew out the response with sarcasm, “you’re not going to do this now.” We both took a sip from our coffee cups. The sweet and spicy chai was refreshing against the stale booze left in my mouth. “If you are going to fall apart, I get it… but we don’t know anything yet, so get it and hold it together. Now get your ass up and get dressed… clean clothes… and then let’s go.” She snapped into a mom mode. I was not sure how I felt about that, but did as she asked.
“How did you? When?” I was silenced by the look on her face. I forced myself up and limped to the clothes piles to pick out fresh jeans and T. 
“Get going, I will tell you details when you’re moving.” She instructed. I continued to grab my underwear and socks then moved to the bathroom. She added, “Rinse off… you stink.” I turned on the water and cracked the door. I stepped into the stall and the water pounded against my throbbing head. The hot water ran over my body and the steam cleared my sinuses. 
“So can you fill me in on some details – please, Val?” I called out from the bathroom with an echo. 
“After I got you on the phone, I knew you were not in a good way. I then called the hospital and check on the status of your dad. I talked to the nurses and got the latest. I remembered the apartment complex from your navigation system in the car, and you talked about 116. I knew how I would find you – so I grabbed a coffee. Your kind of coffee. And me one too.” She had a more pleasant tone now.
“Ok, I don’t know if I should be impressed or scared. Quick – Dad?” I stopped to listen.
“No update… more than what you know I’d imagine. Rounds didn’t happen yet.” She replied.
“Okay…” I paused to cough, “so how did you get in?”
“The front door was unlocked as was your apartment.” She said with an underlying you-are-an-idiot tone.
“F@#$,” was all that I could get out. 
“Not all true… I came over right after you were a moron on the phone. I called the hospital on the way over here. I did know how I would find you. I did not know that your front door would be open. Then I got to your apartment, or Samuels – 116 – whatever… I banged on your door for — God knows how long — and you answered. Well, you didn’t really answer… you unlocked it and I came in just as you were falling back on the couch.”
“I answered?!?!” a shrill shock choked out of me in the water.
“I came in – assessed the situation… waited for a few moments then woke you up.” I could almost hear her eyes rolling.

“Thank you.” I could not say much else at this point. All frustration converged into humility and shame. The red-eyed-baggy-faced man in the mirror from earlier that morning was staring back at me again. I stood, naked, in front of the shower. I looked down and dried off, then got dressed. The water brought some life to me and the blood flow added some temporary pep to my step. The heavy feelings were pushed to the side and I functioned out of expectation. The cool apartment air rushed over my head and face. My ears felt hot from the shower and quite possibly conversation under breaths. I took another drink from the coffee cup and saw the empty bottle against the wall where the cap had popped off. A small dent, like a crescent moon, was imprinted in the wall right above… where it rested. 
“Souvenir?” She asked, mocking me.
“I guess so…” I said, ashamed and humiliated. She could easily see the weight that grew on my shoulders.
“Not my first rodeo – Jake. You have the right to be upset. You let something get the best of you, though. Happens… It is the decision you make after that – that counts. Now let’s go. And don’t make me hunt your ass down again.” She offered empathy followed by a stern tone.” I rubbed my face and my hands over my head then smacked my cheeks like I was trying to blush them, in a wake-up effort. I grabbed my things and we walked out of the door. I made a point to be obvious that I locked it as we left.
“What did you mean not your first rodeo?” I asked as we pulled our masks over our faces.
“Remember my story that I said I would tell you?” She looked at me.
“Yes, I do.” I nodded.
“Well… when you hear that, you’ll understand.” She looked straight ahead to the parking lot. “But not right now…” she ended the sentence and chance of that story right then.

The car was warm from the sun and without the cooling environment kicked in. “Alexa, cool us down, please,” I called out as we got in. Within a couple of minutes, the hyper-tint had adjusted and the stabilization was running at full capacity. Once the car cooled off, and we settled in, I selected the hospital. “Any music you would like – we have a few minutes?” I looked at Valerie.
“Just pick something.” She continued looking ahead. Her face is often full of expressions but was very somber this time. She did not wear much makeup, and she always appeared to be put together. Whether it was casual or working – she looked the part. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and brown eyes drew you into her face. She was deep into herself. I could not tell if it was buried emotion or focused attention. I picked a 20’s/30’s rock playlist and turned the volume up.

We did not say a word on our way to the hospital. I think we both dwelled on our lack of knowledge as to what was happening to Dad. While medical care is always improving, there are still things in the body that we cannot resolve. And neither of us were ready to learn what else couldn’t be helped. It may have just been the anxiety of arriving – hearing unwelcomed news, I told myself. We both listened to music as the trees jogged by. I had not noticed the sun tuck itself behind a thunder-wall. “Fitting,” I thought to myself. Layers of gray piled over the sun just under halfway in the sky. While we were driving away from the storm, the clouds still overtook us. The afternoon started to look like an evening around the time we turned into the hospital parking lot.

It felt like weights were being piled on us as we stepped out of the car; lead boots with the additional weight each step. We managed to hit all the elevators either empty or opening up. Not stalling was helpful, but it still did not alleviate the feelings of being trapped or lost; a sense of being controlled. I was sure that once we knew something we would be able to go on with our day. Be normal. Like it was a bad dream, I convinced myself that I would wake up and my life would resume. My ego started preying on both sides of the scenario. What if he dies? What if he awoke – what about if he was a vegetable? While I did not want to go back, I wished that Maggie could listen. She was a place that I could vent, albeit at the price of my emotional safety. It worked for so long though. She knew the backgrounds that Valerie did not.

I opened the door of his room and a nurse was looking at his chart. She looked over at us and gave us and an apologetic nod. We tiptoed into the room like it was full of shards of glass. “Are you family?” The nurse asked as she turned to face us.
“Son and …” I paused, running through the options in my mind. I blurted the first one that came to my mind, without thinking it through… “Son and my fiance.” The glare I received could have turned Medusa to stone. Valerie raised her arms and placed her hand on my bicep with a squeeze. Her tiny hands cupped my arm while her fingers dug into the muscle. She didn’t have to work very hard at it since I was mostly skin and bone.
“Thanks… honey…” she looked away from me to the nurse. “Has the case been evaluated beyond the AIS’s?” The nurse swiped the digital pages back and forth a few times before turning back to Valerie,
“Not yet – the rounds will be any moment now,” then she looked back to the charts. The nurse finished up her review and left the room.

The room grew deathly quiet. I thought about the room that way, the prospects restricted my airways and made my breathing short. I am not sure if Valerie was role-playing – or if she genuinely cared, but she gently rubbed the center of my back which had started to sweat. I suddenly found myself in the jungle of emotions, which, I knew I would have to hatchet through very soon. Furniture creaked and beeps echoed making the room seem empty and hollow. The footprints were amplified from the hallway and even breathing seemed loud in the still… I felt like I had nowhere to turn and lost time while I stared blankly through the floor and ceiling tiles. “I do not know what to do Valerie…and I don’t even have a decision to make yet.” 
“It will come to you,” she said delicately. We did not know each other on a deep level, but there was obvious care shared between her and me. She offered me basic human comforts as she side hugged me then patted my leg. I subtly shook my head while maintaining my stare, unsure if I was disagreeing or just making any motion for acknowledgment.

I grew increasingly restless with the silence, I started telling stories that I had held on to over the years. I began telling the empty room, but Valerie was my intended audience. I first recalled a fishing trip from my early childhood. “My father woke me up one Saturday morning to catch the big one. We were sure of the spot this time… We had gone fishing dozens of weekends, but this one stands out to me.” I felt a giddiness in my voice. “We always got to the lake before the sun was peeking over the horizon. He would wake me up around 3 AM, or at least that is what I remember [laughs]. It was flipp’n early – if not that early. I would wake up and sit in a chair that we had in the living room. He would pour a bowl of cereal and eat while watching an infomercial on the tv. He never bought anything from the advertising. I think that he just liked seeing the ridiculousness of the items. It would just be playing quietly in the house adding life to the night, while he ate. I would sometimes make a bowl of cereal too. After waking up for a few minutes, I would go get a playset of jeans and a T-shirt that could become ‘fishy.’ This time, I had a special vest that I put on.

“It was a fishing or sporting vest. Little pockets were all over it like it was a tactical vest, I had little things crammed in each one. I know that I had a couple of palm-sized toys in one, but I remember having a couple of the plastic grubs that I liked using in another. I had miniature bobbers in one of the side pockets. They were for watching if you had a bite – the bobber weighed the line down with some slack and would slam to the pole if a fish took off with your bait. Or we would troll once in a while and I would set the bobber for the depth that I thought the sunfish or crappies were biting. I had gum in another pocket, Baseball Bubble Chew to be exact, the only real gum, and a multipurpose tool that my dad gave me from his box. I was most proud of the patch that I had ironed on earlier that week. I was beside myself when it came in the mail. I caught a fish that qualified me to join a bass fishing club. I felt like a big-time fisher-man at this point. I sent in a picture of the fish with a story about catching it – and there you have it – a professional. Well obviously… It felt like it to me,” I took a breath and collected my thoughts. Valerie continued watching me just taking it all in.

“This particular Saturday, we took out the boat. A semi-v bottom boat that my dad got a good deal on, well according to him. We didn’t always take it – but it was more special when we did! I think it may be the work that we put into that boat; like a small hobby. We cut a floorboard and mounted it in the boat before the winter last year. We could not afford the big bass boats… so we made due and made our own. The floor was like a subfloor, acting as storage, a live well, and allowed us to sit proudly on top of it in a chair. Just like we saw on TV or in a Pro-Am tournament. This Saturday, was different though. We got to the lake early and hit the water right as the sky was turning pink and orange. We could barely make out the water but didn’t need the flashlight. I always loved getting out there about that time.

“All boats leaked, or at least that is what I thought. Getting in and out of the board, I tracked water up to my front of the boat perch. I think over time it weakened the boards. Anyway…” I used my hands to move to the main point. “It was the first bite of the day. I yanked back to set the hook and pulled the rod tip into the air over my head… As I pulled up and back, I remember seeing the sky then the water and a sudden intense coldness. The board gave way, and as I leaned back – I flipped over the side of the boat. I flailed in the water and grabbed the side of the boat in a panic! I about knocked Dad over as I rocked the boat in my freak out. I mean, I wasn’t going anywhere… It was the startle that did me in… well, and along with the tangles of twine. My dad, darted to the front of the boat, maintaining his balance, and pulled me back inside. Man… He laughed so hard. I was sopping wet…”
“It sounds like a colorful memory, Jake.” Valerie used a soft voice. I was pulled back from the storyland and looked to her, then up to my dad. I looked back at the floor. She continued, “Those are what makes him so great. He loves you.”
“Loved.” I interrupted.
“We don’t know that yet, Jake. Maybe… maybe not.” She almost scolded me.

I continued with stories. Some were out loud, and some were in my head. Some were bold and disruptive to other thoughts; my mischief caused some frustration, I recalled. Some were soft like lullabies as I remembered his delicate side. It was nice to sit with someone. I knew that she was there, at that moment, with me. It was comforting to think about and not quite comprehendible. After several long pauses, Valerie spoke up. “I was married once,” she broke the silence and had to clear her throat. “When I was younger, I married someone that didn’t really care for people. Of course, I didn’t know until he sort of… changed. We lived next door to your dad. Your dad was a very respectable man… One day, after the abuse was too much, I ran away… It didn’t start with that… the abuse. I am no pansy Jake, there were days I could not go outside from the marks…” The silence amplified and I could hear the pain in her voice. “Steve was away for a few hours – we had fought in the morning. He was always drunk and isolated himself from everyone. I wanted a child. I don’t know what I was thinking… Maybe it would change him… but I was also seeing the dead-end for what it was. When he left… I ran away… [chuckled] next door to your dad’s…”

The story was a major clue into Valerie. I felt an olive branch of trust pass between us in that moment. After a momentary pause, she started to continue, but the door was tapped and swung open at the same time. “Jake? The son?” The short man in a smock looked to me as he entered. His face was straight and emotionless. The lines were dark, and bags were piled, below his eyes. His voice was raspy like he coached a ballgame right before entering the room. His hair was parted with oil of some sort and his face needed shaving.
“Yes Sir, that is me. And Val…” I motioned beside me.
“We need to talk about your dad.” He pulled the stool out by the computer workstation, sat, and logged in. “I have had a chance to review the AI-Scan and think that it is mostly accurate.” He trailed off and pulled the documents he was reading onto the display beside me. He continued in a hollow tone, “We have some decisions to make. I am sorry, son…”

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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Nausea Napping and Nada Writing.

I am sitting down first thing on Sunday to write for a few moments. I am just priming the old writing motors, or maybe that is what I am trying to convince myself… It is 12:14 AM and I am trying to get some mojo goin’. I am hung up on the edit of Chapter 15 in my novel and continuing to write Chapter 16. I really only started 16 to finish a thought in 15… darn cliff hangers – and I couldn’t wait to tie that piece off. So, maybe a quick post of my weekend will act as a turbo boost for the things that I am working on.

Today was a whole-lotta-nada. The house (or people in it) were crabby on Saturday morning. A lot of waking in the prior night, for storms and a couple other things. Then we had a showing scheduled for the house, so I got up (ugg-me-tired-no-wake-ug-ug) and helped make sure that it was ready. It turns out that the scheduled showings backed out – and the others … some blah blah blah… The house got a quick tidy for it though. It is never really “messy.”

I started to feel nauseous and went to the bedroom for a faceplant. Kazho popped up for a little snuggle before he burrowed in deeper and under the covers. I napped for 30-60m; mostly dozing but I did konk out. Q came in shortly after the house went quiet and we both snuggled for a long afternoon nap. It has been quite some time since I have done that. After she got up, I decided that I needed to become vertical for a bit too. A part of me thinks there is a stress or anxiety that unfinished business in my psychi. So it is looming around like a spirit not crossed over yet. I spent some time today trying to name that feeling.

Made it through the rest of the day adulting where I needed to. I have a few things that I want to convey in writing – so I hope that I can find that spotlight. Even if it’s just for a moment. So, I am starting with this little blog entry. I have the other pieces fired up to continue or edit. Sometimes writing is work. I think now is one of those times. I can feel the nap wearing off and I am yawning once again. So here goes to kicking off some music. I would say, that this weekend was not wasted. I just moved forward on things that I was not focusing specifically on. Which, does not make it wrong…

Happy Sunday people. What dust’ thou’ do to engage ye mojo?

WW. joe

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coffee. check. writing buddy-where did he go?

I sat down to write and my writing buddy disappeared. He got his quick snuggle in and poof. Gone. Boo on him.

I am off of work tomorrow (Friday). I have so many things to do – but so many things I would rather be doing. I have to be out of the apartment in about a week, so there is that. Luckily, I do not have many things. The hardest part will be determining how to move the couch since I don’t really have help available at the moment. I most likely have access to a truck but the hands… is what I am missing. The hands that would be available to me, normally, are busy adulting and … well maybe we can find a way to make it work. In case you missed it, I do not like moving, LOL.

So I am going to ride the wind for the rest of tonight. I would like to finish Chapter 15 in my series. I mean, it is written, but the rereading, editing, and cohesiveness needs work. I am nodding off too. I would like to manage an hour or so… make that dent, y’know? I got lost a few minutes ago, searching Wish and Amazon for camping + survival gear. I am excited to do the woods thing but I also know that… it’s not gonna help me right now!

I am going to turn on Amazon Unlimited, select a song to rock out to, and sip a final cup of coffee. I will sleep in a little later in the morning (like 0800 or close), so there is an uptick for the kick off tomorrow. I hope you are able to process whatever that you need to. I hope that your to-do list dwindles and that you get a good rest. Even if it’s a nap snuck in. Here is to kicking off a weekend. Writing + Moving + ????

ww,
joe

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Two lives. Lifetimes apart. Rediscover humanity…

In a future world where a pandemic recreated society, a man stumbles upon a record of what happened from a survivor’s perspective. As he relives some of the histories, he also relearns humanity for himself in the process. Follow Jake through his exploration of what was to what is and connect with two lives that ultimately want the same things lifetimes apart.

Start reading Part One.

See the Devastation series. (Chapter 16 now in progress)

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surviving in the mountains for one week

I had an amazing conversation on Sunday. And it will likely end up with Lindsay’s brother, Taylor, and me, in the woods, with only the essentials, to tough it out. The idea would be that we would hunt, fish or forage for our meals and shelter. We started doing a bit of planning and education right away. I mean, we don’t want to be crazzzzy or anything. But seriously, this is so exciting to me. I have wanted to do something like this since my friend, Chris and I talked about it in 2002.

The idea is that we will go to Colorado (most likely candidate) or somewhere in Appalachia and do one of two things while there. Either hike a pre-planned trail and live in the woods the duration. So we would walk 20-30 miles and make what we needed, as we went along. Option two, is that we would do some hiking, but spend our time, fishing, hunting and exploring, not worrying about a destination. So we have some figuring out to do. While we can be somewhat spontaneous on this trip – we do need to have a detail like that mapped out.

I researched way back when – and was about to hire a trainer. I think that I would just research now, and take enough amenities that if everything went to hell we would have an out. I have been thinking of it like a golf game. We take X items where we would survive if we needed to. The goal would be that we end with what we start. With some pointing system, we then would subtract (or add) with every item used. Every cheat, would cost us. Some gamification to encourage all survival but a way to not die if we needed to use it. Very basic stuff. Like take a protein bar – but we aim to hunt, fish, and forage.

There will be (2) people going so that was my first obstacle when I wanted to try this again after my 2002 opportunity was missed. I would not be able to get off 30 days from work – so it’s down to a week. That was the other thing… I can get off a couple of weeks if I plan it in advance. I am excited and going to do it… I think… We have some more coordinating and planning to make it happen. I think I have some things to research and emergency items to start thinking about plus aquiring.

What say ye? Would you do something like this? What do you think of the idea?

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Meal K.O.’d was OK. – Sautéed Garlic Onion Kale

Soundtrack: Everybody Knows – Sigrid (Justice League…)

The original recipe was found on Pinterest and was broken down on their website. The soundtrack has no significance to this post, outside of it was just playing

So, we had a bunch of kale in the fridge that needed to be used. While I have tried them several different ways, kale chips, taste about as good as well… I cannot think of any food item to compare. It’s an odd place to be really. I dislike it by itself but could manage to eat it if I was stranded on an island (where kale is apparently the only food that is available). Normally, we would use it in a salad. I have also had a few smoothies where it was an ingredient. Of course, the quantity varied since it does pack quite the punch. (Punch… knockout in the title… kale…onions… KO… see what I did there, LOL… and if you explaining a joke… not very punny…).

Well, I looked up a sautéed kale recipe and found this particular one. I only changed a couple things, minor really, but wanted to post about it. The recipe becomes a little loosey-goosey when explaining the steps to make it. Which, I am totally fine with, except the author has some steps that appear out of order and while I read it ahead of time, I didn’t catch the order until I started making it. So, I could have just been reading it wrong, but it lost me. So, here’s to some clarification.

Garlic Sautéed Kale w/ Caramelized Salted Onions & Pepper (for a kick in the boo-tay)

Ingredients

• 2-3 tablespoons avocado oil or coconut oil
• 1 onion halved and sliced thinly
• 1 head kale I used lacinato or dinosaur, washed, and thinly sliced
• 1/4 teaspoon sea salt to taste
• 1 tablespoon apple cider vinegar optional
• 1 teaspoon red pepper flakes optional

Instructions

1. Setup a large skillet over low heat. She used a caste iron, I needed a lid, so pick your favorite I guess.
2. Add the oil and heat and let gradually heat.
3. Add the onion, and stir so that it gets coated with oil, then sauté for 10-15 minutes, maintaining a stir so you don’t burn any (I started to…) The slow cooking, on low, caramelizes the onions which brings a sweet pop. If you taste them and they are sweet OR don’t have the onion bite… you’re golden.
4. Add the kale on top along w/ 1-2 tablespoons water.
5. Increase the heat to medium and cover.
6. Steam the kale for about 5-10 minutes until the kale is wilted and tender. Remove the lid and stir to incorporate the onions. (I cooked them all separately for a short time until I realized that the intent was to steam together – but I proved that you can cook separately and bring together, still with a good result).
7. Add some salt to taste. Sprinkle in the vinegar and pepper flakes and saute another minute or two to evaporate any leftover moisture. If you want less spicy add less pepper or add more for a kick. You could do the pepper as a topping for each person’s preferences. Your call. I used more and Q used less.
8. Taste and adjust seasonings. It does reheat fairy well. It is OKAY to PLAY!
9. SIDE NOTE: It does reheat well. I also rolled in a burrito with rice and sausage with part of the leftovers. Muy bueno!

It is really good and pretty darn good for you. I did not take any pictures this time so forgive the Google Image! URL is linked to source content.

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moving + baggage

Soundtrack: A Reason to Fight – Disturbed

I had become so engrossed in writing my book, Devastation, that I forgot how good it felt to just get words off of my chest. Letting thoughts fly into the world feels good. So good. Just getting them out there – is powerful. With my recent, non-book post, Meh Update, I remembered why I started blogging again in the first place. The book has become more of a hobby and a world that I escape into. Maybe even a shinny object (see the 3rd paragraph), at times. I need to work on some balance with that. I think that I have felt deprived of so many things that when I find a real spark, or joy, I run with it… Yes I realize that is self inflicted, maybe an exaggeration, or just a twisted view – but it is a feeling that I am processing none-the-less. And my deprivation – is not necessarily well proportioned. I mean, the things that I am battling in my head, are pitiful in comparison to so many other problems that people face. That doesn’t mean they do not exist and since I am living with them – they will feel bigger… to me. Feelings – are not always logical. And that is okay too. It’s what we are gonna do with them, or not do with them, that should matters.

On to today’s topic. It is really more a flavor of the month… It is a thing that I despise. It is one of the things that I simultaneously have become quite good at, and want to bury my head in the sand from. Moving. My lease is up at the apartment and Lindsay and I are moving towards our own place, together. With The Year Turnaround (or TYT), I reflected on moving a couple of times in a short period of time. This week, I even brought it up to my therapist. Moving has a stigma for me and was never really pleasant. Sure, there were times that we moved to improve our living – or perhaps moving across the country following a job… But mostly, recently, it was for a not-so-good-reason. Granted, as in TYT, it was self inflicted, that does not change my Skinner views and things. It is a learning process though, to not bypass the negative. Bypassing just continues burying the feelings. We need to feel it, and wade through it. I know, easier said than done. I am trying to also view the world as just a thing – and the feelings are what we associate with it. Change the feeling – change the thing (or experience). Either way – it has to get done and I have been doing what I can. In regards to moving… I have a couple weeks to go and I am about 30% done, I would say. Not too shabby.

Q and I were talking tonight, and we reflected on some events that were well over year ago. I was blindsided. Not intensionally, on her part. Feelings associated with one of those darker times slammed like waves crashing me into the shore. And then I felt washed ashore… and hypothermic + part drowned. It was a set of feelings that I had buried. I think that it was mostly shame that helped me cover it. I made it to the other side and did not want to look back. I have done that so many times in life, while we are being honest and reflecting. Some new fad, new hobby, habit, or other thing… (work too at some point, possibly…very likely…). Take my ADD from looking left to looking right and focus on that new thing. It is all a part of wading through our feelings just like I mentioned while discussing the moving. It is easier to walk around it. It is easier to walk over it or walk away from it. It is the walking through it that makes the impact though. I survived this. Then once we are on the other side, having waded the marshes (or swamp lands for some of us), we have a map for the future. We do not have to be scared of exploring the wilderness any longer. We can even be a guide to others, possibly, if we are strong enough. Oh, the lessons that I have avoided. TYT kicked off a healing period and it will take time to retrace my steps and make my maps.

What are you walking around – or over – or away from? If you are walking with it or ready to walk through it do you have a guide? Sunday Challenge: Walk through one memory and feel it. The good, the bad, and the ugly. Here is the thing… Q told me this – and I will always remember it… Whatever it is that you need to walk back through… you will survive it. You have a 100% survival rate, thus far. And just like my therapist – or Q – I need a guide sometimes. You do not have to explore the wilderness alone.

WW – joe

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meh update

Soundtrack: A Little Bit Off Today – Five Finger Death Punch

Jun 19 2020

I am a little bit off today. A fitting song for today. I took the day off of work since I had two days left to use before my work anniversary. We cannot carry them over at this place. I got some packing done to get out of the apartment by Jul 01. Yay – win. I also published my next story chapter at 3 AM this morning LOL. I had so many things to redo, probably missed a few still. Maybe that was because I kept dozing off. It is done, regardless. So I am a little tired, probably more sluggish, but a nap may be in the works. We shall see. The weather is perfect for it… humid + rainy + hot. So I think the best way to describe ME, right now, is meh.

Meh. A word that was first introduced to me by the Emoji movie. Which, if I can add, has some comedic parts (imaging the emoji and that they were called “old-timers”), but is really not up there on the cinematic greatness scale. Meh, is described as not happy and not really sad. It is a state of in-between that doesn’t seem to have many words to describe it. For me, it has taken the place of okay. Of course, my other typical line (when asked how I am doing) is “No complaints… well none that are going to get me anywhere.” An answer that doesn’t really address how you actually are or are feeling. After running through repeated answers such as “fair/partly cloudy,” or “blessed,” or “living the dream.” I have found it, however, much simpler to say “meh.” Like a form of onomatopoeia, the word converts the emotion to a sound. Meh gives like to so-so.

I am not going to dive into politics. We are a mess. I am not going to comment on the treatment of people. We are a mess. The news makes me physiologically ill. But I try to remain educated. So I remain a little ill. Everyone seems to be so busy focusing on one angle – that we forget that it’s really… complicated. Terrible things are going on in our world right now. And I feel powerless. If I had power – would that align me with one side vs. another? It’s perplexing to think about all of the IF-THIS-THEN-THAT’s which could take place with the introduction of something as seemingly insignificant as a butterfly effect.

I have spent most of my spare time writing. I have a series, working title Devastation, that I have put most of my creative energy into. I have written things for a long time. Things. A piece of this, or part of that. A poem here… Paragraph there… This one is a layered world where things daisy chain into other things. It is also the most that I have written for one particular piece. Before this series, I had a screenplay that I had completed. It is 100+ pages – but there are far fewer words in a screenplay. It requires different creativity and imagination of the acting that would take place. Trust that the artist would convey the message as you intended but not stifled by the writer’s explicit instruction. The novel is different. While it will be a novel, technically a novella by word count, it requires planning. Rewriting when you need to add something previously to be able to use it at the moment. While the reader has an imagination, I need to paint a picture for their mind to interpret. There is also a part of me that thinks it is escapism. It is nice to develop a character and watch them grow as the story progresses. Or to take a sentence and change the direction. Just. Like. That.

It has been a while since I have just posted outside of the story. I have not been as experimental in the kitchen and I reigned in my side projects for the time being. I have focused my energy so that I can finish strong. Just finishing, will be a success for me. Many people talk about it – but for one reason or another – just do not do it. I am doing it and proud of the way that it is turning out. It is also really nice to know that I have a small audience. And several regular readers say that it is good. No, I am not King, or Grisham, or [insert your fav here]. I am me, with my style and my voice. I will press on if you do not like the story. Finishing is for me. But I will respect your opinion. I will be encouraged if you like it. I will consider your comments. Feedback is such a valuable tool. And to be honest, while I proof each chapter a few times, it is still a draft and has lots of flaws. It’s not book publishing quality yet. Sometimes I have to take my magical story eraser and supercharged pencil and redefine something that was going off the track, and sometimes it started several chapters ago. That can be a lot of erasing. Also, a lot of researching my own story (what did I call that place again? what day is it? what was his name?).

So, in light of the meg, I wanted to send a hello out there. I am still here, glad you are too. Why not try something different today? Take a moment and collect yourself. It is not always selfish to do things for you. Drink that coffee and stare out of the window. Walk outside. What do you see? Go for that walk. Zoom with a friend or family member. It is going to be Father’s Day soon. Take the time to gather your families. Zoom if you must/or FaceTime (or whatever). I wish you all the best.

ww,
joe

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 14)

Continued from chapter 13 of the Devastation Series.

I noticed a car following me as I got to the end of the road, right before I hit the highway. There were several consecutive turns on the way out of my Dad’s neighborhood. The odds of someone hitting the exact sequence of turns as me – at the same time as me – was highly unlikely. The person behind me had their sun visor down and hyper-tint was active, so I could not see them clearly from my seat. I turned around to get a better look at the vehicle as well as the shadowy figure in the driving seat. I still could not make out who it was. I was growing more concerned so I started watching closer. I continued with my music and headed to the cafe not losing focus on the tail-gaiter. I convinced myself that this was just a coincidence and if it was not, I would shake them at the parking lot.

I pulled into the cafe and up to the drive-thru. As I navigated the parking lot I did not see the car behind me. While I waited in line I thought that my hunch must have been true. I made it to the ordering screen and selected a sandwich that called to me. It was one of those heavenly sounds a choir made with a miracle that happened. I also ordered another dirty chai and added a couple of small desserts. I decided that I would take my dad a treat. When I was growing up, a dessert when you were sick, was par for the course, so I thought that I would carry on the tradition. Before dealing with my apparent stalker, I planned on visiting my father before going to wait for groceries. So I asked myself – why not? The order updated on the screen and the total QR code appeared. I scanned the code with my phone and paid for the food digitally. Once the order was processed, I pulled forward – sort of off to the side and waited in a numbered compact stall. I looked around one last time but did not see the car that I believed was following me. I stared out the front window through my hyper-tint and watched birds fly overhead.

The restaurant was slower than normal that day and came out about 15 mins. later. A tall young high school aged kid brought the meal out to me. She had a see-through mask on and smiled wide while delivering the food. I handed her some paper money and I took the order from the carhop’s hands. I opened the order to verify that the contents were correct. I never had issues at that establishment, but had grown accustomed to verifying orders due to experiences elsewhere. I closed the order up to keep it warm and started to place the bag into the passenger seat. Suddenly my passenger door quickly swung open and a figure lunged into the car and right beside of me. I freaked out and dropped the meal bag while I shouted a string of frantic obscenities. My muscles stiffened and went to an instinctive defense strategy. I felt my body repel away from the passenger side and my right arm stiff-armed the figure. My left hand fumbled with the eject button, which I finally hit, and the seatbelt reversed. The passenger was not fighting as I would have expected someone to do if they were planning a crime. Not able to think quickly enough, I started smacking at the door to open it. A female voice loudly overpowered my sporadic movements and sounds. It was from Valerie. “What the F#@K is wrong with you?” I bellowed in scared anger. 
“Gotcha…” She said with sarcasm like nothing was wrong with the situation. We both calmed down and while I was annoyed, my muscles started to relax. My heart raced…
“Seriously Valerie. What is wrong with you? Why in the hell did you stalk me and cause me to nearly s*@# my pants?” I barked back to her.
“Can we talk?” She questioned. I was so baffled at that moment. I struggled to form words. My anxiety was alerted and muscles ached from sudden tenseness. My heart was still thundering in my chest, though. I wanted to push her outside of the car door and at that particular moment, run over her. Twice even…
“Yeah – Valerie – I s’pose we can. Is this how you get people to talk to you? What is wrong with you?” I reiterated.
“Where are you going – may I follow you?” Her tone had changed. Her demeanor was much softer and she was less prickly than the last couple of days. His mannerisms were more welcoming and friendly also. While she did do a crazy thing, she appeared genuine.

The stare-off only lasted for a moment. Several things raced in my mind. I tried to be warming and more welcoming but it was obviously forced at that point. My triggers were dissipating, but not fast enough for the direction of the conversation. “Would you like something to eat?” I asked. After a moment she thought that she would like something. We ended up going back through the drive-thru and I ordered a second sandwich and a side salad. She also asked for a chai coffee, like she had that morning. After paying we drove around to the same parking spot. I was so confused about what was happening at that moment. What changed, I wondered? I started with basic questions – such as where she parked, how long was she following me, and did she plan to abruptly jump in the car like she was going to hijack me. Before I could ask anything else, the orders came out and I checked her order then handed it to her. “I was going to see my dad next – did you want to tag along? While I am f#$*#& pissed off at you – I know you care for him too – and I am going there.” She liked that idea, so we started driving to the hospital. Since she was eating, I took a long way. My appetite had diminished for the moment. I settled on eating at the hospital.

I turned on some modern rock and played it at a medium volume. It was quiet enough that we could talk without shouting – but loud enough that we could not whisper and listen. “Seriously, though, what the hell is wrong with you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow. My voice cracked a little with the question.
“Jake, I am different…” She began.
“You don’t say…” I interrupted with an exaggerated gasp and reaction.
“I have not been very kind to you over the past couple of days.” She confessed.
“Thank you – I thought it was just me…” I cockily replied.
“Sometime, I will share more about me and why I am the way that I am. I didn’t mean to snuff out all of your attempts…” she explained, “… well, I did actually… I… well, I am sorry.”
“Admitting you have a problem is the first step,” I exaggeratedly winked at her.
“Why didn’t you see your dad before now?” She asked.
“Well, that was one of the changes in my life…” I shared and began telling my story of change. I talked about Maggie and not knowing my dad was trying to make contact all along. I explained that he withdrew after mom died and we did grow distant. She seemed aware of some of the stories. I had assumed that the distance with Dad continued to grow and then I had gotten caught up in my life. I started telling her about work – and how I feel like my eyes are being opened. It felt childish. I was sure I lost her somewhere in the story. I started sharing and speaking to her as if it was a lecture. I lost focus on Valerie somewhere along the way and almost day-dreamed as I explored the passions I have been having. My hands danced in front of me as I orchestrated the story of changes in Jake’s existence. Time flew by and before I knew it, we had made it to the hospital. I snapped back to the present and looked over to Valerie. She was looking at me and she had not lost interest. She paid attention the entire time. I smiled and then we got out of the car.

She pulled her PPE back down over her face as we walked towards the main hospital entrance. Even if you didn’t believe in the mask situation, which I guessed that she did not, she was respectful of the belief systems. Plus, it was a requirement, and we were out in public in a place that would get a whole lot more attention. I remembered my ticket and made a note in my phone to handle that. I walked to her left but a few steps behind. “Have you been out to see him… or any time before?” I asked her as we walked under the patient’s entrance awning. 
“Not this time, but every other time.” She replied.
“Every…other time?” I repeated.
“This isn’t his first time, Jake.” She answered back. The way she said it – at that moment – there were so many things that I realized that I did not know. I wanted to know more – but now was not the time to ask. My father would not approve of anyone dwelling over all the things that had gone wrong in his life, or issues that he had faced. Even, with out history, our gap, I was confident that it would still ring true. It was one of those beliefs that would become etched in a person’s core, and there was no changing that.

I motioned at her to follow me as we rounded a corner. I stopped at the elevator and pressed the up button. As we waited for it, I grew impatient not hearing any movement or chimes. I pressed the button a couple more times. After waiting for a few more moments, I pressed up a few more times. Well, until she put her hand over it. “What?” I asked her, looking over in a kid’s curiosity.
“Just relax. It will come down – there is probably a good reason.” She assured me.
“Yeah – like its slow… or maybe the wires are shorted. Or…” I continued on a rant – some sarcasm, some self proclaimed truths. The signal lit and a digital chime occurred as the doors opened. I started to rush in but was abruptly stopped and had to back away. I looked over to Valerie and noted how she had raised an eyebrow at me, as she gazed over the people leaving the elevator, very pleased with herself. A tiny elderly woman and man, both with walkers, scooted and shuffled slowly out the doors. The woman first, then the man creeped out afterward. She called back to him and him up to her like geese flying in the sky confirming their location. I bit my lips and glanced back at Valerie. Nothing needed to be said. I had gotten the message.

After the couple moved out of the way, I inserted my arm inside the door to trip the timer so we could enter. The door jerked back open and I motioned for Valerie to enter first. I selected the floor as the doors closed and we were raised to one of the top floors. “I get it…” I finally said, breaking the silence. She smiled and that was just enough to abide by my guilt. The atmosphere was confusingly different than when I followed her around at the farm. There was warmth in the air and she seemed like a completely different person. I found myself timidly exploring conversation and small talk since the learned reactions from the morning. The door chimed, opened and I followed her out. I pointed and led the way down the hall to Dad’s room.

The lights were still dim in the room and with the sun passing overhead the heat from the windows had subsided. The blankets were messy and items were rearranged on his tray and beside him, compared to my last visit. Dad’s eyes were shut and he has inclined again like he was watching the ceiling. Valerie and I walked inside slowly as to not disturb him. “He looks so peaceful,” Valerie whispered, “…and he is sitting still…” 
“You never see him like this – do you?” I sat down in the chair and began to open up my food packaging. I did not want to wake him and was hungry by that point.
“When I see him…sick – he is usually like this…” She motioned to his position in the bed. 
“How long have you known him?” I muffled out in between bites.
“Since I ran away…” She looked at me and then to Dad, “maybe 10 years?” I knew there were so many more layers to that situation, and I wanted now, to not be that kind of heartfelt time. I nodded with an “ah” and casually moved on to asking about the last time he was ill. Apparently, he had been in and out of the hospital over the past couple of years. Then it hit me, Maggie had become different around my Dad about the same length of time, ago. I wondered if, in her way, she was trying to protect me? I wondered if she did it to spite me – or did she keep it quiet so it was not a hassle to her and our little lives. I could feel a day of reckoning being formed – but I was not ready yet, and certainly not that day. My dad yawned a lion’s yawn and squinted his eyes looking at Valerie. “Val is that you?” He rhetorically asked. He was wonderfully surprised to see both of us. He was also startled by the combination but rolled well with it. 
“I am just eat’n don’t mind me,” I mumbled with tiny chipmunk cheeks. Dad understood and redirected his attention to “Val.”

The sandwich was nourishing and hit all of the hunger spots. The weight tugged at my eyelids, I rubbed my eyes and held off the yawns as I watched and listened. It was as if we were sitting by a campfire and story-time was the activity. Their interactions were like a choreographed skit. He would tell some story and she would laugh, they would both chuckle along and then wait with anticipation while each finished a story. Most of the stories were unfamiliar to me. It was a different life that they talked about. I sat and quietly listened to the reminiscing of how things were done on his or her farm. Several tales started with “One time…” It was cute, and I fell a rush of warmth jolt through my body, it carried some other feeling… like frustration. I rubbed my eyes and dismissed them for the time being. I listened with my feet on the ottoman and slouched into the fluffy pillow-topped chair. I closed my eyes and listened to them for a while until I didn’t hear them anymore.

I startled awake when he slid his dinner tray to the side. “Welcome back – sleepyhead.” Dad said, “I didn’t save you any…” he motioned towards the food with his head.
“Thanks, dad.” I sat up straight in the chair and massaged my hands along my thighs. Valerie looked conversationally exhausted, and Dad had a weighed down look on his face. She was also carrying something she was not before, but I attributed it to my dad’s relentless story telling and debates. His monologues or soapboxes could be quite extensive and would slay even the noblest rhetoric knight. Dad and I also chatted about the farm for a moment. He asked me again, how work was. He also investigated below the surface to ensure that I was “alright.” I shared a small bit in passing, playing it off as nothing. I shared some details about Samuel, my fascination, and that he was in the Midwest somewhere. At least that was where his group headed, considering that he may not be alive any longer. I had not given the thought much light until that moment.

Geared up for the next round, my dad barraged me with questions about what I was reading. He was intrigued by the stories and for quite some time, I felt like I held my own in the self-sustaining worldly conversation. I got lost in rants, and they both just listened as I shared everything that I could think of. My fascinations, the life I was leading, my mess of a life at the moment, and how amazing it felt to be free-er. We continued to chat until the nurse came in for the nightly rounds. I looked down at my watch and it was early evening. I was beside myself with how long I had talked; how long we had conversed. Valerie and I stood and moved out of the way as the nurse ran the AI-Scans. The nurse mentioned the results as they appeared. Elevated this… and that… low oxygen saturation… She pulled the stethoscope from her pocket and placed the sensor over my dad’s chest and lungs. She reached her fingers up to her ear as a natural reaction to ensure there was a seal in her earpiece. I do not think that was needed any longer with the magnification but the instinct remained; just like turning the volume down when looking for an address – even though the AI has been driving us for a really long time.
“Well, it looks like some of your numbers have improved, Jake. How do you feel?”
“You can go ahead and release me – I am ready to get back in there!” He laughed a bit, then coughed.
“Riiiighttt.” She exaggerated with a wink. “But seriously, I do think you need to rest. Your visitors have been here a while – and you need to recover. You can be a talkative one…”
“That’s the thing doc,” I think Dad called everyone doc, in a hospital, “they did heal me.” He affirmed in a serious tone that was no longer the sarcastic glimmer but a deeper story hook. I forced an obvious stretch.
“Yeah dad, you wore me out. Valerie too…” She snapped her head sideways, confused by me. “Can’t you see her dragging self..” I motioned up and down Valerie to make light of the heavy subject matter.
“Oh right…” She hesitantly agreed.

We finished with common pleasantries such as “What are you guys going to do tonight?” Dad asked referencing Valerie and me, together. It was as if we were already best friends and had been spending significant amounts of time together “What do you mean Dad? Us?” I inquired.
“Well, the two of you are here…. together… And when you leave… I guess it will be… together… so I just thought maybe…” Dad trailed off.
“Fair enough. Fair enough.” I nodded with a shrug.
“Well – he isn’t really taking me anywhere…” Valerie said playing up to Dad.
“What is that supposed to me? Fine I will offer you the best value-meal in a two-block radius.” I exclaimed with a small room echo.

We finished up saying our goodbyes and we walked back towards the car. “You don’t have to get a snack with me… y’know.”
“I know.” She replied, “… but I am hungry and you’re offering… and driving.” Of course, she was right – it did make sense. I opened my phone and followed her lead while I scouted something to eat. I was not very hungry but would love the food later. Just then I remembered my delivery window this afternoon. I was going to reschedule… and was now going to miss it. I had to stop walking and dive into the logistics for a few moments. I read the app’s fine print and settings and features. It seemed like I clicked everything but the right thing. Luckily – I discovered that they alert or call before starting. I was relieved that I did not miss my chance. For once, something running behind, in life, benefitted me.

Valerie started to talk and I put my hand to her mask without thinking about it. “Did you just shush me?” She acted offended. I let out a sigh and signaled for one moment.
“I just need to take care of this… I am all over the place right now…” I was slightly frazzled and showing signs of scattering at that moment. I found the link that I was looking for and selected later delivery. Since it was still early in the context of a delivery day, I opted for the latest delivery possible, 10 PM. I apologized up and down to Valerie, then offered a dessert as a bribe. “My life… is just a mess right now…” I confessed, “its… complicated.”
“Well, I have a little time since my ride isn’t leaving for a bit…”

We ended up heading to a nearby cafe. We made it to the car and there in just a few moments. She pretended to be annoyed at me but it was obvious that she exaggerated. We sat at one of the booths off to the side in the restaurant. The room light was glowing and the sun was on the other side of the building. The cool breeze of the enviro-stable circulation sent chills over my arms and hit Valerie too. It was peaceful and a good spot. We were able to take off our masks, and our faces felt the cool air around us. The waiter arrived and stood outside of the controlled zone, an imaginary line that was a barrier. He was slightly difficult to hear in his mask, but we had grown accustomed to “mask-speak.” We both ordered waters, a side salad, and a sandwich off of the menu. I had mine packaged in a to-go container. “So are you going to tell me?” She pressed me for answers while we awaited the meals.
“For…” I motioned for more information, slightly anxious at the table.
“Why are you…so…what did you call it? Scattered?” She cocked her head to the side like a puppy hearing a toy for the first time. I tried to resist but the puppy look sold me. I thought I would have been saved by the meal, but she persuaded me for more, the moment that I would tire or dwindle off. So, I continued talking for the duration of her sandwich and salad. I explained just about everything to her that I had not shared in another rant. I rattled off the great things about Maggie and the things that didn’t work. I showed her the puzzle of me I was re-piecing together. I also went over Samuel and 116. I explained how that had shaped to be a passion project for me. I shared the shady decision at work that had me stressing over what to do – and the trapped feeling that has encapsulated my freedom. There was a small disappointment, like an “oh” but she never shamed me – or judged me. The truth was told, all of it… that I could think of at that moment. I am not sure if it was the confession or just being acknowledged but the relief physiologically shaped me in those moments. I shared how Maggie and I had grown distant but comfortable. My fears for my dad – and regrets of not knowing he tried to reach out. And all of it just kept coming. It was more than she had bargained for but I could not stop. She never missed a beat, to comment in a pause. She remained engaged throughout her meal until the check came.

I paid online and we masked up to leave. I took one last drink of my soda and slid my PPE into place. I carried my meal bag and led the way to where we parked. I opened her door and we both got inside of the car. “Alexa, list the destination’s today,” I called out, watching the navigation pane list stops from the day. “Go to option 3,” Alexa confirmed for me, and then ran the take-off diagnostics. Valerie asked which address was 116, and I shared it with her. She was curious about which part of town it was in. While it was not the best part of town, it had easy access to some of the main roads. It also had the essential outlets. With a pause, I heard music in the background. I turned on modern folk music and we sat quietly listening for the drive back to her car. The drive was both awkward and peaceful. I felt bad for unloading on Valerie, but the chains that were lifted made it all worth it. I knew that I did not upset her. I guessed that the silence was just processing the overshare. That, and we covered a lot of ground. I wondered if we burnt out any friendship, already.

We got back to her car and we agreed to meet up tomorrow late morning to go over the chores at Dad’s. She said the workload would be less than it has been since we did so much Saturday morning, but there were tasks that we should do daily such as a vermin and predator patrol. We did not stay silent through the goodbyes but we were sizing each other up. What was our relationship? I was not ready for a girlfriend and while I found Val attractive, my life felt like it was in shambles, to paraphrase a discussion that I had earlier. I watched her get into her car and waited for her to drive off, then I did the same. I continued the mellow folk playlist that we had started at a much louder volume – and enjoyed the trees passing by. A notification on my phone asked me if I still wished to have the grocery delivery in a couple of hours. I realized how much time passed by in our time together. I accepted the delivery as I was driving home since I would be at the apartment in just a moment. The clouds looked fluffy again and the gray ones in the distance looked like a storm was due in later. I felt like the weather and outside was a version of me at that moment. Storms brewing, but enjoyable for parts.

I got back to the apartment and kicked my shoes across the room. I reheated my to-go bag and grabbed another plate from the cabinet. I pulled the whiskey bottle out of the freezer and carried it like a football with hot food on the other hand. I was feeling carefree and sprawled out on the couch. Taking a load off felt very literal, to me, at that moment. The food tasted like the bag this time but I was hungry and didn’t care. I felt too tired to complain, despite my best efforts and imagination.

After I settled in I opened the journal on the floor beside me and started reading from Samuel’s words. He was discussing a trip and travel at that point in the story. I caught myself in a tangent – what if this was a story? I shook that thought away and refocused on the book. It was the first mention of travel. He had listed several states in a hand-drawn table: Montana, Wyoming, Colorado, and The Dakota’s. Samuel had started to look up the state regulations for living off of the land – what a person could do, could not do, and where would benefit him the most. The momentum was shifting in the journal. The vibe started to feel more action-oriented and less spectator. I continued reading suspecting that he would name an exact spot, but that particular journal only compared and contrasted the information.

My phone chirped when the deliveries were en route to the apartment. I had only done this once before, and I made the drivers wait unintentionally, so I rushed out to the front doors. I thought to myself, “Finally – food!” I walked down to the entrance and waited until a ping “arrived.” I heard a noise overhead and saw a small box being delivered by the largest drone that I had ever seen. I pulled the box from the harnesses and acknowledged delivery on my phone. The delivery driver showed up and parked in a fire lane right as I was done getting situated. He got out of the vehicle and came around the car to hand me two strapped bags to carry. After approving that delivery too, I bumbled my way to the front door of the complex door. With some finesse and a lot of luck, I got everything in without dropping an item. I trotted awkwardly down the hall to the room door and I leaned against it. My luck must have faded because I lost my grip as the door swung upon. The keys were dragged from my hands as the weight of my load forced the door wide open. I stood standing still for a moment and rubbed my face. After a sigh, I made it inside and put everything into a spot, attempting to be somewhat organized. Cold in the fridge, everything else on the counter for the time being with like items together. I felt put together for a moment and had some semblance of normality. I debated just going to bed for the day and enjoying the positive moments that I had for all those hours. Things were bound to change, though. I heard thunder outside and lighting announcing a storm.

My phone rang. I answered, not knowing the number. “Hello?” I asked.
“Hello, this is St. Christopher’s Memorial Hospital, are you Jake McClain, Jr?
“I am…” I acknowledged.
“I am a nurse for your father. Do you have a moment?” She asked. I reluctantly agreed, but it would not have changed the outcome. I listened as she explained that my father had slipped into a coma. The complications of pneumonia and cancer had worn on his body. He was not converting oxygen any longer. Nothing could be done at the moment, other than waiting. The prognosis was not good, but it was too early to tell for certain. No decisions should be made now, the nurse assured me. A doctor had not reviews the AI-Scan/Analysis yet. I thanked the nurse and blindly walked to the couch. How does a person thank someone…

I could not think, or feel anything. Should I go to the hospital? Lighting and a large thunder rolled over the windows. Should I wait at the apartment? I was in a daze and could not think, but I would be fine with a few moments, I assured myself. The whiskey shot was competing with adrenaline at the moment and I felt torn as to what the appropriate action or actions were. I sat on the couch and performed some quick research. Internet searches for medical-related items are never a positive experience. I never learned my lesson, though. All investigation led to the same answer, for now. There was nothing that I could do but wait. I felt that I needed more reassurance – or maybe I missed something that she had said to me in my initial fluster. I called the nurse back and confirmed as many details as I could think of. They recommended for me to try to rest and then come out in the morning. By then, the doctor would likely have reviewed the case info and AI-Analysis. I took another swig from the iced bottle and stared at the ceiling, as I slouched on the couch. I was numb.

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creative writing: devastation. the life after (chapter 13)

Continued from part 12 of the Devastation Series.

The drive back to the apartment was spent listening to music and gazing out of the side window. I was frozen in the driver’s seat with my left arm propped on the steering wheel. My face cocked sideways and chin planted into place. Random life scenes scrolled inside of my head only to be interrupted by sudden bumping from side road potholes. The egg crushing, jarring, and jolting brought me back to the present, but only for a moment. The dark of the night saturated the city streets. I looked to the navigation panel and realized I was only a few minutes away. I grabbed the compostable dinner bag from the passenger seat and rolled it tightly closed.

I slipped the PPE loosely over my face and exited the car. I was not trying to use it, I just wanted to pass any patrols that would circle by. The evening settled into the complex and the moist stale air found its way to my nose through the unsealed mask. I slid it up on my head as I walked down the hallway to the apartment. I had lost my swagger tonight but I did get into the apartment on the first try. Normally, I would flip through the keys, but I had marked them earlier in the day. I contemplated how I could upgrade the entryway to bio-scan locks, but I was stuck for now, considering that the desired update would have been included in the renovation that I skipped.

Skipped. I cheated, I told myself. Several variations played through my head as I settled inside of the entryway. I found a plate after searching a couple cabinets. I pulled the sandwich and fries from the sack and sat the small side salad on the counter. I grabbed a trash bag from the lower sink cabinet and started tossing waste inside. It reminded me that I needed to get some very basic household goods, such as a trash can. I laid the open trash bag down and slid the plate inside the microwave. I pressed the “Intelligent Meal” setting, which auto-detected the food types and tailored the cook to what was being prepped. After a couple of minutes of hearing it unit continuously adjust the microwave signaled complete. I pulled it out and it was perfect.

I popped my shoes off by the door on the way back to the couch. I pulled the coffee table closer and took a bite of the sandwich. Even reheated, the burger was blissful, just like the name indicated. I needed something to drink so I got up and poured a glass of water into a mason jar cup from the cabinet. There were several of those in there, so I wondered if Samuel did canning at some point. Not many people did that with all of the tech today, but it still existed in certain circles. My dad used to tell me of apple orchard visits to can apple sauce or sliced apples for another day. While I was there I opened the fridge and looked to see what was else was in there.

Disappointed in the fridge, I opened the freezer and saw a medium sized bottle of whiskey. I was pleased to find one thing that would be better after sitting for so long, at least that was my theory. It could not have appeared at a better time. The swigs tasted terrible regardless. I finished my meal and took a couple more shots from the bottle. My goal was not to get intoxicated but to take the edge off and fall asleep immediately. It worked, even though I become a little more under the influence than I would have wished. It was not enough to forget things or have a headache the next day and my sips did allow me to sleep deeper that night. I was able to stay asleep and quiet my mind, other than one or two bathroom visit.

I woke up around 4 AM not able to doze back off right away. My body was not used to uninterrupted sleep. So when I did get it, I would often wake up early. Damned if I did or did not, it would have seemed. I opened my phone and scrolled social media sites to avoid thinking about anything significant. I finally gave up and decided to text Valerie just like my dad requested. I opened a new message and selected the contact information that my dad had shared at the hospital. It was a long text for an intro but I didn’t have the luxury of back-and-forth at this time of day.  “Hey, Valerie, it’s Jake, little Jake… That sounds weird. Jake McClain, Jr. My dad, Sr. was admitted to the hospital last night. He told me to text you and I ask if you would be able to check on the place, whatever that means. Valerie – would you be willing and/or able? I know you’re busy. If I need to do something – I am a “city boy” (LOL) but will help. I am rambling now. Let me know please/tx. ” Send.

I dozed back off after watching the ceiling fan blades hypnotically circle around. The dreams did not register in my mind but I was restless during my short naps. I woke when Valerie texted back. It was around 5 AM, and it read: “See you at 5 PM, sharp.” I wondered what she was doing up at that moment. Did she normally wake at this hour? I contemplated getting up but was still worn out from all of the emotional work that I was sailing through. I was just glad that I was able to sleep, when I did, after all that had gone on in the prior day. My alarms started going off around 6 AM. I hit snooze a couple of times and then pulled my phone into focus. I opened Val’s text and sent an acknowledgment. I wondered what that visit was going to look like. I then hit snooze a couple more times until I gave up and in to the day.

I shook off the stiffness and pulled myself out of the couch. Big and obnoxiously fluffy cushions could hide a person if need be. After separating myself, I dressed and grabbed my stuff for the day. I swung by the Coffee Joe’s on the way in and got a coffee called a dirty chai. I added an extra shot of espresso and a couple of ice cubes so that I could enjoy it right away. The coffee was just the thing to perk me up, it turned out. A sweet and smokey bitterness swirled in my mouth with a creamy chai. I looked outside of the window and sipped as Alexa continued to chauffeur me to the office. I did not see the drones. The driverless cars were in the background. The robotics and AI just blended into the scenery. That day, the clouds popped in the sky. Fluffy white swirls of whipped cream in a dessert of blue. The sun stretched along the horizon with a tie-dye of the rainbow-like colors. The birds flew in v-formations and I could almost hear the geese honking. I focused on a tree coming to pass me and saw the lavender flower blooms painting life into the budding greens. I just observed… until I got to work.

I arrived at work around the same time that I always had. I parked in my normal spot and took my normal route to my desk. Yet, nothing felt normal. I felt like there was an elephant in the room – I was sure everyone knew of my wrong doings and only I did not know that they knew. Every look that I received felt like a judgment. Every smile felt condescending. I imagined sneers where there were none and heard whispers under breaths. As I passed my peers, I was sure that they knew something and treated me differently. Of course, no one knew at that time, but paranoia had a way of distorting things. I felt like a celebrity would in a public place, as I walked the halls I felt a need to hide my identity.

I was very focused on another property that I had walked through for renovation when Rob bounced in, and startled me. I was triggered but tried not to appear on edge. “You lucked out there Jakey boy,” He playfully shot out.
“I…I don’t uh – know…” I stammered.
“They must have gotten tired of waiting on you.” He replied.
“Still… lost bud…” I played dumb.
“Someone opted to leave 116 alone – and renovate it later for some strange reason. Must be turning it into an office or something.” He curiously rubbed his chin.
“I guess so…” I said dismissively. I tried to make eye contact.
“Curious…” He emphasized and be-bopped off. I tried to remember that he is generally quirky, but I still watched to make sure he went back to his desk. Several moments passed before I could look away. I anticipated him making some spy-like move, but he never actually did. My ego was telling me stories and I was playing along it would have seemed.

Most of my day went that way. I kept my head down and stuff to myself. I wasn’t eager to share project updates or pose thoughtful questions. I was afraid that any attention would shine a light on something. I realized that I had done something wrong, but it grew from breaking a rule, in my mind, to some larger caper, bank heist, or murder. It consumed me and my attention for the balance of the day. Food didn’t taste the same and some movements triggered a reaction in me. I convinced myself to just stay busy and finished several reports. By the end of the day, I completed a quarter of my entire workload. Sarcasm told me that I should have done wrong sooner. It was nearing 3 PM when I decided to head to the hospital.

Like a bell went off for the races, I slammed my computer into my bag. I placed my mask on my head and slung my backpack over my shoulder. In single stealth-like motion, I exited my office door. I bypassed the main hallway and snuck out of the front. I had started my car from the office so the stabilization would be effective, like an A/C it cooled down the car, but also worked on humidity and sunlight by using hyper-tint. That day was one of the first days that I had needed to use it that season. The air was cool as I stepped inside of the car and more than the temperature relieved me. A person could have felt the sigh I let out if they were next to me. I think it was my guilt – and the fact that there was no way I could repair it without being guilty. I started to moralize it, “It’s not that bad…”

I got to the hospital around 3:30 PM. The lights were low and my dad adrift in his inclined bed; his head sunk into a pillow and his were closed eyes, aimed towards the ceiling. Despite the rest he had been getting, he still wore a tired but enduring face. The television streamed episodes of a show that he had been watching and was continuing the next as I walked in. Since it would enter screensaver mode after an hour or two of inactivity, I thought that he had dozed off shortly before my arrival. I was reassured to when I determined that he had eaten something; I glanced over his bread crust and fruit plus yogurt container. My dad usually checked out and lost his hunger when stressed – so that was a positive sign for the situation.

I tiptoed around his room trying to not disturb him. I picked things up and organized the little piles in the chair and on the dresser next to him. The Gideon’s bible was out and opened to Matthew. I was not sure where he fell on belief anymore but I grew up in a faith-friendly home. Before mom died, we went to church every week and participated in small groups. I cannot remember if it was every week but we always had someone over from church, which is what I remember. My father was very familiar with the lingo, the stories, and the rituals. As I grew older, something changed in me and I drifted away. I was not sure where I stood now but continued being faith-friendly in my life. I just stood in awe of him and walked over beside the bed and stared.

Age cut deep into my father’s face. Wrinkles accented his face like the bold lines in artwork. His high cheekbones glowed in the dull room with the oils from his skin. His hair wavy and gray laying messily on the pillow from his head turns. I gently ran my fingers over his head, and he let out a groan and adjusting his position. His Last Will and Testament was printed on the table and scribbled on. He had written down thoughts that he stumbled upon and wanted to hold on to during his opioid fogs. He still preferred paper for writing most of the time. I pulled his blankets up slightly and tucked him in and talked to him under my breath. I pushed his tray slightly to the side and lowered his bed to a lesser angle.

I sat with him until it was time to meet up with Valerie. I simultaneously hoped he would wake and stay asleep. It was peaceful to see him and realize that the slow deep breaths were a healing journey. I turned the streaming shows to an audio music channel. I grabbed a scrap notepad that he had beside him and scribbled a quick note for when he awoke. “Dad – I stopped by and spent some time with you. You weren’t very talkative LOL. Meeting Valerie shortly. We’ve gotcha covered – just rest. I am going to come back to wear you out. I love you, dad. Jake. 430 PM.” The smell of the fine-tipped Sharpie tickled my nose. My father was broken down to his core… I needed him. Better.

Adjusting my mask after getting strapped into the car, I plugged in my dad’s home address. I selected a jazz station and let the horns, piano, and guitar soothe my anxieties. I took the country way to his home, even though I did not have the time to spare. The long way and wilderness scenery were very aesthetically pleasing and I felt it was needed after leaving the hospital before the meet up with Valerie. I replayed my day to that point and critiqued the details over an over. I beat myself up for the foolish scam that I did at work. I thought of a million things that I should do or should have done: from work to housing situations, to hospital visits and was confident I would add to the list in a short while.

I wondered what Valerie wanted to show me or what help she wanted. I was just some city boy and could not possibly understand their way of life. Like I didn’t go through some christening or right of passage that they went through. I rolled the windows down and stuck my head out of the window. The breeze thick with moisture pressed against my face. I closed my eyes and took it in. The warm air splashed against me with the occasional burst of coolness through different parts of the drive: warm, cool, warm, cool… After a few moments, I crawled back inside the cabin and rolled the windows up. I ran my fingers over my head and tapped on the steering wheel to the beat. I would have made a terrible drummer. I pulled into his driveway slightly late. Valerie’s vehicle was parked with her leaning against it. I parked next to her and I started to put on my PPE then realized that she was not wearing any, so I stopped. I just wanted to fit in at that moment and overcome the awkwardness.

“Hey, Val…” I started.
“What’s the matter with your dad?” She cut me off.
“Well, hello…” I trailed off, “we think he has pneumonia… complications…”
“Oh, the cancer… got it.” She finished for me. She was not being hateful or snarky yet, but it was obvious that she would not cherish the next however-so-long with me. She used her hips to push away from the vehicle as if sending herself down the lane in a swim meet. I walked to the house main door. I started to pull my hand out of my pocket to give my thumbprint to enter when she did it and entered.
“Your dad has asked me to do this a few times. We help each other out.” 
“I see, ok then…” I accepted her answer, she didn’t really need to convince me. 
“Let’s get the gear.” She motioned to a back closet. We walked to the back bedroom, which contained a lot of my dad’s tinkerings, equipment, and storage totes. I had not spent any time in this room aside from walking past it. I looked around, as she opened the closet door. One wall looked like a shrine to our family. It was a wall of older photographs. Several were paired and below those junctions were more photos. My dad had our family tree assembled and I became dazed by the photo of my mother beside my father. It had been years since I had seen images of them side by side. “Take these…” Valerie pulled me back to the present handing me a couple of pairs of working gloves and a very worn, stained dress shirt, which was apparently used to work around the farmette. She placed a work shirt on and slid on the smaller pair of gloves. Her tiny hands filled the finger with room to spare. I squeezed into the larger set then followed her out of the house to the barn.

We did not talk much. Most communication was explanatory and on a need to know basis. Her words seemed to just tell me what I should do to help and seemingly stay out of her way. I got the sense that I was tagging along in some obligatory understanding between her and my dad. I continued to attempt small talk but it was coldly welcomed and flatlined right after being born. I followed her around the farm and continued doing as she instructed. I had wished there was more instruction, like the whys of what we were doing, but accepted our symbiotic situation for now. I watched her and made my own mental notes for later. I realized the research I desired to complete was just compounding between dad and Samuel.

We strolled through the garden and checked the plants and looked for any signs of what she called “vermin.” We grabbed a bucket of grains from the barn and scattered small piles around the chicken’s dwellings. We looked for any predatory signs and pulled eggs from the hen nests and ended up with nearly a dozen. I wondered what my dad did with all of the eggs? Surely he didn’t eat all of them? I took another stab at conversation. “Guess my dad really likes omelets,” I called out snickering. Her eyebrow raised slightly and I swear to this day, a smirk started to form.
“You haven’t spent time here have you, Jake? So much more goes on…” She shot me down.
“You’re right… I see…” And with that gunfire, I tossed the white flag and continued weaving and bobbing for the rest of the chores. I did not know what I had done to her – but it was apparent that I pissed her off in some way, or someone had. We checked the rain barrels, wiped the solar panels, fed the milking cow, and milked her. The pigs were sloppily stinking with joy and grunted as we tossed some overripe apples in and a feed mixture. We walked the small fence-line and checked on the small pond. A few goldfish like fish were at the banks. She reached in a bucket near the dock and launched some pellets across the pond. Envisioning arrows overhead in an ambush, the pellets showered down on the water. As we walked away a couple of splashes followed by a larger gulp as a fish jumped to the surface. “That’s it for today.” She said in an abrupt finishing tone. I trailed behind her back to the house and we sat our gear on the counter inside the door. I assumed we would just use it again if we needed to come back.

We quickly toured the house and checked things like sinks, fridge being shut, and normal routine things. We finished then exited there too and locked the door behind us. Still following her lead, we headed to the cars. “Thanks for showing me around…” I forced perkiness into my voice.
“Meet me tomorrow,” she snapped back, “I’ll check in daily. Well, until he’s on his feet again.”
“Saturday afternoon? Morning? Same time?” I fumbled for words was and off any game that I would have pretended to have. 
“Around 7 AM. That too early for you?” asquint happened in a microsecond as she appeared to read me.
“Ok then…” I said to fill the air. I got into the car and resumed music. I did not even wave to her. While I knew why I was upset – I couldn’t help but go over our conversation. How did I step out on the wrong foot?

I don’t remember making it back to the apartment. It felt as if I was running from some hitman and made it to a safe place. With everything going on – my anxiety had secretly built inside of me. I shut the door and leaned my back into the inside of the door. I focused on my breathing and how I felt exhausted from the burdens that I endured within myself. I settled in for the night around 9 PM and was relieved when I remembered that it was Friday night. I didn’t have to face work tomorrow. I did have to get up earlier than I had hoped, but it was as if I was double dared to do something; I was going to be prompt in the morning. I walked over to the fridge and grabbed the bottle of whiskey. I grabbed a couple pieces of produce from the basket and sat while eating the fruit and vegetable whole. I took a swig and washed it down. “What a hot mess…” I mocked myself. I sat my alarms and finally opened the journal that I thought about so many times earlier in the day. I was swept off with the narration and seeing the parallels between dad and Samuel. I fell asleep shortly after.

I woke around 5 AM and made a small pot of coffee. While I nibbled on the leftover veggies from the prior night, I finished an InstaCo shopping cart. The evolved grocery shopping polled several stores in the proximity of the orderer. The algorithms search for the best combination of deals and prepare micro orders at each location. Mostly, AI, the orders are then staged in a central location and either a drone or delivery driver would bring the order to you. Maggie had introduced me to the service. Once I tried it – I never looked back. Since I was going to be out until much later I scheduled the delivery for late afternoon/ early evening, with the option to pause up until two hours before the time frames. It made shopping manageable for just about anybody.

Before I left the apartment, I placed a to-go order for 2 dirty chai coffees to be picked up en route to dad’s. I finished my cup of coffee and rubbed my eyes. A deep and gregarious yawn echoed off of the walls and I stretched my arms wide. I inhaled a deep breath and forced a sigh out. With my lips pursed my exhale sounded like a steam relief valve. I held the glass bottle of whiskey out in front of my in the room light. I took a small sip of the room temp whiskey and gagged a little. I shook off the disgust and placed it in the freezer. “Je’sus I need to pull it together.” I shook my head at myself.

I blared music in the car. The guitars angrily shred riffs and I pounded on the steering wheel to get motivated while heading Dad’s. I was ahead of schedule until I picked up the coffee which was delayed for some convenient reason and set me back about 10 minutes. I grew disappointed. I felt that my tardiness proved some point that Valerie had associated with me. When I pulled into the driveway it was obvious that the imaginary expectations I assumed were met by confirmations. I stepped out of the car and she shared her opinion right away. “Glad you could make it. I didn’t know if they made alarms in your world.” She fired. 
“No, I just waited for a rooster. He slept in.” It didn’t make as much sense out-loud as it did in my mind. I was about 15 whole minutes late and I had already started to disappoint. Trying to redeem myself, I pulled the medium coffee from the drink holder in the console. I sat mine on top of the car while handing off the other one which was reluctantly received. 
“I don’t do coffee.” She said shooting me down, again. At that moment, I knew it was going to be a long day.

We continued all morning, repeating most of the prior day’s chores but with even fewer interactions. I stopped to rest for a moment by the side of the house. While stretching I explored several thoughts about Valerie, about my dad, about my work, and home situation… I walked over to the table next to the porch and grabbed the coffee that I bought for her. I went into the house, warmed it up, and brought it back out to her, and placed it back on the table. “In case I wear you out…” I tried once again to add some positive humor vibes to the atmosphere but was met with a somber gaze. I was wearing down and opened my phone as a social distraction. “Let’s go,” she stated, starting to move again.

We did that routine for a couple of hours. As we finished each task a new one seemed to spawn; a terrible game of lights out or whack-a-mole. We completed more in-depth versions of yesterday’s tasks and added a few new ones to the mix but with more silence. I still only wanted to understand why we were doing what we were. We prepped the feed buckets and cleaned where we needed to. I swept out the barn which looked like had been neglected for some time. Old Bessie, what I had named the cow, was milked and the chickens produced a couple more eggs. “Smaller omelet today,” I chuckled to myself. I could not decipher if it was confusion or anguish that crossed her brow. The time flew by. We kept mostly busy as I shadowed her and picked up little side tasks. We worked for hours and wrapped up the unspoken list. Day two was soon in the books but it still felt like I was digging a deeper hole in quicksand; I just didn’t understand. That was what bothered me most.

We took off our gear and placed it in the same place as yesterday. I wanted to make it work. All of it. But, I also knew that it was going to be miserable, for me, as well as here I guessed. I picked up my cup and finished my chai, which was lukewarm from sitting by that point. I wiped my forehead with my forearm and took a long deep breath. While I swirled the drink in my mouth over my tongue I dwelled on the awkwardness. Like a brick wall, I could not see past it. It had started to eat away at me. I wondered “what did I do or not do?” I cupped my hands and wiped my face tugging at my lips with my fingers as they rolled off my chin. We shut the door and walked to our cars to each go our separate directions.

By that point, I was brooding maybe even bubbling over. I opened the door and placed my right leg into the floorboard. In a quick and passive-aggressive motion, I turned to her and looked through her. “Listen Val…” I started out. She started to say something and I cut her off… “I do not know what I am doing. I did not grow up on a farm. I wonder what the hell is going on with my dad. I am trying to figure out where I fit in. I have had several things in my life that have change in a very short time. Change isn’t fun. And I know that I am a nuisance – but I am trying to do this. As much as I can without you talking to me. I am watching your every action… And if this wall between us has to do with me, personally, you don’t know anything about me – my passions – my taste – my life… style… And I quite frankly don’t care if you care right now. We do, both however, care for him. If you don’t want to get to know me – fine… So be it – but we are going to work together for a little bit – and it sure as hell will be easier if you would just talk to me. We don’t have to chit-chat and drink coffee, despite the coffee I brought you… But for Christ sakes – be human…” I looked back to the car, got in, and firmly shut the car door. I entered the destination for a small brunch cafe, and Alexa started the trip. I paused the car, rolled down the window, and make one last comment. “It is more chai, a tea, than coffee…” I resumed backing out of the driveway and rolled the window up.

In the distance I could see her take a sip as I slowly exited the driveway. It looked like smile crested her face. A moment of confidence stood me up on the inside, I took some of Maggie out on Valerie. It did feel good to stand my ground and speak out. I headed to the cafe and returned to my shredding guitars.

Read more of the Devastation Series.

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