Tagged: flash fiction
I Heard That His Face Was Blue
“I heard that his face was blue.”
“I heard that he still had a faint pulse, so they tried CPR on him for a long time. It’s all about oxygen in the brain. Doesn’t matter if there’s a pulse if the brain’s been deprived of it for that long.”
Any teacher looking toward the boys during the passing period could tell by their enhanced self-awareness that none of them possessed tools capable of handling the news. As if bound by tacit consent, each of them did their part to keep the silence–the sadness–at bay.
“His parents were the first to see him in the tree early this morning. Can you imagine it?” the boy asked, almost forgetting to avoid silence. “Knowing that,” the boy stumbled to resume, “knowing that while you were sleeping in your bed, right outside your window your child was…” the boy couldn’t say it.
“I’ll tell you something. His brother, Josh, is probably the reason I began lifting weights,” another interrupted in an attempt to lighten the mood. Attentive and curious eyes rewarded his move. “Seriously. I remember in gym, in 7th or 8th grade, that a girl was in awe upon, at her request, seeing his flexed bicep. She had such a big smile.”
Their acceptance of a prolonged silence told him they were happy to hear more of this odd revelation.
“Yep. I remember going home and flexing. I was so ashamed. He wasn’t much stronger than me, but compared to the sphere sitting between his elbow and shoulder, mine was like a straw. In that moment, I knew what I had to do if I wanted a girl’s attention.”
They shook their heads in disbelief at his confession, so he continued.
“Of course, if we were to replay the situation today, he’d look puny. On that day the big difference between he and I was that he was flexing incorrectly, his arm bent all the way, while I was already using a more proper pose, arm bent at ninety degrees,” he modeled to an approving audience. Dropping his arm, he concluded, “But she didn’t know any of that. And without her, without that smile, I can’t say for sure that I would’ve ever picked up a weight.”
“Great story man,” one of them voiced, lighting laughter’s fuse.
“Give me a break! It’s just a memory I had,” he answered, smiling as they shuffled off to their classes.
My Living Room Came To Life
“I don’t think you understand. My living room came to life. I can only interpret this to mean that my will, my hopes, my desires–that I–manifest the future,” Pete told his friend.
Given that Pete, like any man, has an impressive streak of riding high on life at times, we should note that his claim isn’t quite unfounded. Before explaining his claim’s seeming impossibility, we must first denote 2012’s sublime specimen of synchronicity. Back in 1989, as a mere child of eight our hero saw the film Top Gun. You know, the movie starring Tom Cruise that pretty much did recruiter’s jobs for them ever since? Yeah, that Top Gun. He then went on to become a military pilot. While serving as a pilot, he was a member of a squadron which had an unofficial theme song. The theme song was Bon Jovi’s Wanted Dead or Alive. Here’s the kicker. In 2012, Tom Cruise starred in a film called Rock of Ages (which unlike Top Gun did not inspire anyone) in which he (TC) sings Wanted Dead or Alive. Think about that for a second. Coincidence or not, that’s some seriously Mufasa C-O-L shit.
Back to our story…
“No Pete, I do understand. I just don’t think it’s more than a coincidence. I don’t think there is any hidden meaning. I can’t believe I’m even acknowledging the idea that you control the future, but I am, and you don’t,” the Debbie-downer replied.
“You can’t tell me it’s just coincidence. When people walk into this place what do they see first? Metallica hanging on the wall. Then they notice the beautifully 670lb Steinway and Sons grand piano,” Pete said, taking a breath that signaled that he was not going down without a fight. “And last night, for all the world to see, Metallica and a Steinway and Sons piano performed together on the same stage! How many people have Steinway and Metallica in the same room?” he asked, using hand motions to bolster his claim. “How many? Maybe 3. Maybe 20. But I’m one of them,” he said, his crescendo one self-assessment away from its peak. “Man, I feel good right now!”
“Yes Pete. And did you notice that you have a globe of Earth in the room too? And the performance happened on Earth!” his friend mocked. Continuing, he said, “And there are lights in this room! And the concert had lights!” Pete was no longer smiling. “And we’re in a room. And they performed in a room!”
“Go to hell.”
“And there are people in this room…”
Bright
He always chuckled to himself on the mornings that he forgot to turn on the lights. Freshly shaved, he’d come out of the bathroom and see her eating in the dark.
She always answered “good” when asked her state of being, no matter the level of light, and this morning was no different. After breakfast she began playing with her dolls in her normal talkative way.
“Okay. I’m just going to brush my teeth and we’ll be ready to go,” he explained.
“Okay,” she responded.
As he turned the water off and reached for the towel he noticed she wasn’t talking anymore.
“Hey. You okay? How come you’re not talking anymore?” he asked, walking by her, still gathering everything together.
“I don’t want to brush my teeth daddy,” she confessed.
“Well, well, well,” he laughed. “And you might have gotten out of it if you didn’t say anything. Think about that for next time. For now, let’s go brush your teeth.”
First Day Back
“The sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and there is work to be done. Man! It’s good to be back,” our protagonist thought to himself as he walked towards his work buddies. For them the day wasn’t much different than any other, but when they saw him walking up, smiles became the expression of the day.
“Hey buddy! There you are. This place hasn’t been the same without you. Where ‘ve you been?” they all clamored.
“Oh, you know,” he laughed as a sheepish grin and a lack of eye contact proved that it really was him.
In no time the guys had broken off into two-man teams and began tackling their work. His first three customers tipped. As much as he wished to conceal his joy, his eyes betrayed him. We all could tell the joy he felt came from deep within. It wasn’t until we subdued him with a prolonged peppering of questions that we learned that the light that we saw was his body’s way of saying, “Wow. This is so much better than jail. I’m never going back.”
The trouble was after work his mind wandered.
So I’m Not Allowed To Text Her Back?
“So I’m not allowed to text her back?”
“No!” they said in unison.
“Look. It sucks, okay? I know it does. But you screwed up. You sent her seven–that’s SEVEN–texts without her responding. You freaked her out. Then she stood you up–twice. The only way you’ll know she’s not just stringing you along is if you wait for her to really try to set up a date. If you answer her text now, you’re just playing into her crazy hands,” his friend explained.
“I just don’t get it. You don’t know how she talked, what she said. How does this make any sense? I only texted her that night because we had scheduled a phone call and she didn’t call and it was late. Explain to me how I am in the wrong for letting her know I was worried?” he said, still hurting.
“Listen. You’ve only talked to this girl for a few days. Days! It sounds like the situation looked promising, but the girl also sounds crazy. No one in their right mind talks to people how you tell me she talked to you. That she has stopped talking to you, taken together with the fact that her last text to you demonstrates she can’t tell what day she received a text on illustrates that something fishy is going on. You have to see that, don’t you?” his brother said, chiming in.
“I guess. It’s just that I’ve never really felt this way before. And her voice. If you could just hear her accent… I’m telling you, these things can’t be faked. I need to talk to her again. But you’re telling me I can’t. She texted me just now. Out of the blue. Doesn’t that mean something? I just don’t understand why I can’t text her back,” he cried out.
“You’re right. I don’t understand either. I don’t. I don’t understand the whole situation. I don’t understand women. What is the deal? I mean, we’re smart enough. We should be able to figure them out.”
The three single men were enveloped by a profound silence–a necessary silence if they were to hear the cracking of that sentiment’s foundation. Their smiles and laughter confirmed that they heard it indeed.
Hatu
The special operations warriors segregated themselves from the rest of the soldiers in the DFAC. “Deefak” is how everyone referred to the dining facility–the chow hall. After only a matter of days in-country, it became apparent to all how to distinguish those who worked inside “the fence” from those who worked outside “the fence”. These men worked outside the fence. They weren’t necessarily more dedicated, or smarter, but they had always wanted to do what they were doing and happened to be good at it. And they were dedicated. And they were smart.
On the ceiling of the DFAC hung flags. There were flags of the different nations of the world that were in the coalition of forces, and flags of the 50 states.
Suddenly, after a break in the conversation, one of the men spoke up.
“Hatu. Huh, where’s that country? It sounds familiar, but I can’t seem to place it. South America? Africa?” he asked.
“Definitely Africa,” chimed in one of the men more respected for his book knowledge.
“I don’t know,” said another.
“It doesn’t have an African ring to it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was in South America,” challenged a third.
Without the internet at their fingertips, the hard men were left with all the nuances of communication to determine who to believe–conviction in the voice, the tone of voice, facial expressions, and look of the eyes. Lastly, all waited to see if somebody would wager that they were correct. No one was so bold.
At last, all eyes found themselves gazing at the flag, trying to look for clues. The stocky mustached reader finally broke the silence.
“Hatu. Ha. Morons. It’s not Hatu, it’s Utah. You just read it from the back side of the flag.”
In all caps, it was an easy mistake we suppose, but one that silenced this proud group of men for some time.
Relapses Were Inevitable
“Relapses were inevitable,” he told himself. Everyone knew this, and he figured people would understand. It was only his inner circle that knew he was an addict anyhow.
And as much as he wanted to point a finger at her for causing the relapse, he couldn’t blame her. He wanted to. But he wouldn’t. She just wanted to have fun. What did she know?
He also wanted to blame work. Why did they have to give him two days off in a row? And in the winter? It’s like they had set him up for failure.
He had been clean for nine years. Nine years. Of course he missed it every single one of those days. Technically, he still was on the wagon. “Technically. Ha!” he laughed. He knew all about technically. No, he had fallen off the wagon–no “technically” about it.
It did feel amazing though. The rush. He could sense his blood flowing throughout his body as if it was reporting constantly that the journey was amazing–all while surrounded by a crowd of people. Wow. Naturally, he hid his high from everyone, avoiding any unwanted judgement, though deep down he knew that they all saw a man who was trying to pretend like he wasn’t high.
His primary thought then turned to money. Like any addiction, his had a price, and an expensive one at that. “Yep, I know it’s shameful, but I’ll just ask my parents for the money. Flat out. No lying this time. I’m just going to tell them what it’s for and if they love me, they’ll understand and help me,” he reasoned.
“Hello?” said the voice on the other end of the call.
“Mom, it’s me.”
“Are you alright?”
“Sure, yeah. Well, no. That’s what I’m calling about,” he said, forcing an undignified voice.
“What is it? You know I hate when you call like this.”
“You know how I took H-, your granddaughter who misses you very much, to the mountains yesterday to go tubing? Well, I saw people skiing and I couldn’t control myself. I need money to ski. The season’s nearly a quarter over, so it shouldn’t be too much, and of course you and dad are invited to come out and ski with me any time you want as well. Ballpark figure, I think that only $2000 should cover me, equipment and all.”
He waited.
“Mom? You there?” he asked, looking at the screen only to see the call had ended. “I can’t believe she hung up. She never did love me. I guess I should’ve seen this coming. I don’t know why I punish myself. I should have just called the ol’ softy first anyhow. Besides being a true believer, everyone knows the man can’t say no to anyone.”
“Dad. Father. How’s it going? Are the Cubs still looking strong next season? Say, I’ve got this favor to ask…”
Good Thing No One Else Was Listening
“Merry Christmas,” he said, walking into her room.
“Daddy,” she began, “you know what? I heard Santa last night.”
“I did, too,” he confirmed. “Let’s go see if he brought any presents.”
She led the way to the tree and let out a giggle before she reported her findings.
“I wanna open this one,” she said, pointing to the biggest present.
“Actually, it’s better if we start with the gifts from relatives. Then you can open the gifts from Santa. Is that a deal?” he offered.
“Deal,” she agreed.
“Okay then. Let’s start with Uncle Sam’s gift. What do you think he gave you?” he asked.
She struggled with the bow until, at last, it relented, at which point she lifted the heavier than expected box. She sensed a liquid inside, and like any American child, guessed with more excitement than adults have the capacity to fake, “Is it…wah-der?!”
“Yes child, it’s water. The one thing in life you’ll never be without due to your ‘kul-cherr and hair-i-tij’. Sam waited all year to surprise you with this once in a lifetime gift,” he laughed to himself, head shaking.
“I don’t know,” he answered, “why don’t you open it and find out?”
Idiotic Embarassing Weakness
“I’m David,” the guy said, extending his hand.
“Pete.”
His handshake was firm, and while the whole situation caught him by surprise, he was glad it was over. He had always wondered what it would be like to meet the ex’s boyfriend. No big thing. In a way he was almost glad to see that she’d latched on to someone else. Maybe there’d be a day when he’d finally be done paying her way.
The next time he saw the two of them, Pete noticed nicely wrapped presents under a well-placed Christmas tree. Seemed like a lot considering Santa hadn’t come yet.
“Whatever,” he thought, brushing off any emotions.
Perhaps it was the monotonous sound of the shovel against the concrete, but a curious thought formed. Standing still, the shovel parallel to the ground, he thought, “Wasn’t her long-lost love named David?” Thinking back to the news video she showed him of this David on the computer screen in his parent’s basement years ago, he instantly flew into a rage. “You gotta be shitting me. No way. I can’t believe it. She’s back with the guy that didn’t take her with the first time around. What the fuck?
“Why would she ever marry another man and have a child with him if all this time she just wanted this other guy? Holy hell. I have never felt so used in my entire life. It’s like I’m slowly becoming white-trash because I met one person,” he thought, as a feeling of madness encroached.
“I can’t wonder on this one; I have to know for sure.”
He pulled his glove off, and took his phone out of his pocket. Looking around to make sure no one saw him texting-while-shoveling, he shot her a quick inquiring text, “Is that David the ol’ PJ, love of your life David?”
Trying to calm himself through work, he found snow-removal’s singularity only accelerated his passions.
“It all makes sense. She didn’t work a day during the marriage. And from what I remember this guy is not one to want for money. Here I am essentially working two jobs to pay her off and stay out of debt that should have never accrued, and she’s living the high-life with an old fling. Are they living together? She better not be planning to do something stupid like move out of Denver. There are things I can take, and things I can’t. I’m not fighting a woman for my child because she’s a gold-digging, lazy, negative louse. Her and her folks. The whole clingy, enabling lot of them can join in a chorus of ‘blood’s thicker ‘n mud’–I’ll stick with right action.
“Surely she’s responded by now.” He checked his phone. “Nope. Why not? I know they’re awake. The little girl can’t sleep past 7:30 for anything. I should’ve seen this coming. I’d always heard about women, and yet I thought I was smarter than other men. So much for that. Should’ve never spent a day with that girl. My God, what have I done? It’s like crazy Charlie Sheen said, ‘You don’t pay a prostitute for sex, you pay her to leave.’ Isn’t that turning out to be the truth?”
He anxiously checked his phone again.
“At last a text!” he muttered. It was just the library letting him know the book he ordered had arrived.
“Come on woman.”
Now inside, his warming fingers checked the device again. Finally she responded. Her text was beautiful for its simplicity: “No.”
“Perhaps she’s not entirely an evil succubus,” he thought, his relief more acute than his shame.
Relief
And with that they were out the door.
As usual, she ran to the car, and verbalized her victory upon touching the driver’s side passenger door–her door. He simply shook his head and said, “Yep. Looks like you beat me again.” He opened his door, placed everything in the car and started it. Then he opened her door and put her in her car seat.
Getting back into the driver’s seat, he backed the car out of the garage. Next, he put the car in park and got out. The recent week of sub-freezing temperatures took their toll on the garage door opener, so he was forced to use more than just his finger muscles to open and close the garage. In a jiff, he was back in the car and they were on their way.
At the daycare, he grabbed her nap stuff from the front seat and told her she could start unbuckling and get out. Like always, she seemed to not hear this command, and he was at her door before she could comply. She happily dropped down to the cement, and reminded him about the dangers of walking on ice.
Leaving her with the teacher, he walked out of the building briskly. He had time, but never liked the feeling of being rushed. There was something rewarding about getting to work early enough to be able to sit in the car for a moment before going in.
He pulled into the parking garage, and turned off the car. Reaching for his lunch, he nearly jumped.
“MOTHER EFFER!” he shouted. “GOD DANG IT! I know I grabbed it this morning.”
His mind raced to figure out what he would eat for lunch now that he had discovered he left his on the counter.
Walking past the passenger door, his peripheral vision picked up on a grocery sack which looked awfully similar to the ones he packed his lunches in. Turning for confirmation, a shudder of relief almost knocked him off his feet.
“I knew I didn’t forget it,” he said, impressed at his ability to believe a lie.
Captain’s Log 