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C10 - Thursday, After the calm & The Week End That Followed /

{Laurel, Lug and Ed} (War Stories)

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Supreme excellence consists of breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting.

The rest of the day, and the next few to follow, would go by in a flash. As time seems to do when you have a purpose without a deadline.

We cut dead branches over the trails, set up a corral and a temporary stable, pulled bird nests from under the eaves and we even managed to re-stain and shellac the window frames of the lodge.

With a few instructions from Gruncle, Darren took to the chainsaw like a pro.

Later that first night, spent in our new abode, we wrestled Pam's cot up the ladder. She arranged it perpendicular to our bed and watched, until she drifted off. Yet, somehow, we found her, once again, under our covers come morning.

The bus pulled up early on Friday. Paul helped one of the girls put her bags in the side compartment. And he didn't seem at all, pissy. He gave us a nod and followed up the steps. Darren helped the others pack away their gear while Carol joined Suzie checking off the list. They exchanged contacts with us and left side by side. Darren made his way back to the kitchen.

The Greyhound knock off departed. Minus four passengers. With two of those on board embarking on a much different course from which they had started.

A few hours later Nimbuwe showed up and helped Pam load her stuff in his truck. He wasn't even surprised when he saw her trailing a cot up the drive, like a puppy on a leash. We all have our thing. And besides, It wasn't the first time he saw someone with their whole world in their arms either.

A few hours later the cars started rolling in.

The week end had arrived and the lodge was soon packed with couples and families. Most of whom were there for the antique flea market and auction.

We helped set up rooms, make beds and clean the kitchen. We weeded the garden, shored up a rock wall and even built a bridge across a storm shifted stream. It was exhausting work, but well worth the effort.

And the pay off.

A good roof, a full belly, a knowing heart, something worth doing to do. And a few more bucks in the pocket than there was the day before. I was more than happy with the room, work and board. But they insisted.

Three horses arrived, bright and early on Monday. They went right to work nibbling the grass. And shitting. Everywhere.

Marisol taught Emily and I how to ride. I really only needed a refresher but the girl knew so much I just had to pay attention. Darren rode bitch behind her. Scared witless, with a huge smile on his face.

We rode down to The Gen on Wednesday. I was on Rocket, Emily rode Bramble, Darren sat next to Marisol on the wagon pulled by Trixie. I didn't name them. If I had, it would have been, Laurel, Lug and Ed. They weren't the smartest horses in the world but they seemed okay with that.

We stocked up on hay, oats and the lodge's supplies then casually made our way back.

After storing everything away, I took some pictures of Emily, in her jeans, vest and chaps, sans tank top and bra, sitting happily on the Calico, Lug. The horse was actually quite photogenic. He was a bit of a ham though.

The night found us tired, but eager. It was a warm, gentle evening, with a light breeze and more of a late spring scent. That being more floral than winter decay. So we grabbed some blankets and made love in the woods off the front porch.

We were basking in the after effects when Em got melancholy and quiet. It felt like one of those times you should just shut up and be there. So that's exactly what I did. Pulling her a bit closer in a more comfortable hug.

"My mother was killed. When I was six. I saw it happen."

I kissed her head.

"Mmm." She sighed and softened. "We were in town. Shopping I think. I had ice cream. She had just strapped me in and the next thing I knew there was a strange guy in the car, and she was bleeding. He was screaming and…"

She went solemn once more. All I could, do was tighten the embrace.

"He stabbed her and drove. I tried… but he hit me. When I woke up, we were stopped and he was… the fucking piece of shit was raping her… Right in front of me..."

A deep breath.

"Mom saw me wake up and screamed at me to run."

Emily sat up and looked in my face. Her eyes were pools of sadness, anger and frustration. Then she brushed her hand to my face. And bore her gaze into mine.

"She had that same look you did, at the car accident. Like if she could just… not see me hurt… If she could just, find a way to keep me alive, keep me safe."

I hugged her softly and she laid back, putting her head next to mine, staring straight up to the stars.

"He went to grab me and she bit him and hit him, and kicked him and... He started banging her head on the window. She yelled at me to run. And I ran. Screaming at the top of my lungs, in the middle of nowhere. I heard her voice hushing me, guiding me, telling me where to hide. I felt her hugging me and rocking me. Soothing me for what felt like forever. After awhile I heard sirens and loud angry voices. Then I heard her say, you're safe now. But I couldn't move. I was frozen, numb, lost. Then it felt like someone stood me up and I felt myself start walking. It was her touch, her hands moving me. I could hear people talking. Footsteps came closer. I saw the car and her… She told me not too look, but I did... That's why I understood what you were saying about a relative who might have looked like that girl's mom."

"I don't get why people can't believe. Hell sometimes it feels they make up things so they don't have too. Like chemical imbalance of the brain, oxygen deprivation, defense mechanisms or traumatic hallucinations. Suppose that's what it takes to break down that barrier between realms?"

"There does seem to be a thousand times the effort to debunk than there is to prove. But I lived because of her. Whether it was her will or her spirit or my mind being her for me, I don't know, but it was something that was her. Not my 'Healthy Imagination'... Anyway, The cops came and asked if I was hurt. I had no voice. The words were in my head, they wanted to come out, they just didn't. For two years. When they finally came back they were rattled and distorted. Broken."

"I wish you didn't have to go through that. But I'm glad you did and fought your way back. It sucks that there's people out there that harbor that kind of evil, that kind of selfish scumbaggery."

"That's not a word either."

"Probably not."

"It's not far off though."

She adjusted herself so she was speaking right into my neck.

"The cruelest and hardest part was the people afterwards. Everybody changed. They were always reminding me. The pity. The uneasy silences. The questions. I felt ostracized. I got lost in my computer because it didn't ridicule me. There was no, hey look it's Emmmmmmm mmmm emily."

"Kids can be little fucks sometimes."

"Kids?" She propped herself up so I could see her face. "That happened in college. Here too. I'm pretty sure I heard J-Dog refer to me as that. I know I heard him call me the retarded girl. I mean, I know by the time I got out of high school I had wrapped myself up in a fortress, and social interactions were a bad taste in my psyche by then, but I never hurt anyone. Why would you do that? Joe, I gained weight eating my hormones away. I sheltered myself in textbooks and libraries... But I found a love for scripting... The same words, that broke in my mouth, made things happen on the screen. Made them move and live and be beautiful. Like my mother was. Like I wished I could be."

"I caught a glimpse of you the first night. Lost in a world of ones and zeroes. Hunting for a stray bracket or an errant semi-colon. Every time I see you typing away, you get that same intensity. And when you triumph over some little tweak, you shine, and purr-growl."

"Then there's that... One day, there was this guy. He was just sitting on a bench. And then he offered me a hand, his hand. He listened to me. He was comfortable, with himself and me. He let me be me. He shared time with me. He even let me sit with him enjoying my favorite show. I spent more time with him, shared more intimacy with him in hours than I did with some people I've known for years. And then, he kisses the top of my head and… I felt… free. I felt accepted. I felt loved. And I felt like my mother was tucking me in. Right there with him, and it felt like a part of me, had been…"

"Re-united? Like you and he, were always there, together, just idling?"

"Yes... And I felt beautiful, like my mother was. Like I always was. Does that make any sense?"

"When I was a kid. I had asthma. I was allergic to damn near everything. I was probably one more syringe away from being tossed in a bubble. I was pushed outside and marginalized as that weak, skinny kid. It was the playground equivalent of the ancient Greeks taking a sick newborn to the woods to die. I was the target for every kid that had something to prove. The only interaction I had were with those that hit me. Or bullied me. Then I started playing sports. Some, I didn't want to at first but my dad said, 'try a season of them all, find one or two you love'. So I tried out, and even though I was sometimes the last picked, I was never the first or last cut. Even in football. And I found something out about this body I was gifted, It could take a hit, a good hit. It could take that hit and love it, then, get up and give it right back. Harder. It could be hurting real bad and move, right through it. I was the guy, girls dared other girls to kiss. I was the guy that some prick had a girl kiss, because she lost a wager. As a prank. And then had the balls to belittle me, he doesn't want 'trash' in the house, and he pushes me out. And I'm good. I'm walking away. Until he pushes his girlfriend for sticking up for me… When I calmed, everyone was looking at me differently… You ever hear something that goes 'Better they fear you than despise you?'."

"I've heard, 'Better to be feared than loved, if you can not be both.'."

"Machiavelli. The Prince. Good quote. I always new I read a similar sentiment somewhere. But I never connected the dots. I'd take love though, I'm an idiot that way. Thanks."

"Mmmhmm. I'd take love too."

"There's a truth to it though. I didn't mind being feared. Not one bit. It gave me a peace, to find me. One day, a few years later, I'm sitting on a overlook two hundred feet above the river. This same river right here, but further south and a little east. The sun was about to break. The horizon had just started to get that flush. I heard a shuffle of leaves, footsteps on the rock and then there was a body next to me. Just chillin. Both of us were propped up on our elbows, waiting for the world to awaken. The sun rose, not one of the best, but nice enough. I laid back. He laid back. No words, nothing. Time passed and we heard a scream and we both jumped up and ran towards it. Then we hear, pain. And growls. I catch the sight of two coyotes bearing down a trail in our direction. I hear 'The one on the left, is mine' and he bolts. I see a guy, holding his leg, he's ashen with fear and pain. The furry bastard on the right sees me and hauls up, staring. He's boring into me. Sidling his way in closer. Eyeing me up, sizing me, measuring me. Teeth bared. I ask the guy if he's bit. He says no. I relay that to my… partner, for lack of a better term. And my coyote is glaring at me. Testing my resolve.

And all I can think is, 'Okay!!! The trial of a Roman Gladiator it is!!!' and I guess I said it out loud, because the next thing I hear is, 'This is Thursday, where I'm from.'.

And I laughed.

And the coyote that was staring me down, sneering, sizing me up, and muscling his way in, he froze. Then, he started backing away. So I stepped to him and hit him with a stick I didn't even realize I picked up. And he took off, yipping. Then I hear a thud, a yelp and a whimper and number two goes running. My cohort in this... adventure, looks at me curiously and…

Em, we're not 20 miles from Manhattan. There hadn't been coyote's around there in years…

And he says, 'This, I did not expect today.'

Then he went and got the Parkies.

I splinted the guy up, the best I could, and when they had the guy on a travois, we went back to that spot were we started our day. And just sat.

Until I heard. 'Nimbuwe.' and I said 'Nimbuwe to you too.' And he laughed and said, "That's my name, Nimbuwe." And then I laughed and said, 'Joe, nice to meet you.' We shook hands. Went back to a few minutes of silence. And then, these timeless words crossed my ears,

'Joe, Did you ever hear the story of the hyena and the gazelle.'

'Nope. But I have a funny feeling I'm gonna learn something new everyday from now on.'

Then I heard it, the only line that's ever meant shit to me.

'One can only hope'."

She lifted up her leg and traced a semicircular pinkness on her calf, about the size of a fist, "He was going after my next door neighbor's kid. I got that when I kicked him. He never came on our side of the street again."

"So. It's official. We've traded war stories.

"Does that make us, Zoe and Wash? Or Zoe and Mal?"

"I think that makes us Em and Joe."

"I can live with that."

"So can I."

"So where was I?"

"Nimbuwe. First meet."

"Man, it's so nice having the other half of my brain awake. Okay… Twenty six years later, shy a couple months, I was sitting on a bus. There was this girl. Lithely moving through the crowd. She got bumped a few times, but she pushed right on. With an 'excuse me.' Even if it was clearly the other persons fault, or purpose. I watched her interact with the others a bit and I see a gentleness to her eyes and the way her shoulders and face offer answers she can't speak. More to the point, doesn't want to. Then I see her again. Alone, on a bench. She catches me looking, says hi with her eyes, smiles and goes back to her work. A couple minutes later, she's pulling my attention. And there's a silent communication, like we can read each others thoughts and both of them are saying, 'Dear God, please don't make me have to room with, 'The J Dog'…"

"YES. That's…. Hmmmm, Ha. Mmmmhm."

"The next time I see this girl, she's looking out of a window, and the sun is showing me visions. Really wonderful visions. Then she's crossing the floor, slipping into my bed to watch an old TV show. She's warm and she's calm. She smells like honey and apples and myrrh. She's beautiful and sweet and charming. And from the moment she slid next to me, it was like she was always there. Like it was her space, her domain. The night slips away and I'm having a really good dream. And when I wake up, she's over me. Smiling. Claiming… Me. Moving right into her spot. And I feel her warmth in my soul. Then her lips touched mine. And it was like a door, I had seen a hundred thousand times, but never really paid attention to, just opened, and another piece of me finally woke up."

"Mmhmm."