Requiem

Part II.

The ball rolls.

     Mid May 1997 Adam’s mother Kathy passed away. She had developed breast cancer and it systematically took over her body. Kathy was a fighter though and she slugged it out to the very, very bitter end. At the wake Adam looked more alone than I have ever seen anyone look before. He didn’t have any blood relatives in the area and never connected with his step-father’s family. Adam and Kathy moved to our town from Hawaii where his real father was stationed with the Navy. She married Don who lived across the street from me when Adam was 6. Adam despised his step-father. Don never seemed to be comfortable raising another man’s kids and had a hard time hiding his feelings.
    

     I knelt down in front of Kathy’s casket and fought back tears while I silently said my good-bye. Kathy was my second mom growing up and would have done almost as much for me as my own mother. She would punish Adam and me if we got into trouble up at their camp or at home for that matter. I cried in her arms when my Aunt died and thanked her for bandaging me up after I fell off my bike while cutting through their back yard. Kathy was a selfless woman who truly deserved better cards than the ones dealt her.
    

     Michael and Antonio were also at the wake to pay their respects. The three of us along with Adam stood in the back of the funeral home in silence. Wondering what was next and how things were going to change. As the time came for the three of us to leave Adam alone in the funeral home with his dead mother and faux family we all had the same feeling of uncertainty. We gave Adam our condolences again and walked back into our comfortable lives.
    

     On the way home all I could think of was the look on Adam’s face. He had a far off gaze, as if he couldn’t see anything around him. It was the vacant stare of a person lost in a daydream, scanning the shores of a white sandy beach in the middle of a tropical paradise. I never asked what he was thinking about, but I hoped it was something like that.
    

      A couple of days after the funeral Adam came back to school and finished up the last few weeks before summer break. His distant gaze had been replaced with one of contempt for Don. Adam told me that the day after the funeral his step-father came home a new “friend”. As he told me this all I could think was “God, Kathy’s body isn’t even cold and he is bringing some new woman into her house and her bed?”. What respect I had for Don was smashed into a million disgusted pieces. I could only imagine how Adam felt.
    

     School ended with out much notice. The last few weeks were covered in such a thick layer of blah that when they ended we were too numb to be overly excited. We were just going through the blind motions, much like you do when you tie your shoes.
In the week after we got out for summer break Don moved up to his lake house with his new girlfriend. He said Adam was welcome to come too but could stay home and “play with his little friends” if he wanted to. Adam quickly chose the latter.
     Don sat in his truck and talked to Adam before leaving for the lake. I was in my yard throwing a tennis ball to my dogs acting like I didn’t notice them talking. The two of them danced around each others words, focusing more on not making eye contact than what the other was saying. Their conversation ended with Don backing out the drive way and disappearing down the street. Adam waved for me to come over once Don was out of site.
     It was a hot day for late spring. The wet atmosphere teased the beads of sweat forming in my hair. The sun would almost let the water escape back into the clouds, but the humidity would not allow it. As I passed under Adam’s kitchen window I heard the phone ring and the answering machine pick up. Kathy was still on the message with a cheery voice “Hi, we’re not in right now, so leave a message and we’ll get back to ya”. It gave me a chill that froze me in place for a moment. I shook off the feeling and walked through the back door in search of Adam.
     He was lounging in the living room with a glass of Coke in his hand and a bottle of Bacardi on the floor next to him. I noticed some life back in eyes as I went to the kitchen to grab myself a glass to fix a drink. We had been drunk before, but this was the first time we could do it without a big risk of getting caught. As Adam and I watched T.V. and drank our drinks he told me he felt a weight had been lifted off of him. He talked about Don and his new girlfriend, about Kathy and his excitement about having the house to himself. He got up quickly and made a phone call. I couldn’t hear who he was talking to but knew it was one of two people.
     Adam had just finished telling me Michael and Antonio were on their way when the pair burst through the back door. The four of us sat in the living room not saying a word. The only sound was the ice clinking inside our glasses as we took sips of rum and Coke. Michael broke the silence with two words: “The steps?”

 
     The front steps of the local elementary school were our loitering zone. The cops often chased us from them on many a late night adventure. We made up fresh drinks in some soda bottles and headed out. We passed the time by people watching, talking about girls and making impossible plans for the summer. Soon our parents would start calling us home for dinner. My mom would have chicken and corn on the cob set for me. Michael and Antonio would most likely eat at one of the other’s houses. Adam would go home and take the last zip lock bag of his mom’s homemade macaroni and cheese out of the freezer. Even with slight freezer burn it would be one of the best tasting meals he would have all summer long. Adam never wanted to eat at any of our houses; still we extended an invitation every night.
     That first week passed without much excitement. The four of us were still testing the waters, seeing if our parents would object to us spending so much time in a house void of parental supervision. All I heard from my parents was to be careful and don’t get arrested. I think they knew Adam needed us around, even if it meant they had to relax some of their rules. Don came around every two or three days, so if anything bad was going on it would come to the surface. At least that was our parents rational.

- Rowdy

(c) 2011 WWW.jorgeshome.net

A Breath and A Step

one day the sun is clear

then you blink,

and all the world has gone gray.

was it the words you said?

was it their actions?

a thousand questions all asking

what brought this storm?

but never an answer to satisfy.

nothing feels the same.

you’re cup once running over,

now can’t seem to hold a drop.

simple pleasures are now a mountain to climb.

suddenly all disappears but you’re not blind.

no not at all.

your eyes are slammed with

the greatest hits of your biggest mistakes.

pressure builds and pushes on your spine,

knees about buckle and hope about to leave when -

you breathe.

and breathe again.

and then you breathe and take a step.

swiftly the fog lifts like a light switched on.

and you find the road to be clear.

and you breathe and take a step.

then another breath and another step.

and you put that action on repeat.

and everything slowly falls into place.

and all is never lost so long as you have

a breath and a step left.

(c) Rowdy – jorgeshome.net

Requiem

Part I.

To all things an end.

            The last time I saw Adam he was sitting in back of his step-father’s car on the way to the airport. He was off to board a plane toTennessee to live with his mother’s sister. Adam and I grew up on the same street in a town that was not big enough for stop light but had room for 3 churches, 2 bars and 1 elementary school.

            As I waited in line for my turn to see Adam I looked at pictures from his or more accurately, our childhood that were on poster board and in frames around the room. A Polaroid of Adam and I with our arms over each others shoulders wearing our jet black jean jackets and white high tops caught me by surprise. Suddenly I could remember everything of that day right down to the smell of the late spring air; a mixture of pool chlorine, fresh cut grass and garden mulch.

            I was lost in memory long enough to not notice the people in front of me had moved on. Brought back to reality by an usher gently telling me it was my turn I stepped up and knelt down in front of Adam’s casket. This was not my first encounter with death, but it was the first time I was at a funeral for someone my age, let alone someone that was once my best friend. I tried to think of a prayer to say or poignant quote from a song we had listened to as kids but there was nothing that felt important enough to forever pin to the moment. I bowed my head and thought again of that day in our jean jackets for a few more seconds, got up and joined my friends Michael and Antonio in the back of the room.

            None of us spoke for about 10 minutes as we stood with our backs against the wall, making no movements except to blink and breathe. We just stared at our dead friend knowing that there would be no more adventures.

*          *          *

            We talked about going to a bar to raise a glass to Adam but Antonio had a better idea. Climbing back into Antonio’s car we drove to our hometown. After making a pit stop at the Speedy Shop for a 12 pack of Genny Cream Ale we headed for the recently abandoned little league baseball park.

            Climbing on top of the dugout I caught a faint hint of that spring air. Possibly a  memory and not reality but I didn’t care as I breathed it in deep. The three of us stood on the dugout roof and surveyed the over grown grass and weed infested baseline watching games of years past in our minds. Thinking about our first homerun or turning a double play to close out a pressure cooker of a game. Michael opened a beer and put in on the roof in the middle of the three of us, raised his beer and said a toast to Adam. Antonio and I raised our cans and repeated the toast.

            We stood there drinking and telling every funny story we could think of. During a break in the recollections Michael raised his beer again and simply said “to that summer”. Antonio and I did not have to ask which summer.

By Rowdy

(c) 2011 Rowdy’s Place : Jorgeshome.net