vignette ~ Powerful Memories

The headache was starting. Mark had known it would, so he’d taken three aspirin. It would only hurt for a little bit though, then sputter out. He’d gotten pretty good with the drill. Ought to have, the way things had been going, especially the last six months.

He was a sap, pure and simple. His best friend, Jake, had gotten himself engaged to a pretty high-maintenance chick. Marlie was blonde, good height, nice build, and quick with a quip. Jake said she was the best sex he’d ever had, but that hadn’t kept him from sleeping around.

One night Jake had gone back home to see Sara at her place, supposedly to talk about walking the straight-and-narrow instead of playing the bedroom tag they had enjoyed ever since high school. Regardless of whether they had done any talking or not, they sure had been drinking, and after Jake left around midnight, he managed to wrap himself around the twisted oak tree at Dead Man’s Curve.

What a damn waste! Jake and he had been friends since 6th grade. They’d studied together, played football together, chased after girls together. They’d headed off to college together, but Jake hadn’t been able to stay with it and had dropped out to work for his dad at the hardware store. When Mark had moved to Wichita after graduation, Jake had left their home town of Bentley to room with Mark. They pretty much picked up where they’d left off, although Mark’s salary was a bit more than Jake’s.

Then Jake had met Marlie and things changed overnight. He was serious about her and pretty quickly moved into her place. They got engaged somewhere along the way and a Christmas wedding had been planned.

Several things changed with Jake’s death. Marlie cried the week before the funeral, during the funeral, and for a month after the funeral. When she told Mark that Jake’s child was on-the-way, Mark decided to do the honorable thing and told her he thought they should get married, that he’d be a good father to Jake’s kid.

Marlie had appeared to be surprised by the offer but didn’t think twice about accepting it, and they were married two weeks later. Everything was okay at first, Marlie had stopped crying and seemed happy to be having a family. The sex was okay, but certainly not the best Mark had ever had. Then about four months into the marriage, things seemed to start a downward slide that simply never quit.

Marlie was cranky a lot -- she didn’t feel like straightening up the house, she didn’t feel like cooking, and she didn’t want to be touched. Mark figured it was the pregnancy and tried to do things which would help her, thinking this was just a stage.

But tiny Carla was born with big problems. There was something wrong with her brain and her spine, and she had to have help breathing. She was a beautiful little girl, but her problems were severe and the doctors said she would probably die within the first month.

As it turned out, the poor little thing died after two weeks -- she’d never even left the hospital. Had never gone outside into the beautiful autumn air. Never was held by her father. Because of all the tubes and apparatus, the only thing Mark was allowed to do was to hold her hand, and he tried to get to the hospital every day to do just that.

He decided against a funeral and thought it best to have her cremated. One pretty autumn day with sunny skies and crunchy leaves, he scattered Carla’s ashes on Jake’s grave. It seemed the right thing to do and, as he took a moment to tell Jake about his daughter, he felt a peaceful closure with his friend. Carla’s short existence had touched a deep place in Mark and opened him up to emotions and feelings he’d never known existed.

As for Marlie ... what a selfish, spoiled, impossible bitch. She had refused to visit or even acknowledge the baby and within two days of Carla’s birth had packed up all her things and moved out of the house. On her way out she yelled that she wanted a divorce and he could send the papers to her folks’ place.

Mark had no problem with that. She didn’t begin to be the kind of person he’d want to live with the rest of his life, and he’d gotten divorce proceedings started the very next day. In another couple of weeks she’d be out of his life and good riddance.

And so what a year it had been, at least on a personal level. But he liked his job and seemed to be valued by his boss. He also had inherited a good team from the previous manager, and their efforts were bringing all of them to the attention of the home office. The latest office buzz was that a new project was on the drawing boards and he and his team might be heading it up. That would be great for everyone and would go a long way toward getting his life back on track.

But today had been one of those days in which everything that could go wrong, did. Anna had called in sick for the second day, Bob had eaten something on break that had kept him in the bathroom for 45 minutes so he missed an important conference call, and Verna had accidentally stapled her finger. That in itself wasn’t so bad, but on her way to the closet which had the first-aid kit, she overheard Lucy telling Todd that she had enjoyed his kisses the night before. Oops ... Todd was Verna’s steady.

Verna totally forgot about the first-aid kit, went right over to Lucy’s desk, picked up the Cherry Coke that was sitting there and poured it all over Lucy’s head. Lucy jumped up, shoved Verna back against a file cabinet, then made a huge red mark on Verna’s face with a magic marker as she screamed, “You bitch!” Todd chickened out and ran for his desk, and the women would still be fighting except that Edith, the old secretary who couldn’t be any taller than 4’8”, had marched up and roared a big “STOP IT!” which had left both girls cowering, probably in fear of having their knuckles rapped.

Personally he thought it was funny, and thanked his lucky stars that none of those three were on his team. Although, come to think of it, it would probably be better to have Edith on his team than on the opposite one. He’d have to give that some thought.

When his lunch order came back with the wrong sandwich, and FedEx didn’t show up in time to get his high-priority overnight letter to the airport, that’s when the headache finally kicked in. On days like this he should just give up and go home. Added to that, the weather was supposed to start going straight down the drain.

Thankfully he had a few phone calls which took his mind off his troubles and before he knew it, it was time to close up shop. He grabbed his raincoat, his wide-brimmed felt fedora which he’d taken to wearing in iffy weather, and idly wondered if he still had a Clif Bar in his pocket. He planned to walk home rather than take the bus, even though it was about 30-some blocks, and he might get hungry. He knew the exertion would help ease his stress and the dregs of his headache; maybe the exercise would keep hunger away.

Donning his coat then stepping out of the building, he was surprised to notice the temperature seemed to be in the low 40s. It hadn’t started snowing, but it was in the forecast. And, according to the often-wrong weatherman, it was supposed to be raining right now, which it wasn’t. Thank God it was Friday. He’d sleep in tomorrow without a care as to what was happening outside.

The crowds seemed to thin out as the clouds moved lower, and finally he noticed he could hardly see ahead at all. It had become foggy, like his brain he thought, and he walked on feeling comforted by the closeness. It actually was a little amusing to only be able to see his feet and the sidewalk just about a foot ahead. Walk ... walk ... walk ... curb ... step down ... walk across street ... curb ... step up ... walk ... walk ... walk ... Feeling relaxed, he let his mind just wander. Remembered back to when he was a kid and had been out playing in fog just like this. He had climbed up into his tree house and imagined a great adventure. Later he woke up to hear his dad calling out as he searched in the dark with the old lantern.

Mark’s thoughts wandered on and he didn’t notice that the last time he stepped down off the curb there hadn’t been another step up to a curb. He also didn’t notice when the pavement changed to grass. Lush, thick grass which muffled his footsteps. The fog stayed the same density and, strangely, so did the level of the light, like it was almost dusk, with street lights on.

Finally he realized something was different and he stopped, listened intently, then turned slowly all the way around. “What ... in ... the ... hell?” he said slowly and softly. It was obvious he was no longer on the road to home -- there were no office buildings, no houses, no streets. “This is bizarre,” he whispered.

All of a sudden he heard someone running. He flinched, not sure which way he should go to side-step a foggy crash. Then the running stopped to be replaced by harsh breathing. Instinct told him to remain motionless. He quieted his breathing and imagined himself as still as a rock. A few foot steps ... silence ... a muttered “Damn!” then rapid foot steps again but diminishing in sound.

He remained quiet for a number of minutes before deciding maybe he better get moving. He closed his eyes, mentally felt outward, somehow felt better about a point off to his left, and softly started walking in that direction. His trail occasionally passed a patch of rocks here, a small bush there, uphill here, sloping away there. Then he walked between several large boulders and, on the spur of the moment, stepped aside to curve behind one, finding a low overhang which he could comfortably crouch beneath. It seemed necessary.

Suddenly there were voices -- harsh whisperings, muffled shouts. He couldn’t pick out what they were saying and almost crept out from his sheltered spot when two people walked quickly past. “Hurry up. He’s been here.”

What in the hell could possibly be going on he thought as he listened intently for any information he could gather. But, just as suddenly as they’d turned up, everyone went away. Once again he remained quiet a bit before deciding he should get a move on. But where? It seemed there was no place he could go, especially since he couldn’t see more than two feet in front of his face, without something weird happening.

Drawing on the words of his grandfather, “If you find yourself between a rock and a hard place, take a deep breath, calm yourself, and trust in the Universe,” he relaxed himself totally, took a calming breath, stood, then stepped down the slope in a new direction without looking back.

He had loved spending the summers at his grandfather’s place -- lots of hills and woods, creeks and cliffs, trees and rocks just the right size for a kid to climb over. It had probably encompassed the best series of moments in his whole life. In fact, maybe he should give serious thought to going back there. Maybe even moving back there. His family still owned the place, but he didn’t think anyone was living there now.

He noticed the fog had lifted somewhat -- he could see about ten feet around him. And, wherever he was, it reminded him an awful lot of his grandfather’s place -- lots of trees and underbrush. And it seemed a bit warmer, too. He took off his fedora and stuffed it into his pocket. Gotta love those crushable hats. He’d just about decided to take off his coat and just leave it somewhere when he felt a tingling sensation down his neck, followed by an extreme sense of urgency.

Spying a branch hanging over the path just at the edge of the fog, he started his approach, sprang into the air and caught the smooth-barked branch, swiftly rocked himself back and forth then overhead into a perfect handstand. His feet were together and pointed, his back arched, his chin up. He held the pose, remembering gymnastic competitions from college. Six years he’d been away from it, but it all came back. It was perfect, perf--- ... oh no! His raincoat was slowly slipping down his body, heeding the call of gravity. Shit! But then, somehow, the hem of the coat draped itself gracefully across the branch and pooled to a stop, somehow managing to keep from hanging down. What luck.

That luck was just in time seeing as how three thugs hurried by right then directly beneath the branch. They’d have seen him if they hadn’t been searching the ground. He stilled himself even more, remembering the crowds cheering his pose, his perfect pose of grace and form. The longer he held the pose, utterly without moving, the more they cheered. He could almost hear them.

Until a pervasive sense of evil invaded his consciousness. He almost bobbled his handstand, but forced his mind back to the crowd. On the edge of his awareness the evil drifted by, stopped briefly, then continued on. The crowds roared. His breathing calmed. The evil grew distant. And then was gone.

He held the handstand awhile longer, assessing his surroundings and his intuition, but finding nothing threatening. Flipping himself into a perfect dismount, he held the pose, giving himself points for keeping it all together. It was definitely all tens.

He continued in the direction he’d been going before his gymnastic workout, opposite from where the evil had last been felt, and marveled at how much his surroundings matched his memories of his grandfather’s place.

The fog had lifted even more and he could see lots of hills and trees in all directions. He was headed up a gentle slope when he heard a whine and short bark, coming from just beyond a circle of rocks. He angled that direction since it sounded like a young creature rather than a full-grown threatening one, and soon spied the problem. A puppy had gone exploring and managed to fall into a shallow depression surrounded by rocks. There was no way his short little legs could get him out and between whining and wagging his tail like he wanted it to come off, he appealed to Mark with every quivering bit of his body.

“Hey, little guy. Where’d you come from, huh?” He reached down and managed to grasp the wiggly little body. “How long have you been out here? You’re probably hungry, aren’t you?” A happy and excited tongue licked all over his face before he found the Clif Bar. He broke off a piece and offered it to the pup who wolfed it down without even sniffing. “Okay, okay, let’s take it slow.” He sat down on a broad rock and fed little bites to the dog, wishing he had some water for himself as well as the pup.

“We’re just going to have to find some water, which probably shouldn’t be too hard in this crazy mixed-up place wherever we are. Come on.” He held the puppy in his arms and started off. He knew there wasn’t a creek the way he’d come so maybe he could see something from the top of the hill. By the time he got to the ridge, the fog was completely gone, the sun was shining like it was noon, and he felt better than he’d felt in years.

He looked all around and there, at the bottom of the slope, the trees widened out into a lovely valley complete with meandering creek. “That’s it fella, let’s go.” He started downhill and had gotten about a third of the way when the puppy started wiggling like crazy. “Hey, gotta go, huh?” Mark set him down on the ground and the puppy went right over to a short bush, did his business, and walked back with what Mark would have sworn was a self-satisfied grin. Then he tossed his ears and bounded ahead, tripping over his big paws and planting a facer before picking himself up and bustling off to repeat the performance about every five feet. It was hilarious and heart-warming, and all the problems Mark had ever had just disappeared.

They continued down the slope when all of a sudden he noticed something down by the creek. Stopping and squinting to get a better look, he decided it was a woman. He watched as she twirled around and around, finally tripping herself to lie in the grass. Just like the puppy he thought as he started walking again. And just where did he go was Mark’s last thought before he tangled his foot on a root and tripped headlong down the hill, coshing his head against a rock as he knocked himself into blackness.