57 year old Tracy Sonam waited at the bar for 'him' to arrive.She slowly twirled the ice cubes in her Crown Royal on the rocks.She was early.She couldn't stand the anticipation.Didn't want to be late.Wanted one under her belt before 'he' arrived.She wanted a cigarette.
Tracy had quit smoking when her first grandson,Michael David was born...what..in Oh three?But she still craved one.Huh,maybe it was being in a bar.Again.
She took a quick sip.Inwardly,she braced for the fire and brimstone,but it never came.Rather,she embraced the smoothness,and softly exhaled like blowing smoke from a cigarette. Aaaah.
Ghost feelings.Not unlike a lost arm.It made you question what was real.Of course she was thinking of smoking.Of course she was thinking of Pop.Of course she was thinking of 'him'.
Pop was the catharsis.Dying slowly in the nursing home.
Now,of course,she was doing it.
Alzheimer's-the bitch.She leaned over and grabbed Pop's hand."Hi,Pop,"she said as she kissed him on the cheek.His hand instantly squeezed her's in reply.Like an echo.Some part of Pop was in there.Perhaps,just the memory of her voice.Like an echo of a smell.A whiff of car exhaust on a nice spring day always triggered the memory of strolling to elementary school on some far away long ago sunny morning.Gazing into 'his' eyes(or just the thought of doing so),put the same fire in her belly as when 'he' first sexually excited her so so many lifetimes ago.
Ghost feelings.
How much of us was memory.Pop WAS gone.But his ghost was still there.His ghost IS still here.
It boggled the mind.Swiftly,she downed the drink,and asked the cute twenty something for another.He smiled politely,for a half second too long.Which made Tracy smile.
He set the new drink down on top of a new napkin.And smiled again.
It was 'his' sixtieth birthday.And 'he' was going to spend it with her.Her.Not with his family.Not with his kids.Her.
She caught herself in the bar mirror.Would they be making love to each other's ghosts?Could 'he' actually love her with her crowfeet and thinning hair?Did she really see him balding and losing the battle of the bulge,or was it to his 23 year old thin,tanned muscular curly haired ghost?
Another glance in the mirror revealed him coming in through the bar door.'He' stood straight and carried a sense of excitement and ease that she knew he would not totally be able to carry off once
he' had found her.
She took a dangerous unnecessary gulp of her Crown and turned quickly on her bar stool to wave him in.His eyes lit like fire with recognition.A broad smile graced his face from ear to ear.
She immediately returned the volley.
They embraced.And she let herself be haunted.
1 comment:
A quick note on this story...
...my wife.Robyn,always accuses me of writing too personal.While it is true that my 'stuff' does seem to have a semi-autobiographically feel to them,they mostly are always purely fictional.
This story is no exception.The names and places have not been changed to protect the innocent.....it is just a matter of prue fiction.
The idea of the story came about because of my Mother's grave illnesss.She almost died yesterday.
The idea behind this story is not two people hooking up(that is only the catharsis).
The idea behind this is the idea of memory and 'ghost feelings'.I have been thinking of this for quite some time.The sense of smell in human's -unlike our other senses-does not go through an interpretive part of our brain,but into our memory.Scientists say this is because this is a life saving responce.Smoke=fire.sexual arousal,etc.
This made me think just how much of 'us' is our memory...i.e. how much of ourselves is our past experiences?
Was my Alzheimer infected grandfather just an echo response.Was 'he' no longer there?Was it just his decision making processes-a map,so to speak-left alone with out a navigator?
...a ghost?
If so,if memory is such a deep part of 'us' then this could make the present all that more wholesome...
...or better put..holy...
...because I find,in this,something very akin to religion...
...that would make the ending of this story(no matter how else you interpret the rest of it)as a major victory...
...but then,I always was a sucker for a happy ending
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