The Ringing Bell

REMINGTON GRAVES

Her mother was bigger than most girl’s mothers. Everyone at school would approach her and ask her if they could come over and play when the day was done. She knew it was their curiosity that inspired the facade of friendship. She would simply say, “yes.”

“Mother, I’m home. I brought another friend with me to play. We are both hungry…is there something we can eat, mom? Did you cook today?”

“Maybe she’s not home.”

“No, she’s home. She’s always here. I have to beg her to leave the house, you don’t understand.”

“I don’t know, maybe she’s busy. Or she might want to be left alone.”

“No, it’s okay. She’s around here somewhere.”

“I should leave.”

“No, don’t go. I’m sure, she’s here somewhere.”

“Gracie, did you call for me?”

“There you are, mom. Patience and I would like to eat something. Is there anything made?”

“Maybe, but I can also put something together quickly for you girls. Sound good?”

“Yes, please, mom, would you?”

“Of course, honey. Anything for my little girl. Hello, Patience, I am Gracie’s mom.”

“Yes, everybody knows who you are.”

“Oh, they do, do they?”

“Oh, I was only saying …well, you’re hard to miss.”

“Like a building? Or a tree?”

“Yes–no, no…I meant, you’re hard to forget.”

“Can we just eat, mother?”

“Hold on, Gracie, I am getting to know your little friend.”

“I didn’t mean anything by–“

“Oh, no offense taken, Patience. I understand completely.”

“You do?”

“Of course I do. What other girl do you know has a pink hippopotamus for a mother?”

“You’re actually the only one, Mrs. Potamios.”

“I know, sweetie, and I want you to know I take no offense from you or the other children when they want to take a closer look.”

“You don’t?”

“Not at all. I enjoy the company. And my little girl should socialize with all the wonderful people this town has to offer.”

“Can we have something to eat now, please, mom?”

“Sure thing, dear. What would you like? There is still some chicken and pasta from last night, which is tasty. But, like I said, I could make something quickly.”

“That sounds good with me, mom. Patience?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t have that. I’m a vegetarian.”

And as they stared at each other in silence, a wasp outside hovered above the yellow rosebush, a line of ants traveled across the street, an emerald-green lollipop melted in the sun atop the sidewalk, and the ringing bell and jingle from the ice cream truck could be heard fading away.

∞

Satisfaction

REMINGTON GRAVES

Ever been in a shitty mood, angry,generally disappointed, sad, not “feeling it”… and or a combination of all those things on top of being sick?

And then all of a sudden…

Enter whiny spaghetti-western winds.

Grey clouds…overcast crumminess…as I drove to the local supermarket. My windshield wipers wouldn’t shut the fuck up–they’ve been that way for a month now. People kept telling me to check the fuses, or to unscrew the relentless wipers. It had been constantly raining, so It would be a bad idea not have them.

Of course everyone has a solution for you as long as it doesn’t involve them helping.

And these people have no idea I am a fervent Nurse With Wound fan. One only need to listen to this band a good ten seconds to understand the connection. Their style lies somewhere between the sounds of a busted television set and beautiful drones, dissonant noises and nonsensical clatter. Yes, at times, the rubbery moan a windshield wiper would make on the ass of a pretty young girl. Or, not as exciting, a simple piece of mundane glass.

As I walked into the supermarket, to purchase the flu medicine my body was crying for, I beheld my boisterous bedhead on the reflection on my car window, and a vicious wave of vanity voided what little confidence I had mustered on the way there.

Run in, run out, I told myself, don’t fuck around with these dorks. Get it, and split.

I grabbed a few things and avoided conversation. I sounded like a busted vacuum cleaner, and didn’t want to cause my throat any more unnecessary pain.

After I paid for my things, I approached the convenient kiosk that stood near the exit.

“Welcome to Starfux, Sir, may I help you?”

I pointed at my throat and gestured a writing hand on paper. How handy, a Starfux inside a supermarket, I thought.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I will get you pen and paper right away,” she said while glancing at my small plastic grocery bag. You have the flu? Well, that makes sense. I’m surprised you’re out here buying that stuff for yourself, you should be resting.”

“Static static,” I said trying to thank her.

“You poor thing! Ha, ha….Let me know if you need anything else. Anything at all,” she said with a glisten on her lip gloss as “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction” kicked on the speakers with its revitalizing power.Funny how good music does that to a man. “Someone should be taking care of you.”

And as I took my hot tea from the counter, I smiled to be polite and wanted to thank her for making me feel like a Rolling Stone, but was glad my voice wasn’t up for it.

I walked out with a different feeling than when I walked in–I was reminded, that even in sickness with an aching body, I am a once-man now a god…

Shit, I thought, this song is far from over.

And if it’s good enough, it might find its audience, someone might push “repeat,” even if, to most people, it might sound like a couple of old windshield wipers.

∞

Alone For The Rest Of The Trip

REMINGTON GRAVES

Gravity had taken her goods, time had stolen her stout, the grey in her hair shimmered in the sun’s stutter in the shadows of endless telephone poles, and she knew less now than she had twenty years before this moment…sitting against a window on a morning train.

The muffled thunder in the tracks traveled from car to car. Swooshing and electric buzzing pushed on in a lulling lacrimosa. Disinfectant-drenched seats welcomed the people who missed the call, an obscene picture of mouths agape waiting for the spoon that would not come, a beckon to deaf ears, a clamor that faded in time in the mind of those who stayed behind.

She reached with her index finger and pressed it against the cool glass. The butterflies adorned the countryside. Children raced after a chocolate Labrador, screaming, waving a stick around, kicking their shoes up into the air. A distant barn sat quiet and still while its faded red paint endured another beating.

“May I sit here, “ asked an old man dressed in grey and white. “I promise, I won’t bite.”

“No, not at all. Please, please sit,” she said delivering a small smile.

“Okay, good. Now your boyfriend isn’t going to come out of that restroom and beat me to a pulp, is he?”

“No boyfriend,” she said raising her eyebrows.

“I find that hard to believe, young lady.”

“Not so young anymore.”

“You are right about that. Nothing ever stays the same does it? Of course, somethings seem to never change.”

“Yes, I think I know what you mean.”

“All the places we could have seen in our time and we simply never got to it.”

“Yes.”

“The things we could have done.”

“…I–“

“Oh, listen to me, rambling. I simply project, child, don’t take it personal.”

“No, I wasn’t…”

“When you’ve seen all the things I have, you get…well…complacent. Nothing shocks you anymore. And you wished it would. You wish something would rattle your cage. But, nothing ever does.”

“Where are you headed?”

“Oh, If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Well, I don’t see why not.”

“Let’s just say, we are headed to the same place.”

“Fair enough.”

“Now, tell me…are you happy?”

“What?”

“Are you happy?”

“What an odd question.”

“Not so odd. It’s a simple question, really.”

“Well,” she said with a long sigh,”I’m as happy as the next gal, I suppose.”

“You don’t sound too happy.”

“I feel blessed to be this happy.”

“You don’t deserve more?”

“Is happiness about deserving?”

“I thought so. Have things changed?”

“I am sorry, I don’t even know your name.”

“My name is Nicholas. And with whom do I have the pleasure?”

“Lilith.”

“Nice to meet you Lilith.”

“You too. How old are you, sorry if that’s a rude question.”

“No, not old at all.”

“Well?”

“I’m old enough to be your grandfather’s grandfather.”

“Ha, ha…oh, you can’t be that old.”

“Sure feels like it sometimes.”

“Tell me about it.”

“It is almost time,” he said fixing his tie and stretching out his neck.

“Your destination?”

“Tell me, Lilith, did you do it all?”

“Do what?”

“The things you wanted.”

“Is this my destination also?” She said with slow alarm.

“I’m afraid it is. I am far too old to deal with trouble. Your comportment is refreshing.”

“I just didn’t think it was going to be this soon.”

“If I had a tall glass of lemonade for every time I heard that.”

“No point in running is there?”

“No, I’m sorry.”

“Okay, do you mind if I look at the butterflies against all that green…alone…for the rest of the trip?”

“Be my guest.”

∞