Volume 44 - No. 32
August 14, 2014
by Barbara L. Miller
"Every day about dusk, Charlie disappears. I guess he just needs to get away for a while." Phyllis spoke, not really to Martie, her visitor. She halfwhispered it to the windowpane, half to herself. "You want some cinnamon toast, Martie?" she asked. Sure, Martie would have some. Absently, Phyllis picked up her thoughts and placed them at random around the tiny kitchen.
"He keeps more and more to himself since Eddie died," she said into the breadbox, pulling out the loaf. "He clammed up and wouldn't talk for days on end," she spoke softly to the butter dish.
Cricket songs filled the quiet spaces Phyllis left while she was thinking about what to say next. Cicadas high up in the elms sawed into the summer air, somehow dividing earth from sky. "I asked him once where it was he went every day. He just said it was no place special." She spoke, staring into the red strawberry shaped sugar bowl. Dusting the browned toast with cinnamon, she sighed into her hands. "I know he hurts, but he won't admit it."
A tear slid silently down Phyllis' rough, tanned cheek. "I guess he thinks I don't hurt, because I don't let on." She tried to take a bite of toast, but the salty rush had begun. Tears glistened on her face, but not a sound did she make. Martie reached over and touched her friend's arm. Phyllis wiped her cheek and blew her nose. End of feeling sorry for herself, right now! "Neither of us lets on," she whispered. "That's just the way we are."
Eddie had come to Charlie and Phyllis when they were in their forties, a squawling Isaacchild. He brought spark into the old farmhouse and life to the dreary rooms. They became young again, at least in their hearts. The day Eddie drowned in the canal uptown, nobody blamed Charlie except himself. You know how kids are, they The Paper - 760.747.7119
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all said. Get away before you turn around. Charlie had taken him uptown to chat with the boys at the feed store. A stoney faced Charlie returned home without his three-yearold joy and all the spark went out for good.
Every night now since the funeral, Charlie went out alone to the pea size, wind swept cemetery to watch the stars come up in the deep Illinois sky. "That bright one, up so high, that's you, Eddie. The brightest of all. The best." And, he wept his own silent weeping, not even hearing himself. He'd go home then to the still form of his wife and they would lie there, back to back, both dying inside for want of comfort. More dead than Eddie, in a lot of ways.
When Phyllis first got the notion to follow Charlie, she mused, "I'll just stay far enough behind so he won't see me." That same morning, Charlie had gone uptown to listen to the news of the day. It turned
out to be the same old chatter and he grew restless. He decided to stroll down the main drag. Before long, he stopped at the window of the five and dime. He stopped beside two small children and a young mother, plainly dressed. "We just don't have money for toys today, honeys. Maybe another time." All three of them stared into the window filled with story books, pinwheels, dolls and other toys. A sudden burst of compassion pushed Charlie closer. "Which one of them jack-dazzles do you like best?" he asked. They were all startled, even Charlie himself. "Beg pardon, Ma'am. I don't mean any harm."
"I like the pinwheels," piped up the girl. "Kenny likes them too!" Before the mother could protest, he went in and bought the two brightest pinwheels in the place. The girl was delighted, and blew little puffs of air at hers to set it spinning. The boy turned away and refused his. "He doesn't play much with toys," said the mother. "Just lives there in his own world. But, thanks very much,
The Healing Continued on Page 2
anyway."
"Thanks very much, anyway," echoed the little girl. Charlie walked away with the pinwheel spinning in his big, rough hand.
That night, he had walked a long way before Phyllis guessed his destination. Watching him approach the cemetery, she felt remorse. The one time she'd been out there was on Memorial Day, and it nearly killed her to do that. Now, she gazed in silence as Charlie sat staring into the endless sky, that Great God's galaxy, where someday we might all go and join Eddie in the stars. After a few minutes, Charlie opened a paper sack and pulled out the shiny object. He blew puffs of air into it, then placed it in front of Eddie's stone. "Eddie," he murmured, "This here jim-crack is for you. You would have liked it if..." His voice began to trail away. He watched the pinwheel dancing in its own joyous way. Then he