Post by kris1907 on Aug 22, 2006 16:03:32 GMT -5
No More Regrets
A swift morning jog, does a body good, right? Or so the doc has been lecturing me. Always wonder if he lectures everybody as routine or if he truly feels that I need to move my fat ass around a bit more. Having just a few problems believing this because it gets moved a hell of a lot – and I use to work out often - haven’t been out of it that long to totally fall out of shape. Plus business keeps me moving. Not too many couch sitting days. Not too many bags of chips while couch sitting.
Yet, I’m out running. One week after the lecture I am out here running. Must mean I know deep down I’ve had one or two bags too many these last couple months. Fearful that I won’t fit in a single plane seat anymore, if my ass gets any larger. Would make running after them harder, that’s for sure. Need to learn how to be more on time.
So why today? Not really sure. Use to jog daily. Same path. Same time. With the same omelet at the end. Was a religious thing before work each day. Friends would show up along the path to chat or catch me if something had come up and even occasionally a certain blonde would come out and play. Never a pleasant thing for her. Always took a little bit a blackmailing. Always swore she hated to run but never seemed to mind it much once we began to move. Chat about life and joke about the people sitting around staring at us, looking gorgeous in all our sweaty, unkempt manner.
Man, it’s those types of things that I miss the most.
Then at the end, like the end of every run in Salem, Aunt Mav’s Breakfast for all hours diner. “Cheese eggs, butter and traditional black coffee. Nothing fancy.” I’m mocking her. She isn’t even present and I am mocking her. And out loud even! Pathetic how trivial things are remembered. Can’t recall what I ate last Monday while having dinner with Dave and yet, I remember her eggs from days gone by. Just been so long since I’ve done this. Yet, I can remember the fact that she wore orange Nike shorts on our last run together. My last run period.
That day had been hot. Shit, was it ever hot. The walk to the car alone created a sweat. I arrived at the beginning to see her pull up next to me. Totally forgot I had invited her. Not like me to forget but God, that week had been shitty. Everything went wrong. With everything going on with her and Roman and myself, I was already overloaded and Sami and Eric had ‘run away,’ so to speak, to my place again. That never went over well. With my job switch, well I just hated my job in the beginning. Loved being a cop and then that was just taken out from underneath me and my business partners wanted my full attention then. Should have said ‘fuck you’ back then- kept all that under control. It all just got out of hand. Who knew my job would end up running my life.
Well, I guess it’s not like I really had that much of a life to worry about.
But it had just been a horrible week. Things were falling apart daily and being removed from the cop shop, I thought at the time, was the final straw. So I needed to run. So I invited my running partner along. I didn’t really expect her to say yes and I never really thought she would show up. We had run into each other in Salem Square, got into the small talk and it came out as a polite offer, rather than a serious one.
Orange shorts and a white t-shirt with the same colour orange within the design. Was a t-shirt for some Women’s Walk something or other. Her hair tied back with a few pieces sticking to her forehead. “Yeah, remember it.”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep moving. One foot and then the other. Around the corner.
I’m so out of shape. Never had to talk myself into motion during the beginning miles.
Tried those exercise bikes, but couldn’t stand it. Had it about 48 hours and just couldn’t deal with it any longer. Honestly that’s because I almost fell off the first time and then it was just so boring. So weights it was. A nice morning and night routine of weights. Why am I running again? Why the same old routine as a decade ago? God, has it really been that long? Eleven years. Give or take a day. Eleven. My God…
But why now? Dunno. Just woke up and it seemed like a thing to do. Could simply answer that the quack told me to run but that would be a cheap shot.
A sigh escapes and I’m continuing on down the path. I know the answer. It’s in me,
just why think it? Thinking it brings it to reality and well, reality bites. Who gives a shit about reality anymore. Well, I guess the world with all these God-damn reality TV shows but that’s not the same.
Pretty busy out today. People seem to be everywhere - like it like this because then usually I can just fall into the crowd without a fuss. Wow, that sounded arrogant. Like I’m some big movie star and need to hide from my adoring fans. I do need to hide, but I don’t have fans, just a dozen ninety year old women who have decided I’m too cute, yet too pitiful and therefore, need them to look after me. It’s a small place and sooner or later I will have to pass one of them in this park and they will get on the horn and let everybody else know, so they will start to cook and meet me at the finishing line- my house. And then they will proceed to stay and talk to me like I am twelve and tell me all about how I need to get out and find a sex life.
Just what you want to hear from a group of grandmothers. Helps my ego. I tell ya.
I do appreciate all their help and even their company. Hell, I even appreciate them trying to fix me up with every available and sometimes not available female in England, but on my first day out here in over a decade, trying to get my fat ass to move it down the path at a rather slow pace, I don’t feel like having people ogle. Perhaps in a few weeks. Get the muscles perked up, a firmer ass and then wear a skimpy outfit like the playboy over there.
Ha… shit that would be the day. Perhaps a tank-top next time. Not that. I would get a fuckin’ wedgey in those.
I seem to be a shitty old man who once use to be happy and popular. Can popularity make you happy? According to Barbara Walters it can. According to me, not completely. Helps but if you lack happiness in daily life… you can’t live through them. Just like they can’t live through you. Happiness… its all relative.
Roller bladers everywhere. Dangerous and uncaring teens on roller blades. Deadly for me. These definitely were not around back then. Just runners and walkers. Life was just much simpler in many ways back then. Would love to go back… back to the simple time and the fun life. A time when I enjoyed it all. Just something thrilling rather than something I do. A time when I had it all. Hell, a time when I wasn’t so “alone.”
Damn, let the word slip out and I see the lady turn quickly to look at me as I pass. Yes, a moron who is talking to himself. Happens. Even to John Black. Alert the presses that he has gone insane. Imaginary friend. I should have brought music. Something to listen to. Perhaps put some of those CDs that Sami sent and that are currently lining the floor onto my IPod and bring that along. But nah, I would get distracted, not pay attention to the song. Then would slip and tell her that I listened to them and fail her constant quizzing. Still I need something. Thinking to yourself is quite dull.
Running along a path. Running past people. Running past ducks. It’s all the same. Nothing has changed. The duck poop still lines the pathway, hot women run with barely any clothes on, you try not to be too noticeable on your double take, kids are screaming in the park and old people still line the streets, sitting on their porches. I’ve now become a part of their morning ritual. Go me.
I turn a corner sharply and try desperately not to bump into a woman or the garbage can. As my hip comes into contact with the metal can, I wince and swear at myself to start remembering to take wider turns while downtown. “I’m so sorry. You okay?”
“You didn’t hit me, so I should be asking you that question.”
I just got looked over. And I do believe that she is impressed by what she sees and well, pretty sure that I’m blushing. I can feel the heat and it isn’t just from the sun. Wow, I have been off the market so long that I can’t handle being looked at like a piece of meat anymore. I should be proud she even bothered.
Giving her the John Black smile, I nod slightly and reply, “I’m just fine, but will be keeping a better eye out… for people that is, from now on.” A ‘bye’ slips through my lips as I begin to run again, but my step is a little stiff. Hit that thing a little harder than I had expected.
I mumble out “Shit” and rub my hip as I begin to pick up my step, but quickly stop as my shoe comes untied. Bending over, I begin to quickly retie it.
“So did you get her number Sailor?”
I freeze. I can’t even manage to look up.
I can see her silhouette against the wall and I try to smile. But instead, I’m just shocked into silence.
“Hard way to pick up a lady. May just want to attempt the old ‘Hey how are you?’ trick. Less painful.”
“Well, you know what they say, doctors know best.” I stand up and finally the grin has spread across my entire face. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you or anything, but…” I gesture around and can’t help but laugh slightly, “This can’t be just another coincidence.”
She slides the tips of her fingers into her shorts’ pockets, her head dips down, yet she looks up at me through her bangs, “You don’t think that I just happened to stumble upon this quaint little town while I was on vacation and just happened to run into you here on the street?”
My eyebrows go up in typical Black fashion and together we burst out laughing at the absurdity. It’s been a while since I have let out a truly heartfelt laugh.
“Guess I am outed. Went by your house and your nice neighbor told me where I could find you. Run often?”
“Well yeah… sure… this is my first time.” Again we laugh. For some reason, there is little awkwardness in this meeting. It is flowing so much better than the others. So much easier. We’ve almost reached another year with barely a glance at each other. But finally, time is just fading away and I am not so scared of it. I’m content.
She’s staring at me and I give her a questioning look. Not sure why she is looking at me that way. “You do seem very content.” Whoa, where did that come from? But she simply smiles knowingly. “You got that far-off look and suddenly decided to inform me that you are content. And I agree with that. However, should I take that as a hint?”
“What kind of hint?”
“That perhaps I should leave. Though your neighbor would be crushed if I did.” Now she is nervous. I made her that way without ever meaning to, “She has already invited me over for cake and coffee and to a picnic Thursday. Definitely a friendly little place you found here.”
“Marlena… Doc… hold up. Slow down.” I step forward to allow a shopper to pass by. “I’m glad to see you and Mrs. H’s cake is incredible. But beware, it won’t be an intimate little gathering. But… first… up for a run?”
She looks it. No purse. Shorts and a tank top and man, she is definitely looking good. About time I let that thought slip through. “Uh. I dunno.”
“Come on. I’ll race ya back.” I grab her hand and begin to take off. One step after another. I take it easy for the both of us, but she seems to be staying up with no problem at all.
Could my life be any more messed up? This can’t be normal. Honestly, it can’t be.
We run in silence. Her hand should have slipped from mine by now, but instead she keeps her fingers entwined with mine, as we run down Hidden Pond road… or is it lane? Always wondered if it truly matters. I guess it could because there could be a Hidden Pond Lane, Hidden Pond Road, and a Hidden Pond Circle for all I know. Then again, I still have yet to figure out the postal system here. I’m told it’s the same as the US, yet I can’t figure it out. Wonder if that means I don’t actually understand the US one either.
I tug lightly on her hand to show her that we are about to turn at the corner. Around the corner and down the street and I can already see the ladies on their porches waiting for me, well I think they are more waiting for Marlena and to see what I do. The gossip lines are busy as hell today, I am sure. Think they’ve needed something juicy to talk about and it might as well be me who gives it to them.
Before I can realize what is happening, I feel Marlena let go of my hand and race in front of me, yelling out “Race ya!”
“What the…” I laugh and take off after her. “Get back here.” I haul ass after her. God, she must run now because she is just booking it. I side step a large crack on the sidewalk and concentrate on catching up to her.
Left. Right. Left. Right. I lean forward and my arm comes out and I quickly hook it around her waist, lift her slightly off the ground, and use our momentum to spin her. We both laugh, though hers comes out more of a giggle than a true laugh, as we desperately attempt to catch our breaths. “Damn woman, I am too old for this shit.”
“Didn’t do too badly for an old timer.” I put her back on her feet. Hands on my hips, I bend over to catch my breath. In and out. In and out. I watch the grass sway lightly in the breeze and know that the moment will come when I have to look up and start a conversation… start? Or continue? I don’t know which really. Sooner or later I’ll have to open up with the cheesey ‘So what brings you here?’ question and all that.
But I’d rather do that when I can breath. When we don’t have an audience. And when I have something sugary in front of me. Pie it is.
I look up and flash her a quick smile before I start to move. I tug on her shirt real quick to make sure that she moves with me. “Mrs. H and Mrs. N… you adorable ladies wouldn’t by any chance have a nice slice of pie for my friend here and myself, would you?”
“Oh well…” Mrs. H smiles down the porch towards her friend and continues to rock in her chair, “Well Doreen, did we bake anything this morning?”
“Well, no, I don’t think we did.”
Clutching my heart, I put on my fake puppy dog look and go to work, “Oh ladies, loves of my life, you wound me. You two not bake? That’s a crime against humanity.”
“Oh well dear… we may have made something… perhaps from those apples that you brought over yesterday.” I can feel Marlena’s eyes shift towards me and I have a feeling that an accusing ‘John’ is about to slip through her lips, but Mrs. H saves me by talking to her first. “You see dear, our Johnny here brings us things all the time. Fruits and vegetables for pies and such and flowers and candies. He really is too good to us.”
“Yes, he flies in things from all over. Sent to America to get us strawberries even.” They both give me that proud grandmother look that just makes me smile- dimples and all. And I’m okay with that because these two ladies… well they are more or less my new Mrs. Horton. Not that anybody could truly replace that Mrs. H., but I need somebody to keep an eye on me, right? They are still talking away to Marlena and I’ve lost the jist of the conversation, “… eats right that boy. When we moved here, the first time that is, he was just wasting away. Patty and I were really concerned about him- about him taking good care of himself, so we would check in. Fatten him up.”
“And then he left.”
Mrs. N. gives Mrs. H. that all-knowing nod. The one that is supposedly filled with so much intellect and insight, but I think you need to be really old before it all comes to you. “That’s right. One day he just up and left and just as suddenly, he was back. Went over to welcome the new neighbor and were shocked-“
“Pleasantly so of course.”
Another nod, “Of course, to see that it was him. Again, he was as thin as a board and again, we had to fatten him up. Meat and potatoes is the way.”
I hear a slight giggle before I realize that I’m being patted on my stomach, “Yes, I think you ladies have been doing a fine job.”
Grabbing her hand, I glare at Marlena, “Excuse me Doc? I’m in perfect shape, as always.”
Mrs. H. to my rescue. “Oh yes, deary. He runs. He does eat a lot but we see him working out and running and everything. One would have to, the way he eats. A strong appetite shows a good man. Don’t you agree dear?”
“Uh, sure, yeah I guess so.” Marlena gives me an unsure look and I just simply nod. What else should I do?
“Do you cook dear?”
Mrs. N., such a sweet lady, but tends to always ask the most obvious, yet wrong questions. I do love her for it though. “Uh…” Again she looks at me, as if she wishes me to save her from some vicious lion. “No, ma’am. I actually don’t cook... much.”
“No? Oh my, don’t have the time? That seems to be the thing these days. Never the time, always in a rush. Like Johnny, always in and out. Never a spare moment to just sit and enjoy a beautiful morning like today.”
“I do agree with you there, Mrs. H. But no, I’m just rather bad at it.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
She nods and smiles up at the porch, “So I am told, but I never seemed to improve and finally I didn’t have anymore people willing to be practiced upon. Even my children. They would all run or kick me out of the kitchen.”
“Well, what about Johnny? Johnny, you’d let her practice right?”
Ut-Oh, now I am in trouble. I look down at the grass, as if that will help the question go away, or the smirk that is so apparent on Doc’s face. “Yeah, Johnny… you’d let me, right?”
“Oh sure.” I flash some dimples at the ladies and hope to step out of this one, “I have always been a strong supporter of her practicing. Offer my help and everything.”
“Bologna!”
“What?”
She points a finger at me, and I can’t help the laughs that are coming forth, “When we were married, you use to barricade the door, literally, so I couldn’t get in. Had that time where you didn’t let me in for weeks, so don’t go all innocent and helpful now. Oh don’t you shake your head John Black, you told me that take-out was invented to help people like me.”
That’s it, the laughter is full force now. I did tell her that and I did mean it. I still do mean it. Some people can’t hit a baseball to save their lives and some people can’t cook to save theirs.
“Married?”
Laughter stops. Shit. Doc looks at me and I shrug. “Uh, yeah Mrs. H and Mrs. N. Marlena and I were married for a few years, a long time ago.”
“What happened? You two still seem so close and well, Johnny’s spoken so much about you.”
I jump in before anybody else can say another word, “Well ladies, that’s a rather long story that I’ll have to fill you in on someday, but right now, I really need to clean up. Pie and tea chat later this afternoon?”
They nod their understanding in unison, “You know where to find us, son.”
“That I do. Enjoy the rest of the morning ladies.”
“Dear, make sure you join us as well. We’d love to get to know you a little better.”
A swift morning jog, does a body good, right? Or so the doc has been lecturing me. Always wonder if he lectures everybody as routine or if he truly feels that I need to move my fat ass around a bit more. Having just a few problems believing this because it gets moved a hell of a lot – and I use to work out often - haven’t been out of it that long to totally fall out of shape. Plus business keeps me moving. Not too many couch sitting days. Not too many bags of chips while couch sitting.
Yet, I’m out running. One week after the lecture I am out here running. Must mean I know deep down I’ve had one or two bags too many these last couple months. Fearful that I won’t fit in a single plane seat anymore, if my ass gets any larger. Would make running after them harder, that’s for sure. Need to learn how to be more on time.
So why today? Not really sure. Use to jog daily. Same path. Same time. With the same omelet at the end. Was a religious thing before work each day. Friends would show up along the path to chat or catch me if something had come up and even occasionally a certain blonde would come out and play. Never a pleasant thing for her. Always took a little bit a blackmailing. Always swore she hated to run but never seemed to mind it much once we began to move. Chat about life and joke about the people sitting around staring at us, looking gorgeous in all our sweaty, unkempt manner.
Man, it’s those types of things that I miss the most.
Then at the end, like the end of every run in Salem, Aunt Mav’s Breakfast for all hours diner. “Cheese eggs, butter and traditional black coffee. Nothing fancy.” I’m mocking her. She isn’t even present and I am mocking her. And out loud even! Pathetic how trivial things are remembered. Can’t recall what I ate last Monday while having dinner with Dave and yet, I remember her eggs from days gone by. Just been so long since I’ve done this. Yet, I can remember the fact that she wore orange Nike shorts on our last run together. My last run period.
That day had been hot. Shit, was it ever hot. The walk to the car alone created a sweat. I arrived at the beginning to see her pull up next to me. Totally forgot I had invited her. Not like me to forget but God, that week had been shitty. Everything went wrong. With everything going on with her and Roman and myself, I was already overloaded and Sami and Eric had ‘run away,’ so to speak, to my place again. That never went over well. With my job switch, well I just hated my job in the beginning. Loved being a cop and then that was just taken out from underneath me and my business partners wanted my full attention then. Should have said ‘fuck you’ back then- kept all that under control. It all just got out of hand. Who knew my job would end up running my life.
Well, I guess it’s not like I really had that much of a life to worry about.
But it had just been a horrible week. Things were falling apart daily and being removed from the cop shop, I thought at the time, was the final straw. So I needed to run. So I invited my running partner along. I didn’t really expect her to say yes and I never really thought she would show up. We had run into each other in Salem Square, got into the small talk and it came out as a polite offer, rather than a serious one.
Orange shorts and a white t-shirt with the same colour orange within the design. Was a t-shirt for some Women’s Walk something or other. Her hair tied back with a few pieces sticking to her forehead. “Yeah, remember it.”
Breathe in. Breathe out. Keep moving. One foot and then the other. Around the corner.
I’m so out of shape. Never had to talk myself into motion during the beginning miles.
Tried those exercise bikes, but couldn’t stand it. Had it about 48 hours and just couldn’t deal with it any longer. Honestly that’s because I almost fell off the first time and then it was just so boring. So weights it was. A nice morning and night routine of weights. Why am I running again? Why the same old routine as a decade ago? God, has it really been that long? Eleven years. Give or take a day. Eleven. My God…
But why now? Dunno. Just woke up and it seemed like a thing to do. Could simply answer that the quack told me to run but that would be a cheap shot.
A sigh escapes and I’m continuing on down the path. I know the answer. It’s in me,
just why think it? Thinking it brings it to reality and well, reality bites. Who gives a shit about reality anymore. Well, I guess the world with all these God-damn reality TV shows but that’s not the same.
Pretty busy out today. People seem to be everywhere - like it like this because then usually I can just fall into the crowd without a fuss. Wow, that sounded arrogant. Like I’m some big movie star and need to hide from my adoring fans. I do need to hide, but I don’t have fans, just a dozen ninety year old women who have decided I’m too cute, yet too pitiful and therefore, need them to look after me. It’s a small place and sooner or later I will have to pass one of them in this park and they will get on the horn and let everybody else know, so they will start to cook and meet me at the finishing line- my house. And then they will proceed to stay and talk to me like I am twelve and tell me all about how I need to get out and find a sex life.
Just what you want to hear from a group of grandmothers. Helps my ego. I tell ya.
I do appreciate all their help and even their company. Hell, I even appreciate them trying to fix me up with every available and sometimes not available female in England, but on my first day out here in over a decade, trying to get my fat ass to move it down the path at a rather slow pace, I don’t feel like having people ogle. Perhaps in a few weeks. Get the muscles perked up, a firmer ass and then wear a skimpy outfit like the playboy over there.
Ha… shit that would be the day. Perhaps a tank-top next time. Not that. I would get a fuckin’ wedgey in those.
I seem to be a shitty old man who once use to be happy and popular. Can popularity make you happy? According to Barbara Walters it can. According to me, not completely. Helps but if you lack happiness in daily life… you can’t live through them. Just like they can’t live through you. Happiness… its all relative.
Roller bladers everywhere. Dangerous and uncaring teens on roller blades. Deadly for me. These definitely were not around back then. Just runners and walkers. Life was just much simpler in many ways back then. Would love to go back… back to the simple time and the fun life. A time when I enjoyed it all. Just something thrilling rather than something I do. A time when I had it all. Hell, a time when I wasn’t so “alone.”
Damn, let the word slip out and I see the lady turn quickly to look at me as I pass. Yes, a moron who is talking to himself. Happens. Even to John Black. Alert the presses that he has gone insane. Imaginary friend. I should have brought music. Something to listen to. Perhaps put some of those CDs that Sami sent and that are currently lining the floor onto my IPod and bring that along. But nah, I would get distracted, not pay attention to the song. Then would slip and tell her that I listened to them and fail her constant quizzing. Still I need something. Thinking to yourself is quite dull.
Running along a path. Running past people. Running past ducks. It’s all the same. Nothing has changed. The duck poop still lines the pathway, hot women run with barely any clothes on, you try not to be too noticeable on your double take, kids are screaming in the park and old people still line the streets, sitting on their porches. I’ve now become a part of their morning ritual. Go me.
I turn a corner sharply and try desperately not to bump into a woman or the garbage can. As my hip comes into contact with the metal can, I wince and swear at myself to start remembering to take wider turns while downtown. “I’m so sorry. You okay?”
“You didn’t hit me, so I should be asking you that question.”
I just got looked over. And I do believe that she is impressed by what she sees and well, pretty sure that I’m blushing. I can feel the heat and it isn’t just from the sun. Wow, I have been off the market so long that I can’t handle being looked at like a piece of meat anymore. I should be proud she even bothered.
Giving her the John Black smile, I nod slightly and reply, “I’m just fine, but will be keeping a better eye out… for people that is, from now on.” A ‘bye’ slips through my lips as I begin to run again, but my step is a little stiff. Hit that thing a little harder than I had expected.
I mumble out “Shit” and rub my hip as I begin to pick up my step, but quickly stop as my shoe comes untied. Bending over, I begin to quickly retie it.
“So did you get her number Sailor?”
I freeze. I can’t even manage to look up.
I can see her silhouette against the wall and I try to smile. But instead, I’m just shocked into silence.
“Hard way to pick up a lady. May just want to attempt the old ‘Hey how are you?’ trick. Less painful.”
“Well, you know what they say, doctors know best.” I stand up and finally the grin has spread across my entire face. “What are you doing here? Not that I’m not glad to see you or anything, but…” I gesture around and can’t help but laugh slightly, “This can’t be just another coincidence.”
She slides the tips of her fingers into her shorts’ pockets, her head dips down, yet she looks up at me through her bangs, “You don’t think that I just happened to stumble upon this quaint little town while I was on vacation and just happened to run into you here on the street?”
My eyebrows go up in typical Black fashion and together we burst out laughing at the absurdity. It’s been a while since I have let out a truly heartfelt laugh.
“Guess I am outed. Went by your house and your nice neighbor told me where I could find you. Run often?”
“Well yeah… sure… this is my first time.” Again we laugh. For some reason, there is little awkwardness in this meeting. It is flowing so much better than the others. So much easier. We’ve almost reached another year with barely a glance at each other. But finally, time is just fading away and I am not so scared of it. I’m content.
She’s staring at me and I give her a questioning look. Not sure why she is looking at me that way. “You do seem very content.” Whoa, where did that come from? But she simply smiles knowingly. “You got that far-off look and suddenly decided to inform me that you are content. And I agree with that. However, should I take that as a hint?”
“What kind of hint?”
“That perhaps I should leave. Though your neighbor would be crushed if I did.” Now she is nervous. I made her that way without ever meaning to, “She has already invited me over for cake and coffee and to a picnic Thursday. Definitely a friendly little place you found here.”
“Marlena… Doc… hold up. Slow down.” I step forward to allow a shopper to pass by. “I’m glad to see you and Mrs. H’s cake is incredible. But beware, it won’t be an intimate little gathering. But… first… up for a run?”
She looks it. No purse. Shorts and a tank top and man, she is definitely looking good. About time I let that thought slip through. “Uh. I dunno.”
“Come on. I’ll race ya back.” I grab her hand and begin to take off. One step after another. I take it easy for the both of us, but she seems to be staying up with no problem at all.
Could my life be any more messed up? This can’t be normal. Honestly, it can’t be.
We run in silence. Her hand should have slipped from mine by now, but instead she keeps her fingers entwined with mine, as we run down Hidden Pond road… or is it lane? Always wondered if it truly matters. I guess it could because there could be a Hidden Pond Lane, Hidden Pond Road, and a Hidden Pond Circle for all I know. Then again, I still have yet to figure out the postal system here. I’m told it’s the same as the US, yet I can’t figure it out. Wonder if that means I don’t actually understand the US one either.
I tug lightly on her hand to show her that we are about to turn at the corner. Around the corner and down the street and I can already see the ladies on their porches waiting for me, well I think they are more waiting for Marlena and to see what I do. The gossip lines are busy as hell today, I am sure. Think they’ve needed something juicy to talk about and it might as well be me who gives it to them.
Before I can realize what is happening, I feel Marlena let go of my hand and race in front of me, yelling out “Race ya!”
“What the…” I laugh and take off after her. “Get back here.” I haul ass after her. God, she must run now because she is just booking it. I side step a large crack on the sidewalk and concentrate on catching up to her.
Left. Right. Left. Right. I lean forward and my arm comes out and I quickly hook it around her waist, lift her slightly off the ground, and use our momentum to spin her. We both laugh, though hers comes out more of a giggle than a true laugh, as we desperately attempt to catch our breaths. “Damn woman, I am too old for this shit.”
“Didn’t do too badly for an old timer.” I put her back on her feet. Hands on my hips, I bend over to catch my breath. In and out. In and out. I watch the grass sway lightly in the breeze and know that the moment will come when I have to look up and start a conversation… start? Or continue? I don’t know which really. Sooner or later I’ll have to open up with the cheesey ‘So what brings you here?’ question and all that.
But I’d rather do that when I can breath. When we don’t have an audience. And when I have something sugary in front of me. Pie it is.
I look up and flash her a quick smile before I start to move. I tug on her shirt real quick to make sure that she moves with me. “Mrs. H and Mrs. N… you adorable ladies wouldn’t by any chance have a nice slice of pie for my friend here and myself, would you?”
“Oh well…” Mrs. H smiles down the porch towards her friend and continues to rock in her chair, “Well Doreen, did we bake anything this morning?”
“Well, no, I don’t think we did.”
Clutching my heart, I put on my fake puppy dog look and go to work, “Oh ladies, loves of my life, you wound me. You two not bake? That’s a crime against humanity.”
“Oh well dear… we may have made something… perhaps from those apples that you brought over yesterday.” I can feel Marlena’s eyes shift towards me and I have a feeling that an accusing ‘John’ is about to slip through her lips, but Mrs. H saves me by talking to her first. “You see dear, our Johnny here brings us things all the time. Fruits and vegetables for pies and such and flowers and candies. He really is too good to us.”
“Yes, he flies in things from all over. Sent to America to get us strawberries even.” They both give me that proud grandmother look that just makes me smile- dimples and all. And I’m okay with that because these two ladies… well they are more or less my new Mrs. Horton. Not that anybody could truly replace that Mrs. H., but I need somebody to keep an eye on me, right? They are still talking away to Marlena and I’ve lost the jist of the conversation, “… eats right that boy. When we moved here, the first time that is, he was just wasting away. Patty and I were really concerned about him- about him taking good care of himself, so we would check in. Fatten him up.”
“And then he left.”
Mrs. N. gives Mrs. H. that all-knowing nod. The one that is supposedly filled with so much intellect and insight, but I think you need to be really old before it all comes to you. “That’s right. One day he just up and left and just as suddenly, he was back. Went over to welcome the new neighbor and were shocked-“
“Pleasantly so of course.”
Another nod, “Of course, to see that it was him. Again, he was as thin as a board and again, we had to fatten him up. Meat and potatoes is the way.”
I hear a slight giggle before I realize that I’m being patted on my stomach, “Yes, I think you ladies have been doing a fine job.”
Grabbing her hand, I glare at Marlena, “Excuse me Doc? I’m in perfect shape, as always.”
Mrs. H. to my rescue. “Oh yes, deary. He runs. He does eat a lot but we see him working out and running and everything. One would have to, the way he eats. A strong appetite shows a good man. Don’t you agree dear?”
“Uh, sure, yeah I guess so.” Marlena gives me an unsure look and I just simply nod. What else should I do?
“Do you cook dear?”
Mrs. N., such a sweet lady, but tends to always ask the most obvious, yet wrong questions. I do love her for it though. “Uh…” Again she looks at me, as if she wishes me to save her from some vicious lion. “No, ma’am. I actually don’t cook... much.”
“No? Oh my, don’t have the time? That seems to be the thing these days. Never the time, always in a rush. Like Johnny, always in and out. Never a spare moment to just sit and enjoy a beautiful morning like today.”
“I do agree with you there, Mrs. H. But no, I’m just rather bad at it.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
She nods and smiles up at the porch, “So I am told, but I never seemed to improve and finally I didn’t have anymore people willing to be practiced upon. Even my children. They would all run or kick me out of the kitchen.”
“Well, what about Johnny? Johnny, you’d let her practice right?”
Ut-Oh, now I am in trouble. I look down at the grass, as if that will help the question go away, or the smirk that is so apparent on Doc’s face. “Yeah, Johnny… you’d let me, right?”
“Oh sure.” I flash some dimples at the ladies and hope to step out of this one, “I have always been a strong supporter of her practicing. Offer my help and everything.”
“Bologna!”
“What?”
She points a finger at me, and I can’t help the laughs that are coming forth, “When we were married, you use to barricade the door, literally, so I couldn’t get in. Had that time where you didn’t let me in for weeks, so don’t go all innocent and helpful now. Oh don’t you shake your head John Black, you told me that take-out was invented to help people like me.”
That’s it, the laughter is full force now. I did tell her that and I did mean it. I still do mean it. Some people can’t hit a baseball to save their lives and some people can’t cook to save theirs.
“Married?”
Laughter stops. Shit. Doc looks at me and I shrug. “Uh, yeah Mrs. H and Mrs. N. Marlena and I were married for a few years, a long time ago.”
“What happened? You two still seem so close and well, Johnny’s spoken so much about you.”
I jump in before anybody else can say another word, “Well ladies, that’s a rather long story that I’ll have to fill you in on someday, but right now, I really need to clean up. Pie and tea chat later this afternoon?”
They nod their understanding in unison, “You know where to find us, son.”
“That I do. Enjoy the rest of the morning ladies.”
“Dear, make sure you join us as well. We’d love to get to know you a little better.”