I haven't had time to write anything completely new, but I dug out something I started a few months back and slapped a quick ending on it. Hope you enjoy.
MK
"You said at the beginning of this, at least you would walk away from tonight knowing you did everything you could," my brother said to me through the phone. "I'm so proud of you man, that took a lot of courage."
"I know that Jake, and I do feel that, no matter what happens from this point forward, I will have been completely emotionally honest for the first time in my life," I said with a twinge of disappointment.
"Maybe she'll come around."
"I'd like to hope so, but you just never know. She can be so damn strong-headed sometimes."
I shifted the phone to my shoulder and leaned forward in my chair. On the table in front of my was my briar wood pipe and a box of matches. The pipe was loaded with a fine blend of aromatic tobacco. I struck a match and touched the flames to the tobacco and I was instantly rewarded with the smell and taste of hazelnut.
I started puffing away on the pipe, while I listened to my brother as he continued to feed me bits of moral support. His words started to fade, and I began to mumble short affirmations in places where I felt it necessary to make him think I was listening.
"Are you evening paying attention to me?" Jake finally asked.
"Huh?" I struggled.
"You're dreaming again, aren't you? You're sitting on that patio, puffing on that pipe, thinking about her."
"Guilty as charged," I chuckled.
"Well, I have a feeling you're going into one of your 'self-healing' modes. I can't wait to see the results. Email me a copy in the morning, will you?"
"You know it bro. Tell Grace and the kids I love 'em. Thanks for everything," I said with the little focus I had left. "I love you."
"I love you too man."
"Night."
I hit end on the phone and laid it down on the table. I opened up my laptop and began to write the dreams and visions in my mind as they came to me. They were all the bright and shining things I had hoped that my first act of genuine emotional honesty could have brought me. These hopes were still things that I thought could be possible, just now more distant and tougher to grasp.
Finally, I felt the well starting to draw down. I remembered my Hemingway at that moment—never write until the well was dry, always save a little so it recharges. I saved my work and emailed a copy to my brother, as promised. With gentle ease, I closed the laptop and went searching for something to read. After browsing the Kindle store for a few minutes, I settled on a collection of short stories. I was asleep in no time.
"Are you gonna take that dog for a walk?"
It was my father. He was at the door of my room, acting like I was a young boy who had overslept on a summer day. My father had ruined many a summer sleep-in day when I was a boy, and he continued to do it every time he came to my home after I became a man.
"Yes, sir. I'm on it," I mumbled as I rolled out of the low bed.
"I still don't understand why you like having a bed that close to the ground," he commented. "It just seems weird."
"In case you hadn't noticed anytime in the last twenty-nine years: I am weird, Dad."
"I can't help it!" he exclaimed,a bit defensively.
I stood and looked at him.
"Let's go walk that damned dog."
I walked into the bathroom and splashed some cool water on my face. I took up my toothbrush and put it to work. I was reminded of the previous night's tobacco smoking when the minty toothpaste came into contact with my tongue.
"Groooss," I muttered gutturally and then spit the foamy mixture into the sink.
I washed my hands and put my contact lenses in my eyes. As the lenses settled into place, I put on my gym shorts and a fresh gray t-shirt.
Out in the living room, I found my running shoes and a pair of socks. A quick sniff test confirmed that these socks were still suitable for my use. On they all went, and I grabbed the dog leash off the counter.
"Dog!" I called. "Come on, girl"
It was no use, she was still not going to come to my call. A quick looked confirmed my suspicion, she was cowering under my dining room table. I would have to crawl to her to hook the leash on.
Down on all fours, I crept closer to the trembling mutt.
"Easy, girl," I said, holding one hand out to touch her muzzle. With the other hand, I reached up and clipped the leash to her collar. In an instant she was transformed into a well-mannered dog. Out the door we went.
"I still don't get it," my father said to me, well into our walk. "Why do you keep trying with this dog?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know, I guess it's like everything else in my life: I'm hanging on to foolish hope."
I could sense the old man was going somewhere with this line of questioning, and I wasn't going to be a fan of that destination.
"So, it's just like her. You're gonna kill yourself trying to make them both love you," he said as his tone became more stern.
"Maybe, maybe not. I have to try."
I looked down at the dog walking a few paces in front of me. Her tongue was hanging out of the side of her mouth, and she was casting her gaze straight back at me. It was an ambiguous stare and I was having a hard time discerning whether she was looking at me out of suspicion, or if she was merely conveying her excitement.
The three of us walked on in near-silence. We walked nearly three miles that morning. I thought about a great many things during that walk. Was I going to get the answer I was looking for? What if I didn't?
I know my father didn't necessarily agree with my decision, yet I believe he understood why I had to do it. He had seen what letting something slip away because of my own inaction had done to me once before. It was only after I myself had become a father that I really began to understand how much heartache your child's pain can reflect back on you.
As we rounded the corner to the house, my optimism took hold. How fantastic it would be to round that bend and see her car in the driveway, I thought.
Alas, my fairytale ending wasn't in store. The driveway was empty.
"I'm gonna go take a shower, then we can go get breakfast."
"Okay. I'm gonna go call your mom," he said to me.
When I walked in the bathroom, I noticed my cell phone sitting on the counter. I had been so wrapped up in my own head earlier that I had forgotten it. The LED light at the top was blinking—I had a message!
My heart rose with anticipation as I picked the phone up and clicked on the screen. The message was from her:
"I can't do this."
