A new short

I need a title for this story. Enjoy!

[untitled]

That afternoon was the best day of the end of the summer. Was Fall coming? Only in the whisper of the grasshoppers – they kept the secrets from the Ashley kids for they enjoyed their company too much to spoil it. All five of them out in the field just down the road from Mammaw’s. Each walk they took down to this field burnt their soles to a warm callous. They didn’t fear the goatheads!

Golden light bathed the siblings in their creation of realms, spaces, creatures, and language. These are the greatest memories of the family: the ideal. Well, for the most part. There were many great memories involving Daddy, but he wasn’t in the field that time, he was away at work.

Did he still love her?

Modell sat in the window, staring at the horizon. Her conscience waivered between wife, mother, little girl, and nerves. Left. One. Two. One. No, right one. One, two, three. The trees seemed unbalanced: the cuticle hanging onto her left ring finger bled from her constant picking. Nothing. Nothing at all.

“Oh, Alvis! Put your book down!” Karen turned from the eldest to the West Texas dust sky. All she knew was that it was so open, so big, so full of things waiting for her to feel them into existence. Several times she spotted a group of Indians solemnly staring into her big brown eyes. What did they want? Where are they going? Can I come? She would draw this picture for Daddy – he would be so proud of the respect shown to their ancestors. Blink. The wind whipped her short brown hair over her eyes just in time to shield them from a hot breath of sand.

Time to go. The Ashleys retrieved their shoes and cans and books and strays from under the sole shade of a mesquite. The grasshoppers began to get restless and a cool wind slid across the weed-tops. Birds circled the field waiting to descend upon their nests. It was time to go back to Mammaw’s.

Walking back to the house, their feet were happily worn and dirty. Norman, the baby of the group, dangled behind to follow a killdeer with his empty blue eyes. He knew because Daddy told him that the killdeer made that awful sound to scare predators away from her young. Why does she scare them away?

They saw Daddy was there sitting near the window. His face was pastoral and gray. To run her fingers on his wrinkled cheeks and lips – to feel the bones of his Indian cheeks and ridge of the Scottish nose! Daddy sits alive in her mind though she sees him grow more serious now, but only when he thinks no one else is looking.

Sally was in the kitchen kneading and humming a spiritual. Mammaw sang and Daddy hummed the bass, too. How could he resist? He told the kids it was time to go home. Sally made enough food for them to take home. Daddy will probably open a can of beans when we get back. He told them to prepare a summary of their day, so that they could tell their mother of every adventure they encountered. She had been sick that day. Mommy is sick again. His voice was reassuring, but tired and they sensed the ride home should be a calm one – they would probably sing (in harmony for Daddy was in the Army chorus) hymns on the way home. Maybe an old cowboy campfire song if they were lucky. Alvis sang bass, Lynn did too, but not as deep. Karen sang alto and Nelda soprano. Norman didn’t sing. Daddy directed them and sang along. I love Daddy’s voice. This made him happier than anything in the world.

At home, the kids began to run inside. Daddy instructed them to walk in, for their mother was not well. The turquoise screen door gave its familiar creek and they entered prepared to recite the day to their mother. The door slapped closed. Daddy took the food to the table. Where is she? Karen peered into her mother’s bedroom and saw her lying with her back to the door. She looked like a withered kitten in the middle of a big bed. The smell was a mixture of stale and menthol. I can’t breathe. Dinner was ready.

The sheets are white. Cold. If I can do this then why am I going back and forth and feeling – the smell? Where is he? Surely he has abandoned me again for them. His desire is for someone else. I hate the way he makes me feel. He will be coming any moment. I have to hide. I have to leave. Where is my sister?

Quietly, the children stepped into their mother’s bedroom. They had prepared a summary of their day for her. Daddy stepped in to preface their visit. Startled at his voice, she turned with wide eyes toward the door and clenched up the covers. Daddy consoled her. She sat up halfway and looked at the line of her children, oldest to youngest. Blink.

She didn’t remember them. She had no memory of her children. There they stood before her: five ignorant and pleading pair of eyes searching for their Mommy. He quickly realized what was happening, and ushered the children out.

How could she forget me? How could Mommy forget us?

Karen handed her shoes to Daddy. He set his heavy palm on her head. Looking up through her bangs, she wanted to hug him. I’m sorry, Daddy! He kissed her on the cheek and they all went to bed shortly. Tomorrow was Sunday, and everyone must look their best. He would stay up late tonight. By the glow of one lamp, Daddy polished each shoe to military perfection and lined them up according to size.

How could he still love her?

Sleep brought him a few hours of relief, but his life was in his children. For them he woke everyday.