Jinny

Monday

Jinny awoke gently to the delicate morning sunlight slipping through the gaps in her drapes.  As she stretched her arms above her head and yawned, she realized that she had fallen asleep on her couch.  A great blanket was spread over her, and although she was puzzled as to the seeming deliberateness of her sleeping location, she assumed it must have been for good reason.

She swung her legs over and pulled the blanket off, folding it into a neat square before laying it over the back of the couch.  She wore a pastel-yellow nighty, her husband’s favorite.  Rubbing her eyes, she headed upstairs.

The bed was made, so she couldn’t have gotten up to sleep elsewhere in the middle of the night.  The couch must have been by choice.

Running her hand lightly along the covers, her thoughtful daze was broken as she reached the headboard.  The window to the right of the bed seemed off-color, as if it wasn’t letting in as much light as the window on the left side.

Jeremy must have replaced it without telling me, she thought.  Although I can’t remember when it was ever in need of replacement.  I’ll have to ask him about it when he gets home.  Less than a week now.  Jinny smiled and did a little turn, kicking her heel up and skipping merrily out of the room, her nighty fluttering around her.

Downstairs again, she headed for the kitchen.  Pots hung from the ceiling above a polished rosewood table.  Jinny couldn’t remember the last time she had seen her table so clean; it shone pleasantly in the pale sunlight. 

A beautiful day can really make you notice these things, Jinny thought happily.    

She danced across the kitchen floor and opened the fridge.  Inside was a plate with a full meal on it: chicken and ham with gravy on the side, sweet potatoes, and coleslaw, covered with Saran wrap.  A wine glass sat beside it.  The sticky note that leaned against the base of the glass read:

I guess you fell asleep before our dinner plans! 

I wrapped yours up and brought it over.

I know you’ll make it up to me!

-Teri

Tuesday

Jinny rang the bell and waited, holding two bags of Chinese food.  Several seconds later it swung open and a woman greeted her, surprised but smiling.  The woman was slightly older than Jinny.

“Jinny!” Teri said, throwing her arms around her.  “Well I would certainly say this makes up for it!” Teri gestured to the Chinese food and welcomed Jinny inside.

“I hope it does,” Jinny said. “I felt so bad yesterday when I saw your note!  I can’t imagine how I managed to fall asleep at such a time and miss our dinner.”

“It happens to the best of us, sweetie.  Don’t feel bad at all!”

Jinny smiled.  She loved having dinner with Teri.  No matter how bad her day had been, Teri could make things better. 

“So how was work today?” Teri said, leading the way to the kitchen. “Mark still giving you trouble?”

“Oh, no,” Jinny said. “Not really.  He’s pulling his weight now.   I think he sensed how frustrated I was getting when we had shifts together.  And I know you don’t buy into it, but I keep going back to the inferiority complex that must come with being a male nurse; I mean, think about it: All your buddies work in construction or accounting or teach at a university, while you wear light blue scrubs and pal around with women all day.  It’s got to affect you somehow!”

Teri scoffed. “I tell you every time, Jinny, there is no such thing as a male inferiority complex!”

“Here we go again,” Jinny said while rolling her eyes so Teri could clearly see.

“It’s simply an individual man’s inability to accept the fact that he has a higher level of estrogen than most guys.”

“Teri you’re so mean!” laughed Jinny as she took a couple plates down from the cupboard over the sink. “Mark is just as manly as any other guy out there.  He just doesn’t know it himself.”

“I see,” Teri said, extending the duration of the second word. “And is he still threatened by your husband coming home?  I seem to remember that you thought he had a thing for you.”

“Oh, I don’t think he does anymore,” Jinny said, removing her wontons from their bag and setting them on her plate. “He’s been acting so strangely lately whenever I bring Jeremy up in conversation.”

Teri took two wine glasses down and uncorked a bottle sitting beside the sink. “Strange?” she asked as she poured. “How so?”

“Well, he just gets really quiet, like he doesn’t want to even hear Jeremy’s name.  Isn’t that odd?”

“Very odd, dear,” Teri took her Chow Mein from the little foam box inside her bag and poured in onto her plate. “But I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“I’m not, really,” Jinny said cheerfully as she set several egg rolls onto her plate.  Together they carried their meals over to the dining room table. “I mean, how could I worry about anything when there’s less than a week to go before Jeremy gets home?  Really, I’ve never been happier.”

Teri looked at her over the steam rising from her plate and smiled. “Exactly, dear.  Exactly.”

Wednesday

Jinny unloaded her clothes from the drier and piled them in a basket.  She kicked the drier door closed and marched up the stairs.  As she turned the corner to head up the second flight, she noticed a discoloration in the wall at about her knee level.  How strange, she thought.  Haven’t noticed that before.

Paying little more attention to it, she headed for her room, humming happily to herself.

She sat on the side of her bed and began to fold things, making separate piles for each type of garment.  A framed picture of a handsome man in a military uniform stood on her nightstand.  She regarded it often, smiling uncontrollably.

Thursday

Jinny walked the hallways of the hospital with an extra spring in her step.  She turned on her heel and walked into a patient’s room, carrying a fresh meal and some pills in the side.

“Good morning Mr. Stevens!”  She said brightly. “Pancakes, eggs, and bacon with a side of antibiotics – I’m jealous!”

“Yum!” said Mr. Stevens, sitting up in his bed with some effort. “Let me at ‘em!”

“Looks like you’re doing better today.”

“Me?  How about you, honey?  You are glowing today!”

Jinny blushed. “Oh!” she said. “That’s right, I haven’t told you!”

“I’ve been here for three days and you’ve been holding out on me?” Joked Mr. Stevens.  “I’m offended!”

“Terribly sorry,” Jinny said, setting the tray on the bed next to Mr. Stevens and fluffing his pillow. “But there is good reason for my mood, you see.  My husband comes back from overseas on Sunday, and I can’t help but count down the days.”

“I see!” Said Mr. Stevens. “Well then wear that smile all day long.”

“It’s a promise,” Jinny said.

Friday

“Hello?”

“Hi Teri.  Can you talk for a minute?”

“Jinny, why are you crying?”

“I don’t know….It’s silly really.  I mean, a month ago I was fine, and that was a month!  And now it’s only two days and I should be happy but it just feels like so long.  It’s like the closer I get to Sunday the longer each day takes to pass.”

“I know honey, I know.  But just think – you’ve made it so long already; think of how little time is left compared to what you’ve already gotten through.”

“I just…I don’t want to wait anymore.”

“And soon you won’t have to.  You’re almost there; you just need to stay positive.”

“I’ll try…”

“Do you want some company?”

“That’d be nice.  Thanks Teri.”

Saturday

Dear Jinny,

It’s really getting dull here.  There is nothing going on and I don’t think I can handle another five hour guard duty tonight, even though I’ve done so many already.  The only thing that keeps me going is the thought of returning home to you.  I look at your picture every night, sometimes for hours.  I can’t wait until our life can finally start.  All I have here are memories.  I play them over and over to keep me sane.  Do you remember that night when we slept on the pier?  We were the only ones for a mile.  I keep replaying that night in my head.  When I get home we are going to do that all the time, alright?  We will fall asleep under the stars and wake up under the sun.  I’ll plan it out tomorrow on our patrol.  It’s the last one, thank God.  I’m sorry this letter can’t be any longer, but it will have to do – I have to take the first shift tonight.  I will see you very, very soon Jinny.  I love you.  You are in my thoughts always.

-See you Sunday at 8 pm

-Jeremy        

   

Sunday

Jinny spent the entire day preparing for Jeremy’s arrival, as she had requested the day off from work.  She danced around the house, cleaning and cooking and singing to herself.

That night she polished the table and set out dinner with two glasses of wine.  She put on her yellow nighty – her husband’s favorite – and patiently waited at the table twenty minutes before he was supposed to arrive.   Her hands in her lap, sweaty with anticipation, she stared at the empty spot across the table and glanced out the window every couple seconds.

At half past eight she ate her own dinner.  It had grown cold.  She then went over to the couch and turned on the T.V.

“You know you aren’t doing her any favors,” said a man walking along the sidewalk to a woman beside him.

“How do you know?” said the woman.

“Teri, what you’re doing here is holding her back.  You are keeping her from progressing, from moving on.  She needs to move on, or at least be given the opportunity.”

“But is this really all that bad?” said Teri. “I mean, she’s happy mostly all week – probably happier than most of us.  I couldn’t take that away from her.”

“But she’s happy for the wrong reason!”

“She doesn’t know that,” said Teri, defensively.

“Wouldn’t you want to know?” the man argued. “Would you want to be kept in limbo like this?  Even if you didn’t know it yourself, would you want everyone to put on a show for you?”

“You don’t understand.  We’ve tried to tell her.  I got the girls together last month and we told her.  She absolutely lost it.  She was hysterical.  Smashed a window and kicked a hole in the wall and broke things… I couldn’t see her like that again.  I couldn’t do it to her.”

“It’s hard, I know, but you’ve got to try again.”

“It didn’t work, Mark!” Teri yelled.  “She didn’t remember!  She never remembers.  It’s like she just thinks it’s the same week over and over.  I had to take the date off of Jeremy’s letter so she would only see ‘Sunday’.”

“How long has it been like this?”

“A few months.”

“Jesus.  How do you keep it up?”

“It’s hard sometimes.  Lying to her is the hardest part.  The window I had replaced and the wall I fixed and painted over; things like that aren’t difficult to hide.  But every time I put the dinner she made in the fridge and write her that note….I don’t know how long I can keep it up, Mark, I really don’t.”

“Maybe if she figured it out on her own.  Maybe, if you didn’t go over there tonight, she would wake up in the morning and see everything and begin to understand.  Maybe that’s the answer.”

“Maybe…”

“What would keep you from just walking home right now?  Why couldn’t you try that?”

“I just… I just don’t want to lose her.  This could kill her, Mark, it really could.”

“And you think you’re saving her this way?”

“…Maybe I am.  Please, just don’t say anything.  Not yet.  She said you have been acting strangely.”

“I can’t help it.  It’s just wrong.”

“Just please, Mark, don’t tell her yet.  Not yet.”

“Fine.” Mark began to part ways with Teri, crossing the street back to his car. “You just do what you think is best, Teri.”

Teri watched him go, then she turned around to face the walkway to a house with a light still on inside.  Through the window a woman lay sleeping on the couch, the blue flashes of a T.V. reflecting upon her face.

Teri walked up to the door.  For a moment she hesitated, her hand on the doorknob.  She wanted so badly to walk away.

She turned the knob slowly and went inside, closing the door silently behind her. 

My World

 Hey everyone!  Thanks to all who have been reading my stories.  As a writer trying to get off the ground, I appreciate every view, comment, and critique I can get.  I will do my best to post one story a week.  Please let me know what you think of them or if you have any specific requests.  And hey, if you like 'em, tell your friends!

And with that, here is my fifth story.  Hope you enjoy.    

The sun shone in his face through the trees, nearly blinding him.  Wind swept past his ears, whistling obnoxiously.  He managed a few glances at the “cute” couples laughing childishly over on the grass, sitting on pathetic blankets to protect them from nature’s germs.  “How naïve they are,” he thought.  He smirked bitterly as he ruminated upon his great wealth of knowledge; his recent enlightenment.  He was of a higher caliber.  They were so blissfully unaware of this world’s secret intentions to knock you down and then turn its back on you.  “They will have a rude awakening one day,” he thought.

But not himself; oh no!  He had been inaugurated into the ranks of those who had experienced life’s ultimate truth, and tasted reality’s bitter sting of cruelty.  Everyone would eventually join him, and though he knew this, he felt superior for realizing it so early on.  “I deserved that spot.  Everyone thought so.  I worked for it for years and years and somehow it eluded me.  Though, I should’ve been expecting it.”  Fairness was a fictional lie created to inspire hope in those too stupid to see through its transparent façade.  

A child sped past him on a bike, nearly knocking him into a trash can.  He cursed and then yelled after the child who seemed too afraid to look back at him.  For a moment he looked as if he would give chase, but then slowed and decided against it, kicking a dented can on the ground as hard as he could. “Where are you now, Karma?” He said aloud. “Have I not worked towards this?  Have I not given myself to this cause?” He looked out to the lake at the sailboats bobbing preposterously upon its surface, like little toys in a tub. “Did they all deserve those boats, Karma?” he asked. “Or did they just come upon them purely by luck, as you and I both know to be the truth?”

Laughter pierced his concentration.  He turned around with a growl and grimaced at the family a ways behind him sitting on a hill.  The woman and kid cackled as the man stumbled about, trying to pry a stuffed plaything from their dog’s mouth. “Just let him have it,” he grumbled. “He doesn’t want anything to do with you.  Let him have it and then tell your son all about life’s endless joys; all the wonderful things he will experience.  But don’t tell him the truth – goodness no!” The truth was an evil thing that popped all our silly little bubbles that held all our silly little preconceived notions of things like “fairness” and “equality”.  What a tragedy that would be!

He caught the eye of a lone man on a bench, dirty looking – probably homeless. “Lazy bum,” he thought. “Get some decent clothes, maybe then someone will want to be within ten feet of you.”

He suddenly noticed how stiff his own suit felt – how fake and restricting it was.  Why did this impress people?  Why was this a symbol of someone’s status?  Did he not get the spot because of his suit?  Did his boss not approve of his style and thus, because of it, offer the position to someone else?

He ripped the jacket from his body and tossed it in the trash.  He crumpled his tie and threw it carelessly to the ground.

Moments later he found himself standing on the edge of the pier, looking down into the water, watching his doppelganger mock him from below.  The irritatingly gleeful giggles of children pinched at him from all sides. “Shut up!” he thought.  A mother cooed to her bawling baby, as if it was the only thing to stop its incessant wails. “Control your stupid kid!” he said aloud.  He turned around and saw a group of adolescents sitting in a circle, chirping and banging on instruments of which they surely thought was the road to some kind of “music”.

And then he felt the rage boil inside him and he couldn’t take it anymore.  It was time to end it all. 

He jumped from the pier and the noise and the light of the park subsided instantly as he was submerged beneath the surface.  

Her son’s laughter spread over her like a warm, rolling wave.  He roared and then sputtered and nearly choked at his inability to control his exuberant display while his mother patted him on the back, smiling and laughing along with him.  His father – her husband – tumbled around on the grass as he unsuccessfully tried to retrieve their Labrador’s favorite toy from the dog’s locked jaws.  The two tugged and pulled and growled and flopped about while the observers held their sides at the spectacle.  Eventually the dog obtained the stuffed rabbit – now with much less stuffing – and pranced over to the mother and child, laying down to chew on the spoils of war while they scratched behind his ears.

The mother watched the man crawl back up the hill as if a wounded soldier, causing her son to once again burst out in laughter.  They exchanged bright, meaningful smiles just before the father gave a death cry and put his face down in the grass, defeated at last. “There isn’t a better dad in the world,” thought the mother.

The afternoon sun was still high and the tree nearest them offered speckled bits of shade through its branches.  The clouds overhead were big and puffy and white and the woman thought she couldn’t remember a day so beautiful.  Music floated over to them and she turned to see a circle of cheerful teens, playing guitars and tambourines and singing in wonderful harmony. “How great it is to see kids appreciating a gorgeous day like this,” she thought.

On a bench just down the hill from them she saw a man hunched forward, gray hair spilling from his fedora, wearing old, worn-out looking clothes and staring silently off into space. “I wonder if he is appreciating this beautiful day,” she thought. “I hope so.”

Just then she saw a man a ways away do something peculiar. “Look at that, honey!” she said. “What’s he doing?”

The man in question had torn off his suit jacket and tie and thrown them in the trash.  He then began to jog towards the lake. “How odd!” her husband said.  And then, “Look at all the boats on the lake today!”

“I see!” she said. “Do you see them, Tommy?  All the white sails?”  The boy nodded happily and smiled.

Her husband came up to lie next to her on the hilltop.  He took her hand in his and squeezed it.  She felt the breeze pass gently through her hair and heard the laughter of children nearby.  The sweet voice of a mother spoke soothingly to her crying child and there was a distant splash in the lake; no doubt kids jumping off the pier.  The mother closed her eyes and tried to think of a time when she had been more content in her entire life.  She could think of none.          

   The man swung his foot in a low arc and connected with a discarded can lying innocently on the sidewalk.  The severed pop-top rattled metallically inside while the can bounced again and again and landed gently upon the grass just a few feet away from a recycle bin. “I bet he won’t even glance at it as he passes,” thought an observer sitting on a bench; an older man with long, graying hair and a scraggly beard. “That’s alright.  I’ll get it later.  He’s probably too involved in his own life to notice.  We all are sometimes.”

The can-kicking man began to grumble to himself and then looked straight at the man on the bench.  He scowled and walked on. 

“I wish I could have a thousand more days just like this,” the old man thought. “And there that young guy is, wasting such a day on useless anger.  What good has anger ever done for anyone?” He watched the man rip off his suit jacket and throw it violently away. “He will regret that later, when he comes to his senses.”

For a while after that the older man did not think of much at all.  He merely listened and watched.  He wished he could hold the sun in the sky and prevent it from sinking.  He wanted to be young again and go join the circle of kids playing music. 

And then the memory came back to him, cold and stinging.  He heard her laugh in the rustle of the trees, saw her smile on the face of a young boy laughing with his parents atop a hill.  He wanted to tell everyone the same thing.  He wanted to warn them, to explain his own greatest mistake so that they may avoid it, even if they already knew to do so.

He felt the slow ticking of time in his veins with each pulse of blood.  An infant began to cry and he remembered how he would get so frustrated with his own daughter when she wouldn’t stop crying. “Just let me go to sleep,” he would say. “Please let me go to sleep.”  But now he wanted to go up to the mother and tell her not to worry about the crying, but to appreciate every second of it.  Crying meant life, and life was the most precious thing on earth. “Too few realize that too late,” he thought. “Too few…”

Some days he wondered if he would ever be able to laugh again like those children in the distance.  Or was it all too much to recover from?  His mistakes; had they taken their toll at last?  Had he been robbed of joy just as he learned to truly appreciate it? 

But those days were gone – the days where he wondered these things.  Now he merely accepted the damage and dealt with it.  He no longer guessed at how many days he had left or how many he had wasted in his youth, but simply took everything in that he could; the way the boats skimmed the surface of the lake, leaving trails that fanned out behind them, and the swaying of the branches whose leaves painted playing shadows upon the concrete of the winding walkway.

Most of all he watched people.  He watched them without jealousy or envy, but with a heavy heart, knowing that they might make the greatest mistake of all – the one he had made – and not realize just what they had when they had it, but after it was gone. 

He looked over to the pier just in time to see a man jump in the lake, still wearing nice suit pants and a button up shirt.

“What I wouldn’t give to have his problems,” thought the man on the bench. “I would take his problems and laugh at them and then trample them as I went on with my life.”

The man in the suit came to the surface and swam, sputtering frantically, to the shore.  He placed his hands on his knees and panted, staring at the ground dejectedly. “Perhaps my daughter could have given him advice,” the man thought. “Or at least shown him how it’s done.”

New Message

My phone was silent, and had been for the past hour.  I anticipated the buzzing, watched the area where the little light would become red and foretell of a new message.  It always lit up just a moment before the phone itself would quake and inform me of the message’s arrival by the appearance of a small envelope on the screen. 

I had seen that envelope so many times before; flipped open my phone and thought little of it as I read through the text.  I never waited for texts.  I never sat at my desk for hours pretending to be occupied with something on my computer while actually covering up the fact that I was waiting for a message, glancing at my phone every few seconds.  Maybe it vibrated and I didn’t hear it.  Maybe there was a message waiting for me already and I hadn’t noticed.  I should check and see if there’s anything…

Would she even know who I was?  Would she remember me?  I had sent a text hours ago, but there had been no response.  I couldn’t help it; I could focus on nothing else.  I pictured us walking along the lakeside, talking about nothing in particular, maybe even not speaking at all.  I would be fine with that.  All I wanted was to be beside her and be in her presence. 

My mind ventured into the darkest corners of Dreadful.  What if I never got to see her?  What if this was it and I was just kidding myself?  She could be somewhere else by now, somewhere completely different, and I would never get the chance to say the things I needed to or tell her how I felt… How much I loved her.  Maybe she would never know.   

I snapped back to the present and let my terrible thoughts drift away.  I looked down at my phone, unblinking in anticipation.  When would I hear from her?  What would she say?  Was I stupid to think she would say what I desperately wanted her to?  I would kill for a “Hey, come say hello :)” or even a simple request like “Bring flowers”.

I gripped the armrests of my chair and swiveled back and forth, clenching my jaw.  I knew I shouldn’t dwell on it, but right now it was the only thing that existed to me.  Concentrating on my phone, I tried to make it vibrate completely from will.  Text me, I thought.  Text me, please text me, just say something please.

I nearly fell out of my chair when my phone started buzzing.  I scrambled for it, dropping it on the floor and diving to retrieve it. 

It was a call.  It was her.

I flipped my phone open with a trembling thumb. 

“Hello?” My voice sounded dry and nervous.

“Hi,” She said.  She was calm.  I didn’t know whether this should help my nerves or make things worse.

“So?” I asked.  She knew what I meant.

“Everything’s fine.  It’s okay.” She said this in a deep, relieved sigh, and I could tell my sister was smiling from the tone of her words.

My stomach flipped. “Are you serious?” I said.

“Yes, they say she will make a full recovery.  The damage to her memory will only be temporary.  She recognized me just a little while after she was out of the E.R.”

“Can I come?”

“Of course.  Mom’s waiting.”