Laps Amongst The Douglas Fir

By Deontre Sawyer

CHAPTER 1

“Because I always feel like running. Not away, because there is no such place. Because if there was, I would have found it by now. Because it is easier to run. Easier than staying and finding out you are the only one who did not run. Because running will be the way your life, and mine, will be described; as in ‘the long run,’ or as in ‘having given someone a run for his money,’ or as in running out of time…”

Gil Scott-Heron

The old man could not help but feel like he was running out of time; forced to recollect past experiences; haunted by past mistakes. Burdened by his decision to leave his mother behind for aspirations of a college education and successful writing career only to come up short; dropping out of school his junior year and failing to produce anything worth publishing; being reduced to a low budget freelance writer for bottom of the barrel magazines and newspapers that occasionally played saxophone until he began experiencing arthritis. Joseph Saunders had been running for quite some time. 

He had recently returned home to San Francisco due to his mother’s, Josephine Saunders’ request. It was her dying wish. He occupied his mother’s house for several weeks; struggling to connect and be present; uncomfortable in a place he called home many years ago. A place where he was once close with his mother and brother, Rudolph Saunders. His mother was very caring and overprotective, while his brother specialized in tough love. The home where he had learned, played, fought, and grew; passed down by his grandparents, the home that hosted many Sunday dinners and other family events along with many holidays celebrated; but home for Joseph had not been the same since 1973.

Joseph sat quietly watching his mother lay sickly in her queen-size bed. Considered one of the prettiest women in her neighborhood a distant time ago; her once smooth brown skin aged by wrinkles and darkened due to the medications; her previously jet-black curls turned white before the chemotherapy, now she had a bald head that was usually covered by a bonnet or a scarf. Her bright green eyes now tired and dull due to all the chemo, Leucovorin, and other medications in a two-year failed attempt to cure the pancreatic cancer with which she was diagnosed. He caressed her flabby arm, being careful not to agitate her loose skin while noticing that she never rearranged anything in her master bedroom. The room still had the same cherrywood oak bed frame, two matching nightstands placed on opposite sides of the bed, and a dresser that hosted the same red bible with gold trimming to the pages. The bed was covered by the same quilt she made decades ago consisting of white, blue, and purple patchwork along with red stitching. The window located on the left side of the bed which was the side she slept on was covered with navy blue curtains. He walked in that direction to crack the window open. The windowsill was still occupied by small ornaments and other trinkets she had handcrafted when he was a child; a small boat to commemorate the first time she took him and his brother fishing, snow globes from different cities visited, a California Quail, a bear, and many others. 

After a moment of nostalgia, he walked towards the dresser to turn off her lamp, recognizing that sunset was approaching. He then reached in his pocket for his blue lighter and lit two lavender scented candles in hopes of relaxing his mother. As he lit the candles, the rich smells of the candle engulfed the tiny room. Everything was at peace. He kissed his mother on her forehead, then leaned over so his ear was above her mouth to check if she was still breathing.

“I’m still here Joseph,” she whispered weakly, coughing in between words, and barely having enough strength to speak. 

 “Good to hear Mama.”  He heard a faint chuckle.

Joseph sat in this time capsule of a room watching his mother sleep for close to two hours. The slight snoring from his mother indicated restfulness and peace. He wanted to believe she was pleased with him. He continued to stare at her, reminiscing about the long talks shared between them both, the plans, hopes and desires he discussed with her undying support, wishing he showed her the same support sooner, longing for time wasted; time wasted running. He watched the rhythm of her stomach rising and deflating with each breath; his leg falling asleep over time. He projected himself out of the rocking chair to walk around. Passing by the dresser to blow out the candles, a piece of paper under her alarm clock caught his eye. He picked up the paper to see what it was.

It happened to be a note. The writing was barely legible, resembling the penmanship of an elementary school student first learning to write in cursive. The note read:

June 1^st, 1963

Dear Mama Jo,

I hear you crying every night. Just want you to know 

that I will always be here for you, no matter what. 

You don’t have to cry anymore. 

With Love,

-Joseph

He could not believe that his mother kept that note he wrote such a long time ago. He was overwhelmed with appreciation. He imagined she cried every night because they were poor, and his father left before he spoke his first words. He meant every word in that note, even at eight years old. The note also made him feel that he failed her, leaving every time things became difficult. 

He suddenly noticed that his mother’s snoring had stopped. Confused, he turned the lamp on to investigate further. Her eyes and mouth were closed, her body stiff and lifeless. Her breathing ceased. 

“Not yet Mama!”  His voice squelched as he pleaded and struggled to hold back tears. But it was too late. His mother died as he selfishly focused on his own misery, torturing himself with thoughts of the past which left him drowning in sorrow and defeat with the realization that he could no longer run from what he feared most.

CHAPTER 2

Joseph contacted Thomas & Mary’s Funeral Home to inform them of the death of his mother. Thirty odd minutes later, three attendants arrived; a tall man of muscular build with blonde hair walked up to the door and knocked obnoxiously which irritated Joseph because the doorbell was in plain sight. He sat up aggressively from the couch and walked towards the door to greet the attendants. The attendant smiled awkwardly then coughed to clear his throat.

“Could you direct me to the deceased, Sir?”  The attendant could tell his request was completely insensitive and he instantly regretted it. A shorter, huskier funeral home attendant with curly hair intervened before Joseph was able to respond.

“Chill man, that’s his mother.”

The muscular attendant stared embarrassed. Joseph could not tell if it was because he knew he was being inconsiderate, or because the other attendant talked to him in such a stern manner. Either way, Joseph decided it was best to move forward.

“It is quite all right gentlemen; my mother is in this last room to the left. Follow me.”  Joseph directed the two attendants to the room where his mother died. As he opened the door, a very eerie feeling came over him. Not knowing what to do next, he decided to sit in the rocking chair.

“Brad, you and Tim bring in the stretcher,” the muscular attendant barked, reestablishing order.

Brad chuckled before responding. “No problem, Shawn.”

Shawn proceeded to pace around the room while cracking his knuckles. Joseph could tell he wanted to make conversation, but he was in no mood to talk. Of course, Shawn ignored his silent efforts.

“Did she go in her sleep?”

Joseph hesitated to answer, mainly because he was not sure how she died due to him being intrigued with his childhood note. He started to have visions of her attempting to get his attention, her voice too weak to call his name. Several questions ran through his mind. Was her outcome inevitable? Could he have done something to change it? Noticing Shawn blinking fast while staring at him, he realized that he never answered him. 

“I suppose so, Shawn. I suppose so.”  Joseph gathered his footing to walk outside. 

Walking towards the front door, which was left open, Joseph saw clouds of smoke in the air. Brad and the other attendant decided to take a smoke break. The attendant that never came into the house motioned his hand in Joseph’s direction. Joseph could see the box of cigarettes in the attendant’s hand as he continuously smacked the bottom of the box. He accepted the gesture and walked towards the two attendants standing by the white van with Thomas & Mary’s Funeral Home painted in green on the side. 

“Sorry for your loss my man,” the unknown attendant said to Joseph, offering him a cigarette. He was a tall, dark-skinned man with an extremely long beard. Joseph accepted the cigarette, placing it in his mouth while the attendant lit it for him. 

“Appreciate that young man. Just what I needed to take the edge off. What is your name?”

“Tim, Sir.”

The two continued to smoke in silence. Once Joseph was about halfway through with his cigarette, he decided he had enough. 

“Thanks again for the smoke Tim.”

“Don’t mention it, this is a tough time for you.”

“Indeed.” 

Tim reached into his jacket pocket and handed Joseph a cigar and a business card. Joseph nodded in appreciation and placed both items in his pants pocket.

Joseph and the two attendants suddenly heard yelling from inside the house. 

“Come on Tim! Shawn told us to bring in the stretcher ten minutes ago,” Brad shouted. He then yelled at Shawn notifying him that they were on the way. Tim blew out smoke while flicking his cigarette in the street, then proceeded to the back of the van, rolling out the stretcher. Brad began to walk back towards the house, mumbling obscenities about Shawn as Tim followed wheeling the stretcher inside.

CHAPTER 3

 The funeral was scheduled for the following week, which would allow family and friends of Josephine Saunders enough time to travel to attend. It would be an open casket ceremony at the church she joined decades ago; a typical “First Baptist” church. Joseph filed the life insurance claim and reviewed his mother’s will to ensure everything met her final wishes. She would be buried by his older brother Rudolph Saunders who died in 1974. The possessions she left behind, though few, would be easy to disseminate due to the fact he was her last surviving family member, but he still decided he would contact a lawyer to be sure. 

Alone in his room, Joseph replayed the last moments that he had with his mother. It was an eerie feeling being in the house alone. He had not been alone there since high school. Even when he visited in the past he always stayed in a hotel. His mother said he had unbecoming habits: drinking, smoking, and random women. The thought crossed his mind to go to the local corner store and grab a twelve pack, but it was way past the time they stopped serving alcohol. He remembered his mother fancied a glass of brandy on rare occasions when he was younger. He decided to check the cupboard for a bottle. 

Walking down the hallway opened up a memory box for Joseph; from baby pictures, team pictures, prom, graduation, everything from the past was there filling those walls. One picture startled him. It was a picture of him and “the one that got away.”  Her name was Nora Phillips. 

She looked gorgeous in the photograph; a petite brown skinned girl with her hair curled wearing a pink dress that matched her fingernails. She was holding a group of Douglas Fir flowers they had picked at a field. He remembered her younger sister, Joyce, taking the picture. They decided to have a picnic to celebrate Joseph’s acceptance into Lincoln University. He grabbed the picture from the wall and headed to the kitchen to complete the previous mission of finding some kind of alcohol to consume. 

Joseph went to the cupboard where he remembered his mother keeping her liquors and wines. She used to keep bottles for entertainment, but he rarely saw her drinking. 

He found two bottles of Merlot and a bottle of Courvoisier Gold. He grabbed a glass from the top cabinet across from the fridge, got some ice from the freezer, and poured the Courvoisier Gold in the glass. Taking an initial sip, he realized his tolerance was not where it used to be. He found some Ginger ale in the fridge and added a splash. With a drink in one hand, the picture of Nora in the other, he headed back towards his old room.

In his old room he kept a collection of vinyl’s that he could not fit in his apartment in Philadelphia. He figured some music could put him in a better mood. He placed the drink and the picture on a bare dresser and searched through the collection to see what he had there. Sifting through record after record, he came across Gil Scott-Heron’s “Winter in America,” and was pleased with his discovery. He placed the record on the record player. Light crackling was followed by notes from a piano and Gil’s raspy voice belting out “peace goes with you brother.”  Despite the circumstances, this was the best possible end to the night, sipping his beverage slowly to one of his favorite records.

Joseph finished his drink in the middle of the song “A Very Precious Time.”  The glass was vexingly cold. He wanted another drink despite not being in the mood to get up and prepare one. The song made him think about Nora.

He missed Nora and thought about her often; too often. With Gil singing “…was it your first love? A very precious time,” and the picture right in front of him, he took a moment to reflect on the good times. Then the memory of her beginning to distance herself from him during his first semester at Lincoln and her eventual absence interrupted those good thoughts. He pushed the picture away from the desk and watched it hit the glass. This triggered him to get up and prepare another drink. 

Joseph went back down to the cupboard in the kitchen to grab the bottle of Courvoisier Gold. As he made another drink, he remembered the cigar he received from Tim in his pocket. He took the drink and headed to the porch. 

Smoking and drinking outside he began to feel angry that his mother was no longer alive. He finished the drink in two gulps; his throat burned as he hoped the alcohol would get rid of the pain or at least blur the memory. Blowing the smoke from the cigar into the wind, he went back and forth in his head about what he could have done differently this day. What he could have done differently in life in general. He often had to remind himself not to live in the past, but some experiences, especially this one, he could not help himself. His lungs could not manage smoking the whole cigar. He flicked the remaining ashes and placed the cigar on the arm of the chair he was sitting in. Struggling to get up from the chair and stumbling to the door was a good indicator that his night was over. 

Joseph managed to make it to his room. Feeling slightly dizzy, he got undressed while struggling to keep his balance. He stumbled over to the record player to restart the Gil Scott-Heron record over. Finally laying down, he began to drift in memories. He heard Gil singing “…was there a touch of spring, and did she have a pink dress on?”  The music and singing grew faint as the thoughts of Nora took over his mind.

Before the picnic, Joseph met Nora at a corner store on Kearney St. They had a math class together, but he could never muster up enough courage to spark a conversation with her. He once asked her for a pencil; the sharp pitch in her voice stung as she snapped “I only brought one!”  But the perfect opportunity presented itself as she was short of cash at the register. 

Nora placed a pack of bubblegum, ChapStick, and a crème soda near the cash register. 

“That will be four dollars miss,” the cahier stated. He stared at her intensely as she fumbled around in her cardigan pocket to find the correct currency. Growing impatient, the cashier looked up at the roof and huffed. “I said four dollars, please.”  

Confident she did not have the money; Joseph stepped in front of her and placed a five-dollar bill on the counter. “No need to be rude, Sir,” he said while extending his hand for change. He could tell this gesture further irritated the cashier; his chubby pale face started to turn red, matching his ginger hair. The cashier ignored Joseph’s hand and placed his change on the counter, disregarded placing the items in the bag, then walked away mumbling something rude. None of these actions bothered Joseph because he was certain he made his dream girl’s day. Wrong.

As Joseph tried to gather the items to give to Nora, she pushed him aside and grabbed them herself. “I did not need your help! And you did not have to be rude to that man.”

Joseph was confused and slightly agitated. “He was being rude to you first, and obviously you did need my help. You were reaching for nothing but lint in those pockets. I just wanted to…”

“Save it!”  Nora dropped all the purchased possessions on the white and black tiled floor; the crème soda exploding and spraying all over Joseph and the floor making a huge mess. She stormed out while the cashier stormed back in screaming obscenities. Joseph offered to assist cleaning with the cashier, but the efforts were ignored by more curse words and vigorous mopping. Ashamed and embarrassed, Joseph walked out of the store into the bright San Francisco afternoon, leaving his pride and dignity in that store. 

A ringing telephone awakened Joseph and interrupted the memory.

“Hello?”  Joseph answered inquisitively. 

“Hello Mr. Saunders. This is Shawn from Thomas & Mary Funeral Home.”

“Oh, hello Shawn. How can I help you?”

“Just wanted to confirm the details of your mother’s funeral if that’s alright with you?”

“Sure.”

“Ok Mr. Saunders. Looks like we have availability for Thursday, April 15^th at 11AM.”

“Yes, that’s perfect.”

“Great. Will you be able to come in later today to pick out a casket and discuss other arrangements?”

“Yes Sir, I can come in around two or three.”  

“Perfect, see you then Mr. Saunders.”

The thought of his mother being gone still did not seem real to Joseph. His mind drifted in memory of her as the vinyl he played last night continued to scratch indicating the end of the record. He finally noticed and rose from the bed to stop it.

Joseph had a few hours before his meeting at the funeral home. He decided to make breakfast and start the day. He found eggs, bacon, cheese, spinach, and tomatoes in the fridge, along with creamer. He decided to make an omelet and to get some coffee brewing in the pot. After making his breakfast and coffee, he sat at the table to eat, but the feeling of loneliness was overwhelming. After finishing his omelet, he took his coffee outside.

He sat in the rocking chair on the porch, admiring the day while dreading the calls he would have to make soon. He not only had to deal with the hysterics of certain family members, but he also knew he would have to face the backlash of his absence from the family. He decided he would start the calls after his coffee.

His first notification was to his Aunt Margaret. He heard her faint voice answer, nervous to relay the news of her older sister.

“Hey Aunt Margaret, its Joseph.”

“Joseph?” she responded confusingly. “My, it has been so long since I have heard from you, close to ten years. How is everything nephew?”  

“I know it’s been a while, and I apologize to be calling you with such bad news, but my mother died yesterday.”

“Oh lord, Joseph. I am so sorry to hear that. How are you holding up? Are you alone? You really should not be alone. Me and your uncle can come out there as soon as you need us.”

“I am maintaining Aunt Margaret. I have to go to the funeral home later today. The funeral will be April 15^th so you can plan for around that time.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything.”

A long silence occurred after this statement. Joseph could hear her sobbing in the background, along with his uncle walking in asking what was wrong. His uncle’s bolstering voice ended the silence on the line.

“Nephew, you all, right? I know losing your mother is tough at any age. You need anything?”

“Hey Uncle Ted, I am fine, well as fine as possible. Could you do me a favor and let the rest of the family know? I have to go to the funeral home later. I will let a few of her church friends know.”

“Yes, of course Nephew. Take care of yourself, ok? Me and your Aunt Margaret will get out there on the 12^th, all right?

“Yes, that is fine. You two can stay with me here but inform everyone else to book hotels. The house is not big enough for everybody.”

“Yes Sir, we’ll talk later Nephew.”

Joseph got off the phone and contacted the church his mother was a member of to inform them of her death and to inquire about hosting the funeral there, followed by a gathering. After receiving confirmation, he began getting dressed and headed to his meeting.

CHAPTER 4

Joseph grabbed his mother’s car keys to a burgundy Chrysler Concorde and headed out the door. He became overwhelmed after entering the car. The interior still carried the scent of his mother. He also saw an old picture of him, his mother, and his older brother Rudolph in the corner of the dashboard. Putting the car in reverse, he realized it had been some time since he had driven a car, especially since living in Philadelphia. He panicked as he put the car in reverse, jerking frantically as he backed out of the driveway. “Get it together Joseph,” he whispered to himself as he shifted gears and drove out of the neighborhood. 

After a very skeptical transit, Joseph finally arrived at Thomas & Mary Funeral Home, a small red brick building with a white and black sign in the grass close to the curb. He parked crookedly in the parking lot across from the side entrance. He took a long breath, exited the car, and walked up the curved sidewalk towards the front of the building. As he entered, he was greeted by a receptionist, an older woman with gray hair and big brown glasses with a gold chain attached to the sides.

“Good afternoon, Sir. How can I help you?”

“Yes Ma’am, I have an appointment with Shawn.” 

“Alright Sir, if you can just have you take a seat in the waiting area, he will be out in a second. What is your name Sir?”

“Joseph Saunders.”

Joseph walked towards the dark waiting area and took a seat. The décor was outdated; a blue and red rug with coordinating chairs, a wood coffee table in the center, cream walls with blue and red wallpaper trimmings all around. The chair he sat in was uncomfortable. He looked at the magazines placed on the coffee table and discovered they were all at least three or four years old but decided to still look at them to pass time. After flipping through several pages, Shawn finally came out to greet him. 

“Mr. Saunders!” Shawn greeted him warmly.  “Follow me to my office please.”  

Joseph rose from his uncomfortable seat and followed Shawn down a long dark hallway filled with family portraits, inspirational quotes, and bible verses all hanging on the wall inside gold framing. 

Shawn’s office resembled the poorly decorated and outdated waiting area. He motioned for Joseph to take a seat in one of the chairs in front of a mahogany desk as he took a seat behind it. He pulled a manilla folder from a drawer and took out some forms for Joseph’s signature. 

“So, you are set for April 15^th at 11AM. Is that still a good time for you Mr. Saunders?”

“Yes, that’s fine.”

“And you opted out of a viewing the day prior?”

“Yes Sir. Would like to get this over with sooner rather than later.”

“Completely understand Sir. Anytime is a tough time to lose a mother.”

The room grew silent; Joseph fidgeting awkwardly with his hands while Shawn rummaged through paperwork.

“We have many options for floral arrangements, Mr. Saunders. Is there anything you are looking for in particular?”

“Lilies. My mother loved lilies. I am fine with whatever arrangements if those are in there.”

“No problem, Sir. We will get right on that. And we have your mother’s policy information, so we are good there. I just need you to sign these forms and we will be done for now.”

Joseph took the forms and scribbled his signatures. He shook Shawn’s hand and thanked him before leaving the building. As he walked outside, he was thankful to be one step closer to moving past this horrendous experience.

The drive was a blur; tree after tree, building after building, light after light. Joseph could not wait to get home and just shut down for the day. Continuing the drive, he approached another yellow light and decided to slow down in anticipation of the light turning red quickly. He sat there mulling over how the next few days would go and how things would be without his mother; horrible, he presumed.  Waiting for the light to turn green, he recognized a sign on a building to his right. “O’Leary’s Corner Store,” in red lettering with a whitish background that had begun to turn beige due to how old the sign was. The visual took him back to that embarrassing interaction with Nora. 

For weeks, the exchange between Joseph and Nora haunted him. He replayed the event over and over in his mind, contemplating how things could have gone better. Maybe putting money on the counter was pretentious of him. He could have asked first, or maybe he should have just minded his business and picked another opportunity to talk to her.

Approaching a month since the incident at the store and Joseph and Nora were still ignoring each other at school. Joseph walked down random hallways whenever he saw her approach. He also took alternate routes to class. In the math class they had together, whenever he glanced her way Nora would roll her eyes and look the other way.

One day in class after the students completed a quiz, the teacher instructed all the students to exchange quizzes to grade themselves. Somehow, Joseph ended up with Nora’s. Before working himself into a frenzy, he decided to trade quizzes with another student; but as he tapped the student in front of him the teacher began to call out answers. He was stuck, mortified at the idea of her embarrassing him in front of the whole class.

He continued grading Nora’s quiz. She missed a few questions, enough to qualify her for a C. He considered changing all the questions she missed but quickly remembered the last time he tried to help her out; but he also figured if he were discreet about it, she would not know. He changed three answers that she got wrong, getting her to a B+, before the teacher commanded the quizzes to be passed to the front of the class. He was relieved he did not have to personally hand her the quiz.

After school, Joseph went home. Upon arrival, he went straight to his room and decided to write Nora a note. He was tired of the awkwardness and figured even if she never spoke to him again, at least she would know how he felt. He spent the whole night making sure the note was perfect; writing followed by editing, then rewriting, even critiquing his own handwriting. He went to sleep hopeful that this would smooth things over.

The next morning, Joseph went to the same corner store to make the same purchase: bubble gum, ChapStick, and a crème soda, then drove to school. He ensured that the items were packed neatly in a brown paper bag before exiting the car and entering school.

Joseph approached Nora at her locker before first period started. He was not as confident in his plan as he was the previous night and figured that if this did not work, at least the embarrassment would be witnessed by a minimal number of people. 

“Good morning, Nora,” Joseph said nervously. She stopped reaching around in her locker for books and turned her head towards him. It was painfully obvious that she was very annoyed.

“What do you want?”

“Look, I am not trying to disturb you. I just wanted to apologize for the other week.”  Joseph extended his hand with the brown paper bag towards her. She took the bag, peeked inside of it, then placed it in the top compartment of her locker.

“Ok, Joseph.”  Nora slammed her locker door closed and walked away as Joseph stared confusingly, thinking as her distance grew further so did his chances of ever having any form of relationship with her.

In the distance, Joseph suddenly heard an excessive car horn blasting, suddenly realizing he had been holding up traffic. Two cars drove around him; the drivers staring aggressively as they passed and making inappropriate hand gestures. He got himself together and continued his drive to his mother’s house.

CHAPTER 5

The day was gloomy, and the rain fell heavily, quite fitting for the mood of the occasion. Joseph climbed to the back of a black limo joined by his Aunt Margaret and Uncle Ted. Joseph was extremely uncomfortable; he was paranoid that his suit was more gray than black, his pants felt too long but the sleeves on his jacket felt too short, his shirt was itchy, and he settled on a black tie with a white and gray zig zag pattern that he absolutely hated. His uncle noticed him fidgeting around in his seat and grew concerned.

“Are you good, nephew?”

“Not really. Just want to make it through this day.”

“I understand.”  Uncle Ted reached out and touched Joseph’s knee in a weak effort to console him. Then he held his wife’s hand as all the passengers rode in silence for the remainder of the trip. The limo followed closely behind the hearse and police escorts while other cars trailed.

Everyone piled in two at a time as the ushers assisted them to the pews. Joseph was seated in the front row along with the other immediate family. It was an open casket ceremony, and Joseph could not muster the strength to look; he just kept his head down, staring at the picture on the front of the program. The picture used was from her twenties; it looked as if she was at some kind of ball, a dance, or a party. Her hair was curled, and she wore a red dress with pearl earrings and a matching necklace.

The choir, dressed in blue robes with yellow trim, took their positions on the stage and began to sing. After the singing, the preacher approached the podium and delivered his sermon. The sermon was followed by testimonials from friends and family of Josephine about her. Everyone expected Joseph to go up there and express himself, but he continued to just stare at the program sitting on his lap. He could feel the whole church watching him.

Everyone had the opportunity to see Josephine in the casket before they closed it for the final time. The line heading outside the building moved slowly as friends and family members said their goodbyes. Joseph moped towards his mother one last time. He reached out and placed his hand on hers, restfully crossed on her chest. Tears streamed down his face as he repeatedly whispered, he was sorry. Two ushers eventually escorted him to the limo headed to the cemetery.

The limo cruised through dark weather and slick roads due to heavy rain, making an abrupt stop once the driver reached the curb closest to the burial plot. Joseph wished he could run away, but opened the car door and exited gradually instead, pacing slowly towards the front row to watch his mother be buried. 

Joseph sat up straight, wiping his face as he watched pallbearers bring the casket to the center of the burial ground. Friends and family started filling in the seats behind him and everyone else in the front row. 

The paster emerged in front of the casket, his black and purple robe swaying with the aggressive wind.

“Please bear with me brothers and sisters. A little weather is not going to stop us from sending off Ms. Saunders the right way, am I right?”  The crowd offered applause and praises of amen. The pastor waited for everyone to settle down before he began to speak again. He started quoting a scripture; “John 14:1-3 says do not let your heart be troubled. You believe in God; believe also in me. My father’s house has many rooms; if that were not so, would I have told you that I am going there to prepare a place for you. I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am.”  He preached for a little while, then asked everyone to bow their heads in prayer. After the prayer, a woman sung a heartfelt solo. Once things seemed to conclude, the funeral attendant lowered the casket into the ground. Everyone threw a flower on the casket before leaving or congregating with other friends and family members. 

Joseph stayed a little while longer after throwing his single rose over his mother’s casket. He did not bother to shield himself from the steady rain falling. He just stood silently with his head in his chest. He did not feel like mingling with anyone. He wished he were alone. He felt a hand on his shoulder and defiantly moved away. Turning to face who it was, it was his Aunt Margaret. 

“Did not mean to startle you, Joseph. The limo is about to head back to the funeral home. Our car is there. You can ride with us to the repass if you want.”

“Sorry Aunt Margaret. I meant no disrespect. Just want to be alone right now. Think I am going to just go home.”  Joseph immediately felt a wave of people approaching him and his aunt.

“Oh, that is your home again now. What a convenience, Joseph,” a heavy-set woman said as she brushed past Joseph and his aunt and uncle. The dress she wore was hideous; all black with ruffles at the neck and sleeves, her legs covered by black stockings and all black closed toe shoes. The hat and veil made it hard for Joseph to recognize who it was.

“Say again, Ma’am?” Joseph inquisitively requested, waiting with irritation for the woman to reveal her face. The woman scoffed as she turned towards him and lifted her veil. Aunt Gladys. 

Joseph never liked Aunt Gladys, the middle sister of his mother Josephine and Aunt Margaret. She was always critical of him since he was a child; always asking his mother “why is Joseph so sensitive? “Why is Joseph so quiet? “Is something wrong with that boy? Is he special?”  She liked his older brother Rudolph more, and she let it be known whenever the opportunity presented itself.

“The nerve of this one!”  Aunt Gladys stared at Joseph with eyes that could have pierced through skin. “At least you came to this one. You did not have the decency to show up for your brother. Could not be bothered to come home then, could you? You are only back here because you do not have anything, and you are worth nothing!”

“This is not the time, Gladys!”  Joseph skin boiled with anger, an anger that has been brewing for decades.

“Gladys? Do you think because you are old now you do not have to respect me? I am still your aunt, boy!”

“You have not been my aunt in ages, GLADYS! And I am no boy.”

“Yes, you are less than that. You are a fucking coward!”

A crowd began to form around the argument. Most of the people were on Aunt Gladys’ side supporting and consoling her. The rest were just being nosy. Two men began escorting her away to deescalate, but she had more to say. 

“How much did she leave you Joseph? You could not even see your mother when she asked, but you made sure you were here when the end was near. Now you have a house, car, and some new money, huh Joseph. Pathetic! You do not deserve anything!”

Joseph stood there stunned and defeated without a rebuttal. He grew anxious and had to get out of that environment. He began to mumble as he plodded away, each step increasing in speed until he began to slowly run. His feet were stepping from the curb to the street, his only focus was the parking lot. He continued his transit, trotting through puddles and fighting against the wind and rain in his face, but he did not check his surroundings; and neither did the driver of a red Ford Focus.

Joseph was hit by the car at around 15mph. The loud thud alerted friends and family that were still there. Everyone rushed to his aid, even Aunt Gladys. 911 was contacted and an ambulance rushed there to get him to the hospital. Joseph rode in the back of the ambulance accompanied by Aunt Margaret and Uncle Ted constantly going in and out of consciousness.

CHAPTER 6

Joseph sat at his desk nervously twiddling his thumbs, regretting the note he wrote and the package he put together for Nora. Blankly staring ahead at the board, he caught a glimpse of a blue dress swaying past his desk. When she turned around, he saw it was Nora, smiling with the crème soda he purchased for her.

Joseph spent the remainder of the class overanalyzing what the smile or her bringing the drink with her to class meant. Did she accept his apology? Did she like him back? Was she just being evil and taunting him at this point to make things worse? He barely took any notes or remembered anything about the lesson. 

Before class was dismissed, the teacher passed the quizzes they took back. Joseph was not surprised when he saw 100% on the top right corner of the paper. He placed the quiz in a folder and packed up all his materials in his backpack. He rose once the bell rang and headed out of the class when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He looked back and saw Nora smiling and chewing bubble gum. 

“You mind walking me to my locker, Joseph?”

“Sure, of course,” Joseph answered hesitantly, curious to what her motive really was.

Nora handed him her books, and they exited the classroom together, walking side by side down the hallway, Joseph attempting to keep the same pace as her while keeping her books together and not getting caught stealing glimpses of her. As they approached her locker, Nora slowly turned towards Joseph. She caressed his arm then took her books from him.

“I’ll see you later, right?” Nora asked as she gently placed her books on the floor to open her locker.

“Uh, yes, sure. Just um, let me know when.”  In his mind, Joseph knew every one of his attempts to be cool was failing. He anxiously scratched his arm, unsure of what to do next. 

Nora wrote something on a piece of paper torn from a notebook inside her locker. She handed Joseph the paper, then gave him a hug.

“Call me so we can figure something out this weekend.”

“I will,” Joseph quickly answered, still stunned by the hug that just took place. 

Nora laughed as she walked past him. Joseph started walking in the opposite direction when he heard her call his name and instantly turned around.

“I know you hanged my answers too!”  She yelled as other students walked between them.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Joseph said, laughing while trying to respond. He turned around and continued down the hall. 

They were inseparable for the remainder of the school year; walking each other to classes, sharing lunches, tying up phone lines at their homes, dinner dates, drive in movie dates, ice cream dates, walks in the park; but Joseph’s favorite date was a picnic they planned before the summer ended and they headed their separate ways.  A windy afternoon in Point Reyes; a typical black and white square patterned blanket spread out on the grass with a basket full of sandwiches, grapes, and strawberries provided by Nora with sweet tea brought by Joseph. It was a pleasant time spent before the summer ended. In the middle of their picnic, Nora began teasing him about how arrogant he came across in the corner store during their first interaction and how nervous and jittery he was before they started dating. Joseph sprung up quickly and began to playfully chase Nora in the open field. As he caught her, they both fell in the grass. Blooms from Douglass Firs were in her hair. He gently kissed her cheek.

“I love you, Nora. I am going to miss you while you are away.”  He ran his fingers through her hair as she gazed deeply into his eyes. 

“I love you too. I will write as often as I can and I will see you every opportunity that I get, I promise.”  She ran his fingers across his face then passionately kissed his lips. 

When Joseph opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed, sore from the waist down, right leg in a cast, surrounded by medical equipment, nurses, a doctor, and Aunt Margaret and Uncle Ted. 

“What happened?”  Joseph struggled to speak, growing enormously annoyed with how restrained he was and everyone staring at him. 

“Mr. Saunders, welcome back,” the doctor responded, his voice slightly muffled due to his mask covering his mouth. “You were hit by a car yesterday; do you remember that?”

“Vaguely. How long am I in here for?”

“I would estimate another twenty-four hours or so. The accident did some considerable damage. Your right leg is broken, and we had to perform a hip replacement.”

“When will I be able to move on my own?”

“I would suggest finding some help around the house or staying with family until you are fully recovered. That will not happen for another four to six months, Sir.”  

“Four to six what?”  Joseph snarled and then sighed loudly in disgust. “I don’t want to stay with anyone that damn long.”

The doctor began to speak but was interrupted by Aunt Margaret. “Excuse me Sir, is there an option for an at home nurse for him?”

“Yes, his insurance would cover for such an arrangement. Is this something you are interested in Mr. Saunders?”

“I don’t want any strangers in my house all day.”  Joseph felt the piercingly sharp gaze from his aunt as he finished his statement. He wiped his face slowly with his hands, signaling that he conceded. “On second thought, that might work out better for me.”

“Alright then Mr. Saunders. We will have everything set up for you before you are discharged. If you need anything feel free to reach out.”

Joseph was released the following morning. Uncle Ted wheeled him out in his wheelchair as Aunt Margaret walked alongside him.

CHAPTER 7

For several weeks Joseph sat in his mother’s house miserable, half-heartedly participating in his own recovery. If it were not for his Aunt Margaret and the home nurse, his condition would have surely worsened. He was aggravated with how many people were around him daily and longed for the moment he could be in his own space to grieve; to think. He raised his hospital bed in anticipation of either the nurse or Aunt Margaret forcing him to take his medications. He hated that he was in this predicament; all because he again decided to run from a problem instead literally and figuratively of facing it or acknowledging it for what it was, complete nonsense. Maybe he could have spent more time with his mother, but that did not make him some user. Did it? And where was everyone else? It is not like anyone at that funeral broke their back to be. either.  His thoughts ran rampant as he fiddled with the ends of his white blanket. His thoughts were interrupted as heard the front door open. He groaned as he heard a woman’s voice speaking to Aunt Margaret and Uncle Ted. He clinched his sheets tighter, expecting his nurse, Camille Morgan, to enter the room and bother him. 

Camille knocked twice then asked for permission to enter. Joseph’s mean groan was her confirmation to go into the room.

“How are you today Mr. Saunders?”  She went over to touch his hand but decided against it after seeing how disgruntled he looked.

“I’m not dead, so I guess well enough.”

“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”  Camille took off her jacket and placed it on the neighboring chair. “Any pain in your leg or hip?”

“Not as much, how much. How much longer will you be here?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me? You are making great progress, believe it or not. In a few more weeks we should have you out of this bed and functioning on your own. You will need physical therapy though. I am going to wash my hands, then we will get started with the medications and some breakfast.”  Camille started to walk towards the bathroom but was halted by yet another groan from Joseph.

“What do I need physical therapy for? I am not an athlete. I just want to be alone in my house!”

“I understand your frustration Mr. Saunders. Everyone here is just trying to help. In a few weeks you will be out of bed. Physical therapy will help you regain strength and mobility in that leg and your hip.”  She expected a rebuttal but only heard a loud sigh of frustration. Over the weeks Joseph had been difficult for her and she had decided enough was enough. “Look Mr. Saunders, I understand being hit by a car and losing your mother can be traumatic experiences at any age, but I am only here to help. You want to be mean and rude towards me, that is fine. But I still have a job to do, and I am going to do it. You are responsible for your own recovery. Recovery and healing will be as fast as you make it. The sooner you comply and allow me to help, the sooner I will be out of your way.”  

Joseph stared blankly as Camille passionately expressed herself. At the conclusion of her rant, he simply nodded in agreement. She silently walked out of the room to wash her hands before administering the prescribed medications.

Camille came back into the room holding a wooden tray with breakfast for Joseph, scrambled eggs with mixed fruit and avocado toast. There was also a mug filled with green tea and lemon alongside a bottle of water. She opened the bottle of water and grabbed a paper cup with Joseph’s pills inside. 

“Here is your medication Mr. Saunders. Mrs. Margaret made breakfast for you. She gave me water and green tea, but if you want something else, I can see what she has.”

“This is fine, thank you.”  Joseph took the paper cup from Camille’s hand and drunk the water to help the pills go down easier. After, he began eating his breakfast. 

“I’ll let you get some time to yourself.”  Camille turned away and began walking towards the door when Joseph stopped her.

“Wait,” Joseph said before clearing his throat. After a brief pause, he began to speak again. “I want to apologize to you. I have been having a rough time, but that is no excuse for how I have been treating you. You are just trying to do your job. I appreciate your help and I will try to manage my frustrations better and be more cooperative.”

“I understand Mr. Saunders, and I accept your apology. Everything will be fine soon enough. I will be back in to check on you. If you need anything, let me know.”  Camille turned away from Joseph and left the room stunned that a man that mean had any amount of decency in him.

The day was filled with changing bed pans, bathing, changing of clothes, meals, checking vitals, and of course, medication. Camille completed her evaluation report to submit to Joseph’s doctor. He had an appointment scheduled in three weeks. As promised, Joseph was much easier to work with and contained his frustrations better.

Camille gave Joseph his medication for the night and some water with a fruit cup before leaving. “You are almost there Mr. Saunders. Just keep a cheerful outlook.”

Joseph began to groan then attempted to mask the groan by clearing his throat after remembering he would treat his nurse better. “Thank you, Camille, have a good night.”

“Good night, Mr. Saunders.”

Joseph was in his head most of the night. How weak of him to run away because his aunt said something he did not like; he did not even like her. What did it matter? Now he is confined to this room, leg in a cast, cannot move around on his own, and he needs assistance with the most basic human functions. All he had to do was ignore her. He replayed the events of the altercation in his mind repeatedly, cringing every time he got to the part where a red car struck him in the parking lot. 

He also thought about the next upcoming weeks until his doctor’s appointment. He felt bad for being so irritated at the idea of people being around him for the next couple of weeks. He knew his Aunt Margaret, Uncle Ted, all the medical staff, and even the people that randomly visited were all genuine and just wanted to assist with a safe and speedy recovery, but he desperately wanted to be left alone. “I can play nice for a few more weeks,” he mumbled as he used the remote to lay his bed down a little to get more comfortable.

Joseph struggled to find sleep, spending most of the night wondering about Camille of all people. Why did she bother him so much? She was nice. She did not talk much. She was genuinely nice to look at. What was it about her that always put him in a bad mood? The thought of Camille walking around in her tight white scrubs annoyed him. He just wanted some rest. Suddenly, he remembered a picture he received from Nora before leaving for her Army deployment. She had just finished her training and in the picture, she wore white scrubs.

By Deontre Sawyer