mry writes

*a story*

The old man glared up at one last leaf clinging to an otherwise bare maple tree. That annoying remaining leaf was swaying in the autumn breeze, seemingly oblivious to the lateness of the season.

“Waste of time, gathering up all the fallen leaves. Let them rot where they fall. That is what I should be doing. Mother knows how to take care of her own leavings. Nothing wasted with her. Ashes to ashes, leaves to dirt,“ he grumbled.

Jim did not see the sense in spending good energy messing with nature’s job. The leaves would soon enough be gone on their own. All he had to do was ignore them until the snow covered them. Come spring, they would be mostly decayed and gone. There were better things to do than chase dry old leaves blowing around the yard, especially since as soon as he went back inside that last damned leaf would decide it was time to fall.

Damn that old Maggie Miller! If not for her and her persnickety ways he would not be out in the chilly autumn air, bothering about a few dead leaves. If she was not so darn snooty about how neat and clean she kept her place, constantly telling him he ought to follow her good example so his leaves did not blow over to her yard, he would have things a lot easier. As if he controlled which way the wind blew. As if she could tell which leaves were from which tree.

As if he cared two bits about her near-constant stream of comments on his life and habits.

That darn old woman had a way of going on and on that was too darn close to being just like an old nagging wife. She should just let a man live in peace in whatever way he preferred.

He ought to stop listening to her. And one day -soon!- he would. Just you wait and see. More than twice Jim had sworn a binding resolution to himself, often right around about the point he could see the bottom of his whiskey glass, to resist her malign influence and run his own durn life in his own durn way and durn her if she did not durn well like it.

Jim stepped back a couple metres and glared up at the offending leaf. Maybe if he held the rake so it reached straight up over his head and made a bit of a jump upward he might snag that last stupid leaf. He would save himself another wasteful trip back outside when the dad-blamed thing finally decided to let loose and drop.

He stepped back and circled around under the fluttering spot of colour. Eyeing the angle, triangulating the distance and height, he tried to calibrate where to aim his rake. He was not real sure he could manage a second jump. He better get everything aligned just right for his one shot.

He grasped the rake handle near the butt end and slowly raised it high up above his head. He leaned back a bit to confirm his triangulation, but a spot of sun glare flashed into his eye. He brought his left hand up to shade his eyes and he leaned back a bit.

Just as he prepared to launch himself and the rake at the leaf he heard the screen slam on Margaret’s back porch. She had been poking her nose out from behind a frilly curtain all along. Of that he could be sure.

“James Joseph Johnson, you old fool! What in name of all that is sensible are you planning to do there?”

He tried to ignore her but she threw him off. He twisted slightly when he jumped, more like a hop, and his lean took him corkscrewing over backwards. He began an unplanned and uncontrolled descent to the leaf-free ground.

The rake followed him down on its own path of descent. The butt end of the rake’s handle landed smack dab in the middle of his forehead just as his head hit the ground. The rake tried to balance on his face, like a wobbling bowling pin. After a moment it apparently decided this was an untenable position. The rake clattered to the ground, its handle falling across his face and its tines dancing on the earth.

The rake handle shimmied and danced in counter-time to the flexing tines. The handle repeatedly bounced against his face while he lay on his back on the cold ground. His left leg twisted farther to the left than it should have and the back of his head was smashed against the ground by the repeated blows of the rake handle.

Everything went dark. When Jim again saw the light he felt the warm stickiness of blood oozing out of his nose. He closed his eyes. That felt better.

After an undefined bit of time, he felt his head being lifted from the ground. It was a strange feeling. His head seemed to be moving without any effort on his part. It was like some sort of out-of-body thing. Maybe he was dead.

He decided to tempt fate and discover if it was true that he just died. He carefully opened one eye. He immediately saw a familiar face just inches from his own.

Margaret was leaning over him. She was lifted his spinning head off the grass and onto her generous thighs. Jim almost felt disappointed that he was not doing that out-of-body thing.

“Stupid crazy fool,” she muttered. He knew he was meant to hear her imprecations.

He could not figure how she managed to get there so quickly. Margaret generally moseyed along at a slow and deliberate pace, calibrated to the nearest turtle.

The puzzle of Margaret’s newfound speed was quickly chased away by a strange sensation on his left side. He tried to straighten his body. He grimaced as a sharp pain scorched its way from his leg up to his woozy head.

Margaret saw his expression. She looked down at his leg and saw its peculiar position. She gasped. Margaret almost dropped his head right back onto the dirt. She regained her composure and carefully lowered his head to the ground.

“I will be right back. You need an ambulance, and a cold pack for your nose. You better not bother trying to get up and go anywhere before I get back.”

Just like a woman, he thought. Talking nonsense just to show who is in charge. Why bother, when there ain’t been a man alive in 2000 years who could have felt he was in charge, or even had a real say, with anything that involved a woman.

How he was supposed to go somewhere with a busted leg he could not guess. What, did she think he was going to go join a line dance at the Legion or something?

His head spun. Before things went black again his eyes caught a flash of reddish-orange over his head. That stubborn leaf fluttered on its branch, mocking him as a bit of autumn wind gusted by.

Inside, at a window in Jim’s upstairs back bedroom a small black feline adjusted her hind end, wiggling it to the right and then to the left as if to properly fold her skirts before settling down. It was her usual time to supervise the birds at the feeders.

The furkin watched the bit of drama unfolding down below. Any action that relieved the tedium of her day was interesting, so she paid close attention. She saw two humans, one of them hers and the other one the noisy one that came around all the time, being a general botheration. The humans seemed to be engaged in one of the strange antics to which humans were inclined.

With the feigned indifference that is the mark of a cat paying keen attention, she carefully studied the situation. What really went on in their heads, if anything, when they performed some of their inexplicable actions? Realizing that the answer to this puzzle was probably unattainable, she put it aside and turned her attention to more engaging pursuits.

A flutter of colour in the tree grabbed her attention. She quickly realized it was not a flashy little bird she should do something about.

She turned back to watching the flurry of activity in the yard. Some new people rushed into the yard. They started gathering around her human but all he did was lay there. Crazy human- he was not even in a sunny spot. Humans sure did not know about the best places. She often saw them sitting in shady places instead of taking advantage of the warmth of a circle of sun.

She watched them put her human on a table with wheels and roll it out of the yard. She jumped down from the window and ran to the front of the house. She climbed onto the back of the sofa and watched the people put the table with her person into a truck. She watched the truck sped away. Her human had filled her water and set out a dish of food for her before he went out to play in the yard, so she was not overly concerned about him going away.

Her concern grew, however, when dark came and then the sun came again. Now her food dish was empty. Despite her constant attention whenever she heard the opener, she had not figured out how to open the cans for herself.

Oh, well. She knew where a bag of dry food was kept and she knew how to open the pantry door to get to it. Knocking it over was no longer a great feat; she had mastered that years ago. As long as there was dry food in the pantry she would not go hungry. She decided to find a spot of sun and take a nap while she waited for her human to show up. He always did. But he never before went away without setting out an extra dish of food. Something was different this time.

Her day was long but uneventful. She had to move four times to find new sunny patches, and she spent an hour exploring the back of a closet. Dark arrived again, and her human had not returned.

She jumped to the sink in the bathroom and batted at the lever until water came out. Her person had never figured out why that tap dripped. One time she watched him attack it with some metal things. He yelled at it when he found water leaking from it a few days later. Humans were funny creatures.

Daring to wet her face, she caught a few drops of fresh water as they dripped into the sink. Next, she set out to get food. It was dim in the pantry but she knew exactly where to look for the bag. Fortunately, it was open. When she tipped it some crunchies spilled out. Satisfied that she could provide for herself, she ate a few before heading for the big bed and a well-deserved rest.

The sun was high over the tree with its flashy leaf when she heard noises at the front of the house. She sat up and waited, listening carefully.
“Now Margaret. You jus’ go on to home. I will do fine and dandy here in my very own house.”

“Jim, you just got out of the hospital. You ought not to be running around without someone to look after you. Leastwise not ’til you get settled.”

“I can look after me just fine. I got these crutches to help me get about and I got a cane in the closet. I do not need your looking after me.”

“Well, I do not feel right about just running off and leaving you alone. Look at you! You are a sight to see, what with a broken leg and a taped-up nose. Sinatra was not talking about your kind of Blue Eyes, either. He never crooned Black and Blue Eyes.”

The cat softly jumped to the floor and sneaked out to the front room. As soon as she saw her human she meowed once and walked over to him. This did not seem like a suitable time to punish him by ignoring him. She began rubbing against his leg. She stopped when she saw that the other leg was wrapped in a hard shell. She looked up at him, then at the other human. It was the noisy one who made her human grumpy whenever she came around.

“You see? I ain’t alone. I got my cat to keep me company. The very cat you pushed in my door and insisted I keep. She kept me in good company for a while now. I reckon she will do so tonight.”

“It may well be that she is good company, but she sure does not know how to fix you a good meal. And that is what I am going to do right now. You heard the doctor. You need to eat well and rest up so your leg can mend. You said you do not want to go to any care centre, so you have got to accept the proper care in your own house.”

“Alright Margaret. I know the only way to get you out of here is to let you have a bit of your own way. But after I have a bite I am gonna lay down for a rest on my bed, and you are gonna be gone when I get up. That is the way it has to be. That is the only way I will tolerate your bothering me.”

He reached down to scoop up the little cat and stumbled forward. Margaret rushed over to steady him, but he waved her away.

“Leave me alone. Stop your fussing over me. I am fine. Just need to re-establish my balances.”

He managed to gather the cat in his arm. He balanced himself carefully while he rubbed her head. She turned on her purr motor and pushed against his hand, urging it to keep going and nudging it to the right spots.

Turning back to Margaret, he snarled. “Well, go on. Go make your mess in the kitchen so you can finish your meddling and get on out and leave us in peace.”

She backed off at his rising annoyance, and went into the kitchen after emitting a last note of hmmph. “Stubborn foolish ornery old man,” she muttered. “Going to need some extra looking after. Going to need me, he will soon see. Not going to be able to do much but sit around for some time to come.”

Jim barely had time to hobble to his worn armchair and drop his skinny body onto it before Margaret’s cry rang out from the kitchen. It echoed around the corner and burst against his ears.

“Lordy, Jim. You got quite some mess in here. How long since this place got top to bottom attention? I tell you, it is going to take me some time to get this place just to the point where I can begin to fix a proper meal.”

In a non-subtle stage whisper she continued. “I do not get how anyone can go on living like this day in and day out. Not right; not good. It is just pride going before the fall.”

Realizing her unintended pun, she chuckled and repeated it. “Pride before the fall. And now too much pride after the fall.”

Unable to resist any longer, he called back, “I can hear you, you know. My ears ain’t busted. And I got good reason to have my pride.”

After a pause, he could not resist a final dig, “As you full well know.”

She stood in the doorway between the two rooms, wiping her hands on a ratty grey towel. “Forty-eight years. That is a powerful lot of stubborn pride to be harbouring. You have a long long way to fall, holding on to all that pride for all that time.”

“You know it was not me who ran off with some other fella while her man was away. It ain’t pride, knowing you have been done wrong to. It ain’t pride when you are out there in the mud and snow in a faraway land and you hear about your sweetheart, the one whose letters you kept right next to your heart each night, snugging up to some other fella. No sir. It was not me who ran off. So if you are gonna go and get uppity on me you best just run along right now.”

Margaret put her fists on her broad hips and shook her head at him. “It is a wonder that woman you married put up with your griping and moaning for all of those years. It drove her to her early grave. I am sure of that.”

“It is a wonder she came out of the same line as you, seeing as she was kind and considerate. How did she come to be your cousin anyhow? It would be like a skunk and a bluebird can be cousins. And you were not the bluebird.”

“You do not need to be hollering at me, Jim. I am not trying to get you riled, telling you what you ought or ought not to be doing. I am not deserving of these hard words and you know it. Lordy, all I know is I am here trying to help you, same as usual, and you are busting all over me for it. I do not know, Jim. I ought to just give up, like you say. Let you go off and perform whatever acts of craziness you prefer and hang the consequences.”

“Acts of craziness? Like hanging by you for so long? We have known each other more than half a century now. If I am so all fired crazy, why the good heck are you still here?”

Margaret sighed. She dropped the towel on the sideboard and quietly walked across to his chair. She half perched on the arm of the chair and placed her hand on his arm. She started stroking her fingers across it, as if to straighten out the wayward hairs poking out at odd angles. “Oh, Jim, Jim, Jim. It is not so much that you are crazy. It is just that sometimes you get crazy notions and I get scared for you.”

“Well, stop. Somehow I have managed to reach this day just fine. This day is about 78 years past my entry to this here world. Somehow, my crazy notions have not killed me yet. Maybe someday they will, but at least I will go on my terms. That is the way I want it-on my terms. Just like you want it on yours.” He shook her hand off his arm in a gesture of defiance.

“Well, your way did some pretty damage this time. And if I was not here to pick up your pieces, you would be stuck in a care centre right now.”

“Maybe if you were not here I would not ‘ve broke my leg. Maybe I would not have bothered about the durn leaves, since I do not mind them nearly as much as you do. How about that for a thought?” He looked off across the yard, avoiding her eyes. He did not bother about her hand this time, though.

“Look, Jim. How many times do I have to tell you that you are not so young any more. It is long past time you gave up thinking you can just go and do whatever bit of foolishness comes to your fool head.”

“None, Margaret. You never need to tell me anything. You always seem to want to, but you never have to. You have been pestering me for years and years, and I have been trying to not hear you for about the same years. Let it rest, Margaret. Let me finish out my life in peace. If I need you sometime, you might hear it from me. Otherwise, stop scuffing at my doorstep every day now.”

“You cannot do that.”

“I cannot do what, Margaret?”

“You cannot tell me to get out and stay out. You need someone to look after you, to help you out until you get back up on your feet. And that someone has got to be me, since I know you best.”

He glared at her from his seat. “I told you I do not need no one to be fussing around me, trying to run my life. Least of all you. I will take care of my own self in my own way. Why not just go bother the leaves in your yard or something and leave me be now.”

She harrumphed.

The cat jumped but Jim did not even look up when the door slammed.
The sun rose bright and strong the next morning. It took Jim a while to clear out the sink and restore the dishes to their rightful spots. He burned a couple slices of toast and cooked up some coffee. After his breakfast he practiced perambulating up and down the kitchen, getting a solid feel for his new three point stance. Once he was satisfied with his progress, he thump-shuffle-thumped to the front door and picked up the paper. He shuffled back to the kitchen table and eased his way onto a seat.

After a while he became aware that he was not alone. He glanced over the top of his paper and saw the cat perched on the table. She was surveying the yard. Her wiggling rear meant there was something of interest out there. He squirmed around in his chair and looked out at the barren garden. He saw patches of dirt where a mole broke through the dry brown grass, and the thorny rosebushes along the back fence. Eventually, his eyes came to rest on the miscreant tree.

He saw the lone leaf still clinging to the otherwise barren tree. It fluttered in the breeze but showed no inclination to give up its high perch. He gripped the edge of the table until his knuckles went white.

“Bastard leaf,” Jim mumbled. “Maybe I ought to just cut down your whole damn tree. That might show you who has got the last say.”

He eyed the cat perched on the table. “You know you are not supposed to be up there. Skee-daddle down now, you hear?”

She looked at him to gauge his level of seriousness. When he did not bother to push her off the table she settled her chest fur with a couple of quick licks and turned back to the window. She began to purr lightly.

She jumped when her human suddenly slapped the table. Once she was on the chair opposite him and safely out of reach she sat up and looked over at Jim.

“Yep. That is it. Show it who the boss is in this neighbourhood.” He spat the words out.

“Whatcha think, cat? Think we can be in charge of our own life?”

He picked up his crutches, shrugged on his jacket, took his old slouch hat from the hook beside the back door, and shuffled to the door.

He was careful to close it properly. Grasping the rail with his left hand, crutches in his right, he slowly hopped down the steps. When he reached the bottom he leaned on the crutches and turned from side to side to see if he was being watched. Satisfied he had not attracted any unwanted attention, he hobbled down to the street.

The little black cat sauntered to the front window and watched him go. Once he got to the sidewalk and headed up the street she wandered to the kitchen to make sure she had a good heaping of food. He had responsibilities and she constantly made sure to remind him. Cannot trust him to remember on his own. Satisfied he had listened to her, she headed up to the bedroom so she could spend some time imagining how she could get that fluttery leaf out of the tree.

Jim hobbled up the block and around the corner as quick as his wobbly crutches let him. He had taken the long way so he could avoid crossing in front of Margaret’s house. Now he was pressed to get to the stop before the bus heading down towards the hardware came along. Not quite sure how he was going to get a chainsaw back to the house, but blamed if that was gonna stop him. Would be time to work on that part once he got settled in the bus and caught his breath.

END