Journal (18 page)

The
next room was a combination kitchen-family room; a great room I guess you could
say.  In the kitchen, everything was neat and orderly.  There was a copper
teapot on the stove; small, medium, and large canisters labeled tea, sugar, and
flour on the counter; and a block of maple holding black handled knives.  On
the ceramic tiled drain board, there was a plaid dishtowel spread out.  Upside down
on top of that was a cup and saucer of delicate design, and there were three
candles set out on small glass plates that I lit with my one flame.  The additional
light they gave off helped us to search the cupboards, and we discovered they
contained a variety of canned and preserved foods; not a lot, but more food than
we had seen in a while.

The
family room showed much use.  There was a leather sectional and matching lounge
chair, oil stained, cracked, and hollowed out from the weight of its occupants. 
It was one of those types that you can lean back in and stretch out.  Next to
that was a reading lamp and a wooden — a wooden what? — a wooden something that
had more old magazines stacked in it.  There was a big screen TV covered in
dust and an iron stove with a glass door set in it.  The carpet was
indoor-outdoor, window-pane beige.

As
we explored further, I followed Anna down a hallway and past an open door.  It
was a bathroom, wallpapered with small yellow roses and had a hanging, framed
mirror facing the door, so my reflection blinked as I went by.  I stopped and
took the two steps back.  What a strange experience that was.  I knew it was me
of course, but I didn’t recognize me.  There was no feature of my landscape
that provided any hint for orientation.  I was a stranger to myself.

Of
course, the first thing I noticed was my face.  I knew I had lost weight.  As I
mentioned before, I am constantly hiking up my pants like a kid in his big
brother’s hand-me-downs, but seeing myself now, I looked truly emaciated.  My
once fleshy appearance had given way to pale sunken cheeks and hollowed out
eyes that seemed to have changed from their natural yellow-brown color to
something closer to black.  My skin was tanned, or maybe weathered is a better
description for it, and lined in places that had before been smooth.  From the bottom
of my nose on down, I was covered with a greasy, tangled mat of hair, liberally
streaked with gray.  There’d never been any gray before, or, for that matter,
greasy, tangled hair, either.  I can’t say I like the look.  What was on top of
my head was no better.  I used to have straight, limp, light brown hair that I
kept short and combed back.  It was now parted in the middle from front to rear
and hung to my collar.  It was also dark, dark brown and looked as if I’d
shampooed with motor oil.  When I rubbed a clump of it between my fingers, I
noticed my nails were split and dirty, and the skin around them was cracked and
calloused.  No wonder Petra wouldn’t shake my hand.

I
was pretty much just standing there thinking what an ugly SOB I’d become, not
that there was that much to run down in the first place, when Anna’s voice
pulled me from my quickly develoa breakfast of canned fruit and with t ping funk.

I
found her at the top of the stairs in what I suppose was the master bedroom,
staring at the remains of a woman, propped sitting up in bed with two, large,
lace-trimmed pillows.

The
woman’s skin was saddle-leather brown, suggesting she had been there a long,
long time.  She was dressed in a white sleeping gown of some sort, with red buttons
up the front and little pink flowers on it.  One eye was closed, the other half
open.  Her jaw hung down and her lips, still showing traces of red lipstick,
were shrunken back exposing her teeth.  She had a single stud pearl earring in
each lobe and a gold chain with a simple two inch matching cross around her
neck.  The blankets were pulled up to her chest, but her arms were lying on the
outside next to her body.  Her left ring finger had an engagement/wedding ring
set on it that hung loose on stick fingers.

On
the night stand beside her were three empty pill vials, an empty water glass
with a white residue in the bottom, suggesting some liquid in it had evaporated,
a three inch candle, and a telephone, one of the old ones with buttons that you
push.  Tucked partially under the phone was a piece of paper with some writing.

Anna
asked me to bring the candle closer and picked up the piece of paper and read
it out loud.  I’ve recorded it here word for word.

To
Whom It May Concern:  I’ve had a good life, so I have no misgivings about what
I am going to do.  I had a wonderful husband who provided for me as best he knew
how and five children who grew to be good fathers and mothers in their turn.  But
they’re all gone now, and I’ve no business staying around.  I have just one more
prayer to say before I take leave of this life but it won’t be for me in the
hereafter.  My last prayer is for those I leave behind.  Peace be with you.  Beth
Morgan.

As
I write out these words of Beth Morgan and remember those written by Chester
Huston, Claire’s husband, it strikes me how we humans so value companionship
and family; almost a higher order of need.  In both cases, these fine people
saw no point in continuing to live without their families.  And think of Anna,
too.  She said that the only thing left was deciding how to kill herself.  Remember
that?  But suddenly there was Gabriel and she lived.  What about me, though, eh?

For
two years now, I’ve been on my own.  I’ve had no one to confide in, no one to
trust.  I too have lost family and friends.  So why didn’t I kill myself as the
others did?  But if I’m so different from Chester and Beth and don’t need
companionship like they did, why haven’t I abandoned Anna and Christian out of
pure self-interest?  I certainly could move quicker, quieter, and need less food
(less everything) by myself.  I think the answer is that I never had anyone to
miss before.  I had an ex-wife and daughter on the east coast, and a sister I
never spoke with.  Now though, as rough as our relationship started out, I have
two people in my life I care about.  I wonder how I would feel if I lost one or
both of them.  Would I want to take my own life?

We
found a blanket in her closet and covered her head and shoulders so Gabriel and
Petra wouldn’t see her.  Once the blanket was in place, Anna took up the candle
on the night stand and lit it with mine.  I told her that the kids would be
wondering where we were, so I had better go get them.  She said she’d stay
behind because she wanted to explore the house a little more and maybe get a
fire started in the stove so we could heat something to eat.

One
more thing to mention:  the water supply for the house was a well, as is the
case for most places in the area.  Since there was no electricity, the pump
supplying water to the house was of course out of commission.  But the Morgan’s
had a hand pump installed at the wellhead as a back-up.  On the way back to get
Gabriel and Petra, I gave it a couple of licks and discovered it still worked. 
It would be suitable water for bathing and, if boiled, safe for drinking.  We’d
never had it so good.

By
the time the three of us got back to the house, Anna had a fire going in the iron
stove.  I can’t begin to tell you how good that felt.  None of us had been
truly warm in many days.  We had fires here and there but even when we could
let them burn awhile, they just heated one side of us while the other went
cold.

Anna
found a large bag of white rice and used the water in our water bottles to
start it boiling.  Once the rice was done, she spooned it onto three plates and
scooped the contents of a can of beef stew she also had found, over the top of
it.  I ate until it hurt.

And
that’s pretty much it for April 10
^th
.  Anna and Petra took one of
the bedrooms downstairs and Gabriel the other.  I’ve stayed up to finish this
and afterwards I’ll use the sectional in the family room to sleep on.

April
11, 2054 –

It’s
been ten days since I first encountered Gabriel.  I almost can’t believe it.

I
woke up well past sunrise with a sore back, no doubt from sleeping on something
softer than I’m used to.  I probably should have just slept on the floor.

We
ate a breakfast of canned fruit and more rice, only with a little sugar on it
this time (don’t knock it unless you’ve tried it) and decided to take advantage
of some soap and warm water while we had the opportunity.  No telling when we’d
have another chance at it.

Anna
helped Petra with a bath, using water heated on the wood-burning stove. 
Gabriel went next, followed by Anna.  While they were doing that, I found a
pair of scissors and a safety razor, and got rid of that ugly mess that had
grown on my face.  It actually didn’t come out too bad.  Not that it made me
look any better.  Gray in my hair at my age, I can’t believe it.

After
Anna finished, I took what amounted to a glorified sponge bath but still a bath
none the less.  You should have seen the bottom of the tub after I finished.  Then
again maybe you shouldn’t have.  It was pretty bad.a breakfast of canned fruit ands , but at

I
dressed in a pair of heavy canvas work pants that probably belonged to Beth
Morgan’s husband, along with a long sleeve flannel shirt.  But better than
that, a hundred times better, was the fresh underwear and socks.  Oh, they felt
good.  I even took a spare set for later.

You
know something?  As I write this, the crazy notion that maybe our luck has
finally changed, has come into my head.  It’s like somehow the food, bath,
heat, and clean clothes are a sign that we’ve paid our dues and now things will
be easier.  Maybe that includes being done with Ponytail, too.  I don’t know if
it’s true, but just the thought is infectious.  I’m smiling.

Moving
on now, after I finished my bath and dressed in clean clothes, I thought I’d
take a shot at cutting my hair, so I stood in front of the mirror trying to at
least do a halfway decent job of it.  I wasn’t having too much success, though,
partly because (as you know) a mirror reverses everything, and partly because
there were just too many places I couldn’t easily reach.  I kept at it anyway
and, while so occupied, heard Gabriel and Petra go out to explore the grounds
and garage.

Shortly
after that, Anna appeared in the doorway, leaned against the jam, and watched
me for a few seconds, which naturally made my job all the harder.  Eventually
she asked if I wanted some help.  For some reason my brain said no but for some
other reason my mouth said yes, so she led me into the kitchen where she had me
sit in a chair.  (I can imagine that about now whoever is reading this is
thinking this is just too damn much information about personal grooming.  But if
you can hang in there a minute, I’ll get to the point.)

She
worked away on me for about ten minutes I suppose, moving around from side to
back to side to front, and I have to admit I was getting more out of it than
just a haircut.  Sitting there as I was, I could smell the soap she had used to
wash her own hair.  I felt the heat radiating off her body.  I registered her
softness, here and there, a touch of my shoulder, arm, back, even a brush of my
leg with hers.  It was overwhelming in a sensual, erotic sort of way.  I don’t
know if she was doing it on purpose, but I suspect so.  No matter, on purpose
or not, the effect was the same.

At
one point, to try and save myself by getting my mind off of things, I attempted
to engage her in conversation, but she just raised my chin, put a finger on my
lips, gave me a short shush, and went silently back to work.

That
little sneaky move of hers literally gave me goose bumps across the back of my
shoulders, and a warming bloomed in my cheeks and neck.  I remember praying I
wasn’t turning red.  She would have had the advantage of knowing my thoughts,
but I wouldn’t have known hers.

At
some point she said she was done or some such thing, I don’t even remember now
to be honest with you, and moved around in front of me to presumably check her
handiwork.  There she stood, feet slightly spread, looking down at me, close up
to my knees, before reaching out a hand and brushing a hair from my cheek with
a couple of short, soft strokes.  I put my palm over hers and moved it to my
lips.  She just stared at me at that point, expressionless except for just the
sligh informationwottest softening of her eyes.  She didn’t take her hand from mine, though.  No,
she sure didn’t do that.  And as unsure as I was about all this, my feelings
and what I wanted, I knew this to be a good sign.  So I pulled her forward and
kissed her lips.

I
swear we stayed like that for two or three seconds, her hands on my shoulders, her
eyes open and looking at mine and mine at hers.  Maybe in that time she was
thinking about what a stupid thing it was to do (me too) and how she ought to
push away before it went any further (me too), but I was leagues past the point
of being able to actually stop myself.

A
tremor ran through me.  My knees shook as if in anticipation of some great race. 
And I guess she also went past that point of no return because she slid forward
and straddled my legs, and I wrapped my arms around the small of her back and
pulled her tight.  After that, it was as if something we’d both crammed deep down
for all these days came busting out.  Our lips, our tongues, our hands touched
everywhere two clothed people can touch.  There was no stopping us.