Ned's Memory Pt.2

‘Oh, you know me. I’m getting along alright,’ I said, ignoring the question. ‘Ned.’ He said simply, prodding me. I put the phone down for a minute and rubbed my eyes, regretting having called. ‘Ned, you there?’ He asked as I picked up again. ‘Of course, I’m here, I couldn’t hang up on you. As for how I’ve been, well, I feel like a flower must feel whenever it’s life draws to a close. There’s no more strength to draw water, there’s too much sunlight and I feel myself getting weaker all the time. I’m at the end of it. All it will take is a strong enough wind or merciful gardener and I’ll be on my way.’ There was a moment of silence on the other line, ‘Give me a minute to think.’ I watched as the light faded a little more on the blocks around me. A sleek sedan pulled in the little slot, an appropriate distance away from the curb and a plump gentleman labored his way from the drivers’ side. A door burst open and three kids ran screaming out, leaping on bicycles and busied themselves with some sort of game. Another car passed and Alfred spoke, ‘I take it you’re not too well, Ned. But think back, remember when we were both just sprouting? I hardly had any petals and there we were, sitting on that bus to New Orleans, just waiting for our adventure to open up around us. And you remember what we did when we got there?’ I thought back over the long years but came up blank, faces and names mingling together in the soup of my brain. ‘Remind me,’ I said gently. ‘Of course,’ Alfred said, almost apologetically, ‘We went straight down to bourbon street and weren’t sober for the next week! We took that time and lived, my friend! I know you might say that the time for living is past, and now we are old and grey and may have made mistakes, but this kind of having been is something to enjoy and not let go, not too soon.’ He went on. ‘Your strength is only what you make of it, and damnit you need to make it more.’ I sighed, withdrawing into the comfort of a black thought. You see, there was solace in my hopelessness, and this is perhaps why I was so stubborn towards those I spoke to. There was a part of me that sought its way out with desperation, away from black thoughts, away from despair. But there was another part, deeper and stronger that always drug me back in. I couldn’t control my thoughts during periods when this blackness came to be. I was obstinate, bullying away what may have helped. It was easy for me to let the words slide off me, convincing myself that strength was not something to be manufactured but granted, and I had used all of mine. ‘You don’t seem to understand, Alfred. I have been, yes, and now its time to go. This, all of this,’ I gestured out with an arm, ‘Is simply too good for me! Some bumbling old fool that only bothers his friends and ruins the mornings of his neighbors! There is no strength to be had you old fool! Trust me, you’ll understand one of these days what I mean, perhaps when your own memory fails you and you don’t know who you are in the morning.’ There was a moment of silence followed by a sigh, ‘Unfortunately, you’re the one that doesn’t understand, Ned. But take some time, think about it, and I’ll be here when you do.’ The line went dead before I could say anything else. As I sat the vehemence drained out of me and I grew to regret what I had said.

The light continued to fade away, cars came home more quickly now, people piling out and hurrying into their families. A Christmas tree lit up a window across the way and I sighed, sitting in my own darkened corner. Early December, a beautiful time in the complex. Most houses put up lights and the neighborhood is always gay with excitement. I normally decorated my own little porch with a string of white, a few icicles thrown in because Elizabeth like them so much. I always grumbled about the power bill going up whenever she asked for more. My eyes burned fiercely, tears fighting their way through worn out eyes. They streamed hot down my face as I wished I could put up the lights, light up the whole damn world if it’s what she would’ve wanted. I sat daydreaming for a few moments of Elizabeth’s round face alight in the glow of our humble living room, lit as it was every year by our very own tree. The irony struck me, normally I could not remember a thing and now I found it impossible to stop. A rumble interrupted my thought, Charlie and his beater rolling up, tires scraping against the curb as he pulled it in. I cringed, thinking of how quickly he would wear out the sidewall that way. I stared as the car relieved itself of an oversized burden and rocked on its chassis. Charlie with his usual grin spied me out of the darkness collecting around the porch and threw up a hand, ‘Hey, there, Ned! Your opinion on the morning change at all?’ Of course, Charlie couldn’t have known what happened this morning and he was simply being friendly, but the question was poorly timed. I opened my mouth, ready and oh so willing to give Charlie a mouthful but I choked on the first word. I cleared my throat to hide my embarrassment. ‘Hey, you alright?’ Charlie asked, turning up the small concrete path beside his own. After a few steps his strides carried him easily to my steps and he stood peering at me, opening his coat. ‘I’m alright,’ I said, hoping the redness of my eyes wouldn’t show in the dim light. ‘It’s only that my damned old throat doesn’t want to work, right along with my brain.’ Charlie laughed, a lighthearted thing. ‘Oh, I think you’ve got it in you for a while yet, pal. All you’ve got to do is start eating a little better. Didn’t you say you needed to watch your cholesterol?’ ‘You had ought to know by now I can’t remember. I’ll eat what I want until I die if it’s any business of yours.’ I paused for a moment thinking. I suppose it must’ve shown because Charlie asked, ‘What’s bothering you, gramps?’ ‘Why the hell am I so mean to you, Charlie?’ I said quietly, covering my face with my hands. He stepped on the porch and laid a heavy hand over my shoulder, ‘It’s not your fault, Ned. You’re frustrated. You’re angry. You don’t know how to deal with everything that’s happened. You’re a regular person.’ I uncovered my face and looked up at him, wondering how he could speak so kindly to a man that only gave him trouble. ‘Charlie? Can I ask you something?’ I said tersely, not really wanting to. ‘Well, you just did,’ Charlie laughed, his voice resonating off the smooth stone walls. I smiled, ‘Was it you, with these bear paws of yours that pulled me out of the blaze?’ I had remembered something. Charlie was slow in answering, keeping his eyes away from mine. He crossed the small porch and slid the other white plastic chair forward, scraping it along the porch. The sun continued to die and the light drew dimmer, my old eyes hardly able to find his in the gloom. ‘Actually, it just so happened I had forgotten my badge to clock in and I remembered as I circled the block. I happened to see a flash of orange and stared over, and I’ll be damned if your apartment wasn’t on fire. So yes, Ned, I was lucky enough to pull you out. Thank God,’ he finished, quietly, almost to himself. I nodded in my chair and folded my arms. My good nature was drying up quickly. ‘Let me ask you something else, Charlie.’ He leaned back in his chair, a hand scratching through his hair like an exhausted man does. ‘How many times have I asked you that same question?’ I remembered more than a few days now, very similar to this one. Charlie sat silent. ‘I remember asking you the same damn thing at least four times, and now I know your reaction is because I’m asking again, not because of the supposed enormity of saving one old fool from the death that he deserved.’ I saw a change come over him then, a stony expression erasing any hint of his usual mirth. ‘I’ll tell you the same thing I’ve told you before then, whether you choose to believe it or no, and whether you forget or not. I’m your friend, Ned. I believe that you can find your way out of this hole you have found yourself in and still do something good, even in the state you are. That’s the Ned that I know. That’s the Ned Elizabeth loved. Why don’t you write it down like you do all the other garbage you put on your walls, huh? Why don’t you write the things that are important? Who the hell cares whether you brush your teeth if you walk around as this awful bitter person you’ve become? What the hell does it matter where the bread goes if you hate who you are, not when you remember, not when you forget, but all the damn time?’ I sat silent, surprise superseding a brooding anger I felt would come later. My surprise quickly dissolved into a sadness, reminiscent of the pain I had felt when my old dog Roscoe got into some ant poison and died in the kitchen some time ago. It felt like I had lost a companion whose value I had not yet assigned but was mightier than ever expected. ‘Charlie will you sit back down?’ His frustration had driven him out of his seat, a truly intimidating sight for a man so large. Had he truly desired he might’ve been the answer to a yearning old man’s prayer with a single blow. After a moment he sat, watching me with squinted eyes. ‘Now here’s something I’ve not seen before. We’ve had several similar discussions and normally your curses follow me to my door. There’s a good change in you, Ned, though we’ve had to work at it.’ It was foolish of me, but my eyes drew wet. ‘I’m so sorry, Charlie. The way I’ve spoken to-‘ ‘Stop it,’ He interrupted, ‘It’s not your fault, Ned. But you can help to fix it and the best ways not by apologizing. You’ve got power over yourself, at least to a certain point. I know your situation is frustrated and honestly, I can’t say how I would react. But damnit you’ve got people here who actually care about you and it’s about time you remember, no matter what you’re dealing with. Write this down, Ned.’ I rose somewhat shakily, ‘You wait right there, and I’ll get my pad. I’ll write until my damned hand falls off.’ Charlie’s booming laugh filled the porch again, ‘Hurry now, the kids are waiting for me!’ he called as I disappeared into the house.