Heat. Hot night on the ground. Sky day and ground night. Not normal. No nose tickling. No wetness. The ground is night. Brown of water ahead. Past the field of night and field of grass. Down the hill. Go there.
Forward.
Sky day and ground night. A sound and blurred movement. Louder. Danger. Retract!
Stay.
Stay.
No more sound. No vibrations. Cautiously extend. Light and heat. A low horizon.
Forward.
A new color on the ground. A line of cloud on the ground. Not better. Not home. Not food or drink. Food past the field of night.
Forward.
Another sound and movement. Louder. Faster. Danger. Retra—Pain! Pain in the the front. Retract! No smell. Heat all around and pain in the front. Extend and forward. Pain! Slower now. Dragging. Too hot. Too much pain. Stuck on the cloud.
Pain!
Backward. Slowly. Moving is pain. Stop.
September 10, 1992
One time over the summer I was riding home from the pool. I like going to the pool and my Mom takes me. We go together. There's a vending mashine there. My mom gives me quarters. Cherry Drops are my favorite. Our house is close. My Mom doesn't swim but lays in the sun. I swim and play with my friends. I throw rings and they dive to get them.
One day driving home with my mom I see a turtle. "Mom! A turtle!" I yelled. She stopped so I could go save him. I didn't want him to get runned over. I had no shoes on and the ground was hot and sharp with rocks. I ran back to where he was. He was real close to the white line on the road. He wasn't moving at all.
I was going to put him in the grass and aim him back from the road so he would be where he belongs but he was hurt already. I was to late. He'd been runned over already by somebody and his legs in the front was almost off. He was queit and hurt. Aminals don't cry like us. He looked at me with one eye. Maybe he liked me because he didn't pull his head in or go potty when I picked him up. Frogs do that. He was hurt bad and I was scared.
I ran him back to my Mom's car and was crying for him. I said to my Mom how he was hurt. She asked what was wrong and I showed her his smashed legs. She said lets take him to the vetranarnian. I said OK. We put him in a box and I watched him in there. I pet his shell. He was moving around slow and bleeding in the box a little. He was slower than a turtle normally is and turtles are one of the slowest aminals around besides sloths. His legs in the front didn't work right. They bended funny. I was real sad watching him. He couldn't go where he wanted.
When we got to the vets he wasn't moving much at all. A girl in white clothes took the box from me and told me I had done a good thing. She said heed be OK and not to wory. I said his legs was broke. She said maybe they could help. They could make him casts for him to heel. I cried some more when he was gone. My Mom cried to.
Then we went home. I was still wearing my trunks from swimming. I went to my room and changed and sat in my room by myself. I was so sad for him and for me to. I never broke a bone. A car broke some of my turtles. The phone rang and my Mom answered it. She told the phone OK thank you and hung up. She sat on my bed and I knew it was trouble. She told me the vetranarnian tried his best. He had to make my turtle asleep but said I did a good thing because the turtle wasn't hurting anymore. He's been sleeping ever since. It was the saddest day ever.
May 10, 2004
That reminds me of this one time—oh, gosh, it must be...more than ten years ago now—when Randal found this turtle on the side of the road. He was going into the second or third grade. It was summer and we'd spent the day at the pool I remember. I had been going through a tanning phase—I know, I know, don't start—and I had to practically drag him to go with me. I used to bribe him with candy. It was the only way he'd go. It's terrible, but he wasn't a great swimmer okay. Poor kid, scared of the water. I couldn't blame him. He was always getting these horrible ear infections. He had bright orange ear plugs he had to wear, you know, to keep the water out. He picked the color himself but that was little consolation. I think he was self-conscious even then. The other kids didn't make it easy on him, you know what I'm saying? But he wouldn't listen to me. I told him to ignore the other kids and that everybody's got problems and how some people's are more visible, but it didn't matter to him. I never seemed to have the right words. Such a sensitive child, much more sensitive than he is now.
Well but back to what I was saying, he found this turtle on the side of the road. He always kept his eyes peeled for animals wherever we went. He absolutely loved animals, was fascinated by them. He was always catching frogs and what-have-you. Looking for birds nests or tracks in the mud. He would pick up worms off the sidewalk after a rain and put them back in the grass. At one time we had three coffee cans on a shelf in the garage with slugs he'd find in the garden. He'd put them and a couple of fist fulls of grass in the tins like they'd eat that. He'd check on them first thing after school and dump more grass on them. He made me promise to give them a drink while he was gone. But, anyhow, we're on our way home and he screams, "A turtle! A turtle!" out of the blue and it scares me half to death. So I pull over on the shoulder and, you know, indulge him. He could be so persistent. He'd be preoccupied the rest of the day wondering about the turtle if I'd kept on going.
Anywho, he hops out of the car—it's not a busy road, don't worry—and I'm checking my face in the mirror and my arms out to see if they're any darker—hah! Two minutes later he comes back, beet red and bawling, with this mess of a creature in his hands. He holds it out to me like 'You do something with this'. It took me a second to even recognize it as a turtle. But so there it is and Randal's practically shaking. What could I do? I mean this comes out of absolutely nowhere! My first thought was all of the dirt and filth and disease and I start to tell him to put it down but he was crying so hard he couldn't like process it. So I put the car in park and I'm thinking a million miles a minute. I didn't know what to do, you know what I'm saying? He was such a fragile child, always crying and very sensitive like I said. I was at a loss. His heart's broke and then my heart's broke because his is and I had to do something to make it better. Well so I knew he wasn't going to leave the thing alone. He wouldn't talk for a week if I made him drop it. It felt like it took me an hour but I finally said to him we'll take the turtle to our vet. I mean what else can you do with an injured turtle? It's not like we could bury it. But Dr. Shawati was the best. A kindly old Indian—like Indian from India. A real sweetheart. I figured he'd know what to do.
So thank God I keep a box for groceries and what not in the trunk because otherwise Randal wanted to hold the thing in his lap! Imagine! The little thing was in shock. It looked terrible. I still don't know how it was possible, it even being alive. It looked like it'd been hit with a big...hammer or something, but just the first inch of it's body. The shell was fine. Not a scratch on it. It's like the poor thing put his toes over the line and got smacked, you know what I mean? It wasn't bleeding much thank goodness, mostly internal bleeding I guess. I don't know. It looked like a bad rug burn on its skin, really. Is it skin on reptiles? Scales?
Long story short, we dropped it off at the vet's and went home. I think the thing was already dead by the time we got there but it's hard to tell with reptiles. As soon as we got in the door, Dr. Shawati's office called to tell me it had to be put down. The young woman receptionist was very sweet and said there was nothing they could have done. She was trying to let me down easy and I'm thinking like, its not the turtle I'm concerned about. It's my son. They didn't bill me a penny for any of it, though. So there I was faced with the prospect of telling Randal about what happened and death and the whole thing. We'd never lost a pet at that point and he still had all of his grandparents. Once we were in a store with a stuffed grizzly and I had to reassure him for it seemed like a half an hour that it was only a big teddy bear and never had been alive. Needless to say no Bambi in our house. The snails would die I think but we "released" them all the same and he never seemed to notice. I guess there were dead bugs, but bugs never seem to count. TV never seems so real, either.
Randal was looking at me because he could tell who I'd been talking to. He's always been smart like that. Kids are smarter than we are. It's scary. I told him the doctor tried his best but couldn't put the turtle back together again. He looked up at me with this look of such...concern on his face. I said the turtle was put to sleep now. To sleep, I know, it's awful but I just couldn't say the word dead in front of him. He asked if the turtle was okay. Obviously he didn't understand what sleep meant when he asked that. I backpedaled. I said sure he was. Okay in a way. It was feeling no pain anymore, which was true. He broke out sobbing and when I asked him what was wrong he said turtles are supposed to be awake in the daytime. He was very into possums and bats at the time, the nocturnal creatures. I never understood where he got that from. But what're you supposed to say? I mean wow. I was already toasted from laying out all day. We both needed a nap. I didn't say a thing. I felt so ill equipped. He was onto something, you know. I just hugged him until he stopped crying. He didn't bring it up again so neither did I.
I think it really changed him. He was still into animals and such but not the same. Distant I'd say. I guess that's how we grow up, but it was awful to watch your own son go through it. I was torn up because I knew if I'd explain any more he'd only get more upset. He knew something was very wrong. I'm sorry to say that I just waited it out. What can you say to a kid to make them feel better about death? They're so smart, very intuitive. They know all about innocence and what fault is. Randal was so hung up on how the turtle hadn't done anything wrong and how he was too late. What could I say, really? So, I just put it off and put it off and well... you know. We tell them honesty is the best policy and sometimes I wonder if maybe I should have just told him and dealt with it then and there. That's life though. Hindsight's 20-20.
October 1, 2009
"Hello?"
"Yes."
"Are you there?"
"Yes."
"Oh. Sorry. I thought we got disconnected. You didn't say anything."
"What's there to say?"
"I don't know. Something. Anything. You knew the boy, not me."
"Not well. I knew him back in middle school."
"I just think it's tragic is all. So young."
"It's always tragic."
"Imagine what he could have done for the world! He was in his second year of med school. To think he was taking out the trash. The police said the driver wasn't speeding. Timothy just hit his head funny on the curb and that was that."
"Okay."
"What's wrong with you, Randal? One of your classmates died and I can't get you to so much as admit it's sad."
"It's sad."
"Oh, well jeez, that wasn't very convincing."
"I said what you wanted me to. Sometimes it feels like you let me sink when I'm drowning and dunk me when I'm floating."
"That's certainly not my intention. I only want for you to be happy."
"I'm happy when I can be... I'm going to go."
"What? Why? We haven't talked in a month."
"Then why are we talking about strangers?"
"I beg your pardon, Randal. I thought you'd like to know about Timothy."
"It was ten years—"
"I know. We've established that."
"Anyway, he was a dick to me. What do I care?"
[...]
"It's the way of the world, mom."
"What?"
"People get squished. Everything does. It can't be helped."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Nevermind."
[...]
"So what's new with you, Randal?"
"Nothing."
"Aren't you going to ask me what's new with me?"
"What new with you?"
"A new Italian place opened up down the road. Perdoni's or Perdioni's or some such. Maybe I can get Debbie to try it with me. I haven't had good lasagna in ages. But she's been so busy with little Lisa. Just running her ragged."
"That's sounds nice."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes. I'm fine."
"You're awful quiet."
"I've got nothing to say."
"Hm."
[...]
"It makes you count your blessings, what happened to Timothy."
"I guess."
"Life is so precious."
[...]
"What about death, then, mom?"
"What about it?"
"What is it if life is so precious? How does it fit in?"
"Hm. Well. I haven't given it a lot of thought. Um...It's a necessary evil I suppose. I mean it comes to all of us sooner or later. It always catches me off guard. I forget about it for a while and then boom! It hits me."
"I've thought a lot about it."
"Well then maybe you should tell me what you think instead of asking me all the questions."
"I think it's cruel. It's the worst part of being alive or being human I guess, knowing it's going to be yanked from you but not seeing it coming like specifically. Not yanked like by a person, but you know."
"You can't stop it."
"No, you can't."
"But you know, I mean, we have hope at least."
"You do."
"We do."
[...]
"Listen to us! How'd we get on this awful topic?"
"You keep bringing it up. You've mentioned Tim three times now."
"Well. I didn't want to upset you, but I didn't think you'd heard."
"I'm not upset."
"Of course you aren't."
"Of course?"
"I only mean that you tend be a little... underwhelmed, generally, in response to whatever."
"Oh."
"Don't you agree?"
"Um. I'd say I'm not underwhelmed but overwhelmed, like over overwhelmed. Chronically."
"Hm."
"I really do need to get going. I haven't eaten yet."
"You're not upset, are you?"
"No."
"Okay well that's good. It was good catching up. When're you coming home next?"
[...]
"Hello? Randal?"
