Cycle One E: Conversations on a Cold Road
“We have been trying
Trying to find you
There’s no use denying
Our love is behind you….”
(“Into the Darkness” " Graham Nash)
Ducky woke up abruptly, in the dark and disoriented. He had to be in his bedroom, but something didn’t feel right. In a surge of panic he thought he was back in Serbia, had spent a horrible day performing autopsies on a dozen children…
No, he was home. He fumbled for his glasses, read the numbers on his alarm clock telling him it was 2:45AM. The house was too quiet. He reached for the lamp, snapped the switch. Nothing happened. Odd…
A bright light outlined the bedroom door. What in the world was out in the hallway? He got up, slid into his robe and slippers and went to the door. He touched it, but it was neither hot nor cold. He put his ear to the door, but heard nothing unusual. The doorknob turned easily in his hand and he pulled the door open to step into a large autopsy room.
Well, this must be a dream…
A voice he knew better than any other said, “Well, you’ll probably remember it that way.”
“Mother?”
Victoria was standing next to a table as if she had been there all along. She resembled the fortieth anniversary picture, was even wearing the same green dress.
“Well, who would you expect your subconscious to drag up right now? Mister Toad? Although you always liked that book.”
“Wind in the Willows?”
“Yes. That one. I thought it was silly, but what did I know? It got you interested in reading at least. Although you still got into your fair share of scrapes. And you were forever bringing in dead animal parts and putting them in the icebox. Mrs. Donnelly did not appreciate finding that badger wrapped in a tea towel on the kitchen table.”
“Well, it had just been hit by a car. It was dead and it hadn’t had time to attract a lot of "”
“I’m not interested in the particulars of decay, Donald. Think about where part of me is right now and you’ll understand why this discussion takes on a whole new aspect of distastefulness.”
All right. This is getting very strange….
“Mother, what are you doing here exactly? I’m not sure what this is supposed to mean…if it’s a dream or something else.” A part of his consciousness was beginning to wonder if he was dying or dead or having some kind of out-of-body experience.
“I’m here to bring resolution. At least I think so. I want you to know that I’m all right. But I want you to know that you’ll be all right, too. I wasn’t very good at that, especially at the end, Donald, and I regret it.”
“You have nothing to regret, Mother. I understand…”
Victoria sighed. “I should have been more " what is that current buzzword? Accessible, that’s it! I should have been more accessible to you.”
“You were always accessible, Mother. You could always be counted upon, relied upon. You helped me through some of my darkest moments…”
“But not the darkest. Even SHE couldn’t help you through that. God knows she tried, but it was her darkest time, too. And you " you did nothing but find fault and run to other women. That girl loved you with every fiber of her being and you walled her out…” Victoria’s voice caught.
“Like Father walled you out…”
Victoria looked surprised. “I never knew you realized that. We tried to keep it civil.”
“You did. But I knew that there was no love, even when I was quite small.”
“I’m sorry you had to see that. Feel that.”
“I thought it was the norm " that THAT was how it was to be married. It seemed that way with a lot of my friends, too. And then came Celeste…”
“I could not understand why you would risk everything to follow that child to America and pursue her for four years. But all of us do things we shouldn’t do because we don’t want to let go of hope. It makes us human, I suppose.”
“Human. The deeper meaning of humanity. If you figure out that equation, please let me know.”
“I’m sure I won’t be allowed to share it. I haven’t been here long, but I’m getting a sense of the place.”
“Where is ‘here’ exactly?”
Victoria smiled. “It’s where you’re not. I’m not sure I can explain it any better. I’ve seen a lot of people who have come here before me, but it’s not time for you to come yet, Donald. So don’t start looking for a way in…”
“Father?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him yet. And I get the feeling he isn’t here. Which opens other avenues of thought on crossing over, I suppose.”
Abruptly the room changed to a different room…the living room of the house he and Celeste shared when they lived in Ann Arbor. Only it was larger, airier, filled with sunlight…
“Daddy? Why is Mommy crying?”
Ducky gasped and looked down into the face of his son. Andrew’s earnest hazel eyes bored into his, expecting an answer.
“Andrew!” He reached down to touch the boy’s face.
“No, Daddy! Don’t touch! You can’t stay here so you can’t touch!” Andrew took a small step back. “Gumma will hug me later. Gumma’s hugs are nice. She was happy to see me.” He gave Ducky a little smile. “I wasn’t here very long and she came. I was playing with Frodo and Sam.”
“Don’t you want me to stay here with you?”
“Not yet! Gumma will stay and she can play with me. You have to make Mommy stop crying.”
“Where is Mommy? Where is she crying?”
“She’s over there.” Andrew pointed to the edge of the room, a blur of dark and fog.
“You can see her?”
“She’s here too, but she doesn’t see me. She saw me once, though, when the Bad Man hurt her. But she had to leave.”
“Am I hurt? Is that why I’m seeing you?” Now he was worried he might have had some kind of silent health issue and he was approaching death.
“You hurt inside. That’s why you can see me.”
This was too strange. His son, his beautiful son was speaking to him in much the same way they had spoken when they went on walks to the woods, when they dug for toads, looked for tadpoles " slid down the muddy path to the creek bank. Celeste never complained about the mud…
“Mommy likes the smell of mud and of you and of me…”
What an extraordinary thing for him to say! “How do you know that, Andrew?”
“She wrote it down.”
Celeste HAD written it down. It was somewhere in “Cycle.”
“She writes down a lot of things. She writes down her tears.”
The passage of time had dimmed Ducky’s memories of just how remarkable his son was. Andrew started walking at eight months. He started talking around that time, too. Ducky had often been astounded by Andrew’s perceptiveness. He suspected there was a great deal of his mother in him, that Andrew chose his words with as much care as Celeste wrote hers, each a brushstroke to a complete picture. To see his boy now, so perfect and unchanged…Like the accident had never happened…
“I didn’t mean for you to be hurt, son. I’m so sorry I couldn’t fix…couldn’t bring you…keep you safe…”
“It’s all right, Daddy. I’m here now. I’m supposed to be here to wait for you and Mommy…”
“I love you so much, Andrew.”
“I love you, too, Daddy.”
Then the tears came. Ducky let them go, let them fall, let them flood his memory, wash the hurt places clean.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, son?”
“They said you can hug me and that you don’t have to stay if you do. But if you want to stay you can.”
Ducky dropped to his knees. Andrew ran into his embrace. He held his son, stroked the soft blond hair, rocked his little boy in his arms. Andrew touched his father’s tear-streaked face. “Don’t cry, Daddy. It’s all right now.”
“I know it is, Andrew. I know it is.”
Andrew smiled. “You’re going to go back, aren’t you? You don’t want to stay here now.”
“No, Andrew. I don’t belong here now. You and Gumma will do just fine until I come back.”
“You know, Donald, I didn’t care for ‘Gumma’ as a nickname for Grandmother.” Victoria had reappeared. “I always spoke respectfully to my elders, and you were taught to do so as well. ‘Grandmama’ was acceptable for my generation. You used the term also. But nowadays…” Victoria shook her head, a slight smile on her lips, “I can’t get enough of being called ‘Gumma!’”
“Daddy? Will you go back and see Mommy? Will you say that I’m all right? She’s sad sometimes and wonders.”
“Of course I’ll tell her. It will make her very happy.”
“And, Daddy? Don’t let her go…you need to hold her so you won’t be sad.” Andrew walked to the edge of the room and into the foggy perimeter. “The phone is ringing Daddy.” The boy disappeared.
“Andrew?”
“He’ll be fine, Donald.” Victoria watched her son reach toward the swirling greyness. “I understand why he wants to see you and Celeste back together. You’re his parents, after all, and that’s what every child dreams. But let me give you my opinion. I would say that if it were up to me, Jordan would be the one I’d choose for you. She is absolutely perfect. Calm, focused. Everything you need to be content. Celeste has many fine qualities and I must say I was appalled by the way you treated her after Andrew died. For once in your life you did something exactly like your father would do…”
“I’m sorry for that…”
“I know that, dear. And so does Celeste. She made peace with that long ago. Even before I did, I think. But that’s ancient history. Celeste is headstrong and flighty. She makes poor choices concerning those she associates with. She is still a little girl in some ways and you don’t need to be saddled with a woman/child. Remain friends, but I really think it’s best that you leave it at that.”
“Last word on the matter, Mother? You would choose Jordan for me?”
“Yes.”
“I see. I will take it under consideration, then. But what about my own decision? The choice I’d make?”
“You’re still looking for answers, Donald, and they’re hard to find. I can try to guide you, but my sphere of influence has been shockingly small in your life. If you want the answer, your telephone is ringing…” Victoria’s voice faded.
Suddenly the light came up brighter and brighter all around him. Then he was plunged into darkness just as abruptly. His eyes snapped open. He was lying in bed, under the covers in his own bedroom, the alarm clock glowing 3:05AM. He had his glasses on. He was wearing his robe, his slippers still on his feet.
The house phone was ringing.
“Hello?”
The voice was a whisper, raspy with tears. “Donnie? Is everything all right?” It was the still, small voice that made the tumblers start clicking into place.
“I’m fine. Everything is fine. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Thank God you’re there. I just dreamed of Andrew…”
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