“Folks, I’ve gotta go. Esther, that was amazing. Keep up the good work. Paranoid Schizophrenic bitch.” Chet let himself out.
Oscar disappeared.
She waited a little while before she went to find him. He was in what appeared to be a den. There was a single yellow light coming from a lamp in the corner. This is where all the clutter was and a t.v. The walls were lined with books, c.d.’s, dvd’s, records, he was sitting on a love seat slumped over with his head in his hands.
“Oscar,” she whispered as she knelt in front of him, “are you okay?”
“I can’t do this anymore.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
He looked directly into Esther’s eyes. He was almost to the point of crying, his eyes were glassy and bloodshot. “Why, why does she do this to me? Why?”
“To embarrass you and manipulate you into getting what she wants. The harder you pull against her wishes the harder she pushes. She knows that you are a Christian and she’s using religion against you. As it were.”
“I can’t take it. I can’t do it.” He held out his hands and they were shaking.
She held his hands in hers. “Tell me what you are most upset about?”
“All that talk about masturbation. It would humiliate anyone. Tell me one man that hasn’t done that.”
“I can’t.”
“Why did she have to bring that up in front of you?”
“She’s trying to run me off.”
“And why did Chet have to say ‘Paranoid Schizophrenic bitch’. That makes it real. That makes me feel like my dirty laundry is hanging out there for you to see.” He flailed his hands around in the air. “Lookie here, my mom is paranoid schizophrenic that means Oscar is crazy too.”
“Honey, look at me.” He did as she asked. “My dad committed suicide. That doesn’t make me crazy. Just because our parents have mental health issues, that doesn’t mean that we have them.”
“Do you know how many nights I have worried that one morning I’m going to wake up and be crazy too?”
“On a different level, yes.” And if I may add, “being sick doesn’t give someone the right to be mean. Too many people feel like being ill gives them a license to be overly aggressive and odious.”
She couldn’t tell if what she said had any effect. He seemed so lost.
Finally – he huffed, “let’s go back over and work, maybe it will help take my mind off this.”
Tell us about your first day at something — school, work, as a parent, etc.
My new mom and I had a rocky start. But 8 years later, we are rock solid. I tried to run away. Did run away for 2 days. Gave mom quiet the scare. I jumped in the bed. Used the bathroom in the house. Once I figured out this was my new home, it’s all been good.
Esther cocked her head to one side, “and where does it say that?”
“In Genesis, masturbation is a sin.” She puffed out her chest, proud of her answer.
“Indeed.” Esther rubbed her hands together, “I just love it how people take one passage and run with it. First of all that passage in the Bible is about Onan; he was asked to sleep with his brother’s wife and give her and heir. But he didn’t want to. He did sleep with her but emitted his seed on the ground. That has nothing to do with masturbation. In case you’re not aware, masturbation is self-pleasure. This one man’s actions found displeasure with God and he killed him. No masturbation involved.”
“You’re wrong. It is a sin!” Pam slammed her hand down on the table.
Oscar flinched.
“I never said it wasn’t as sin. But the example you gave is a stretch at best. If you want to preach a point that it’s a sin use a better example, like Galatian 5:16 and if you want to use children as a blessing use Psalms 127 3:5. Don’t use poor examples.”
Esther discretely put her hand on Oscar’s thigh. He placed his hand over hers, squeezing it slightly. She could tell that he was getting agitated; his leg under her hand quivered. She figured this was his mother’s goal.
Chet frowned, “Galatians 5:16.”
“It’s not a perfect example but I think”, she put her hand on her chest; “it’s better than Onan. ‘So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh. For the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh. They are in conflict with each other, so that you are not to do whatever you want’.”
“Psalm 127: 3-5,” Oscar whispered.
She answered, “Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are children born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their opponents in court.”
Pam scoffed, “the nature of your soul, to play house with Babylon here?”
Esther smiled a deep smile, “Matthew 7 verses 1 and 2.”
Chet smiled because he knew what they said and that was an excellent comeback.
Oscar had stopped eating. His hand on top of Esther’s became cold and clammy. She wrapped a finger around his, still trying to maintain their discreet pose.
“I still say you need to give Doris a shot.” Pam stared a hole through Esther.
“As my brother so eloquently put it mother, Doris ain’t much to look at but don’t all tits look the same in the dark.” Oscar said flatly.
Chet choked on his Coke. Oscar was getting braver. He saw a time that Oscar wouldn’t have said a word toward her.
Pam smacked the back of Otis’ head; there was a hunk of bread sticking out of his mouth. “Fool.” She roared.
Esther smiled again and gave Oscar’s hand a slight squeeze. “Luke 6:45.”
This time Chet couldn’t contain himself and he erupted into laughter.
Pam pushed herself from the table, “we’re leavin’.” She croaked.
“But maw, I not done.” Otis said with a mouth full of food.
“Oh, you’re done.”
She slammed the door behind them.
“Well done,” Chet complimented Esther on her knowledge of the Bible. “Well done. I wouldn’t have missed this for the world. I have been waiting for someone to stand up to that woman.”
“What do those scriptures say?” Oscar was lightly panting, his eyes closed.
“Shall I?” Chet asked.
“Be my guest.”
“Luke 6:45 says: good man out of the good treasure of his heart brings forth good: and an evil man out of the evil treasure of his heart brings forth evil. For out of the abundance of the heart his mouth speaks.”
Esther whispered as she placed her hand on the back of Oscar’s neck. “Matthew 7: 1 and 2 says, ‘Judge not, that you be judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged: and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you’.”
What are your favorite physical activities or exercises?
Cuddling on the couch.SleepSometimes I help with projects.Sometimes I like to show off my new clothes. A few short walks in the sunshine. But mostly sleep.
One leaf. One love. One letter. ~ When I was a child; someone told me, falling leaves were love letters mild. Oh, the things we believe. ~ Love letters from whom? From God, Mother Nature, Father Time? Love letters from lovers doom? Love letters, all mine. ~ Should I run after them, catch them in my hand? If I catch a leave, will it bring real love? Should this be my plan? If I chase love, will it fly away like a dove? ~ One leaf. One love. One letter. Will this wish; this promise stand. One leaf. One love. One letter. If I pull, will you lead me with a strand? ~ Should I stand under this tree? Love, rain down. Should I let the love come to me? Love that is never to frown. ~ Love, rain down. I’ll catch you when you fall. I will not trample over you. Love, rain down. We will have a ball. I will not grind you into dust. Love, rain down. I don’t want to be blue. ~ One leaf. One love. One letter. ~ Blow on the wind, leaf. I will catch you. Trust me. Love, rain down. Give me all the clues. The past. The future, I do not see. ~ Love, rain down. I’ll catch you. A love so sound. A love fresh as dew. ~ A childish fantasy. A thoughtful whim. One leaf. One love. One letter. Imagination to the brim. Love, rain down. Make all things better. ~ More leaves? More love? Should I chase you with a net? Letters falling from above. Or on the ground should I set. ~ Cover me leaves of love. Love, rain down. I’ll lay still. I will not shove. All the love to make a crown. ~ I chased you. You chased me. Love rained down. I caught you. Did you catch me? Promise me love, don’t make me a clown. ~ One leaf. One love. One letter. Light as a feather in my hand. To fill my heart, no fetters. Don’t slide through my fingers like sand. ~ One leaf. One love. One letter.
She put her arms around his waist; looked toward Oat with a grin, “and what did I tell you the other night? For a man that knows his way around the kitchen, can have anything he wants. She turned her attention back to Oscar, “sweetie do WE have another chair? I could sit in your lap but I don’t think your mother would approve.” She winked at Pam.
“Chet, you stayin’?” Oscar asked.
It was all he could do not to laugh. “Sure, I’ll have a Coke and a smile. But I ate with Bell.”
“I’ll be right back.” He winked at Esther and she winked back. He stopped, staring at her before putting is hands on her waist, pulled her to him and kissed her. He whispered in her ear, “that was not for show.”
It was all Chet could do not to say, ‘atta boy.’ But he kept his mouth shut.
Otis looked at the soup that was on the table. “Same soup as oth’er day?”
“Same soup.”
“I ain’t eaten no reheats.”
“I have found out that’s one of many things O and I have in common, we aren’t too proud,” she put great inflection on the proud; “to eat leftovers.”
Inside Chet was loving it. But he didn’t let it show.
Oscar had brought a plastic chair from the back porch and covered it with a woobie. She almost set in it, “Ess, sit in a regular chair. I insist. This is cold. I will sit here.”
She wrinkled her nose, “as you wish.”
“Ain’t dis sweet?” Otis roared. The mother still hadn’t said a word to either of them. She just glared at Esther.
She finally let her distaste be heard. “Where is your Christmas tree? Where is the nativity that should be in your front yard? You are a Christian or so you say you are.”
Oscar bit is lower lip before speaking. “I have never had a nativity in my front yard and it has been years since I’ve put up a Christmas tree. Nothing new there.”
“It ain’t right.” Pam scolded. “Jesus is cryin’ in heaven you know.”
“I’m sure Jesus doesn’t care if I have a tree or a nativity. He knows the nature of my soul.”
“But how are the people around you supposed to know that you’re a Christian if you do nothing to show it? Everyone in town is talking about you shackin’ up with Babylon.”
“I wish I could say you can look at me and tell. But I’m sure that is covered with a veil of mistrust.” His stomach seized, “no one has said a word to me about Esther.”
Pam stuck her nose up in the air, “you are expected at Christmas dinner. Doris will be there. I want you to get to know her. She’s a good girl. Ten years younger than you. But that’s a good thing. Not too old to bear children.” She glared even harder at Esther.
“You already have five grandchildren. How many do you want?”
“All God sees fit to give me. They are his precious gifts and you ain’t doin’ a thing to receive his gifts. It is a sin to spill your seed on the ground. Think of all the little babies you’re ah killin’.”
If Oscar could have crawled under the table, he would have.
Meet Duke. A professor of literature. Originally from Maine; now teaching in South Carolina. Nasty divorces can do that.
Day in and day out, Duke played with words. Taught the words of others. Old words. New words. If he let it, teaching could fill every minute of every day. He had very little time for his own words.
Duke had a blog of his own, ‘theburntoutprofessor’. He had only posted 5 things.
5 things in 2 years. Wow! What a waste? No one was waiting on the edge of their seats for anything he had written. “Just write”, he told himself on many occasions. With pen in hand, all those words he played with were gone. All the things he needed to say evaporated into nothingness.
One night, he lay awake on his bed trying to come up with a fun idea for his senior students. He might have one student that didn’t have a social media account. ‘His blog’, he thought. He would have his students find a person on a blog site to write their class project about. Happy with his idea, he fell fast asleep.
A groan fell over his class as he shared is brilliant idea. They had all semester to find a writer and analyze their blog.
He gave them a time line as a guide. First on the list, find a blog. Then discover your person. That wasn’t too much to ask between Homer and Bryant. Right?
Sam was one of his most active students. She was smart, quiet, worked hard, and worked. Two weeks after the assignment, she handed in her blog choice and the blog she found; Chico’s Mom. She had even picked out a name for her assignment, Analyzing Chico. With a big smilie face and the word, ‘cute’, Duke gave her work back.
As he lay awake he wondered, ‘was cute really the right word’?
Every Friday, Sam submitted her work. She printed off the piece and her take on it. She was doing way more work than he felt was required. But that was Sam. As a professor, he liked students like Sam.
Her analysis’ intrigued him. He took it upon himself to look at this blog. There was a couple times he disagreed with her spin. But wasn’t that the best part about poetry? What does it say to you? What message do you get from someone else’s emotional battleground?
The Covid Lollipop. Shew! Sam had a whole different thought pattern. She prescribed to the idea that covid was a hoax and the pandemic was an economic weapon used to terrorize the world. The Covid Lollipop proved her point. At home testing was a waste of money.
He didn’t feel that way. Even now, he wouldn’t eat in a restaurant. Still taught classes with a mask on. The Covid Lollipop was entertaining. Cute. There was that word again; cute.
He almost sent her a message. Almost. Since Sam was reviewing Chico’s Mom’s work, he decided not to follow her.
Honor Thy Parents; Duke had never been religious and people that believed in religion blew his mind. It was so foreign to him to believe in a higher power.
He felt like he had an amazing childhood and it broke his heart to think other children didn’t. He wanted to send her a message and ask her about her ‘craptastic’ childhood. But.
As the weeks passed, he found himself waiting for her next post. Some were funny. Others sad. She alluded that she was working on other stuff. Would she post them?
He hadn’t looked forward to anything like he looked forward to the next post.
New Earth. He didn’t think Sam would choose this one. It wasn’t a poem. Her blog was titled ‘Poetry & More’. New Earth was a short story. It made him so mad that the main character essentially committed suicide because she didn’t want to live in a world void of God. What kind of stupid logic was that? He had written out a whole big message to her wanting to understand the reasoning. But.
Look at Chico. He’s so cute. There was that word again, cute. If she loved an animal as much as she appeared to love Chico, could she love a person the same way? None of her writing gave the indication that she was in a relationship.
All of Duke’s students did a good job on this assignment. Four said they hated it. Overall the feedback was positive. So much so, he was toying with the idea of making it a permanent part of his course outline.
Sam, of course, made an A.
Coffee was such an important part of Duke’s life. He got up every morning, turned the pot on and took a shower. When he stepped out of the shower, the aroma of brewed coffee hit him full in the face. It was amazing.
On this morning, he wasn’t greeted by that divine smell. Where was his coffee? To his horror, the pot had died. Great.
After he dressed, he wondered down the beach to a little snack shack. The one where Sam worked.
Finally, coffee. She poured his coffee as he sat on the patio listening to the waves. Now this was something to write about; as he closed his eyes absorbing the sound and smell of the ocean. As usual, his words got lost.
A new person had arrived. Close enough he could hear a voice over the waves. Far enough away, he couldn’t understand what was being said.
He was almost asleep. The waves were magic. “Professor”. Someone was calling his name. “Professor”. It was Sam.
“Yes.” He forced himself to focus on her smiling face. She looked elated.
“I’ve met someone you should me.” He followed her to the only other person on the patio. On the table, the ocean breeze was causing a receipt to flap frantically under a heavy pen. Steam danced off a hot cup of coffee in the cooler morning air. Under a straw beach hat sat a woman. The wind forced sprigs of red hair to cling to her hat and face. Her face had been kissed by the South Carolina sun.
Sam beamed as she spoke, “professor meet Chico’s Mom.”
Poetry & More 