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A story about a boy and mysterious hobo with amnesia |
I was awake and getting dressed when Mom’s car pulled up to the curb. I heard her heels clicking against the kitchen floor. She was getting ready to knock on my bedroom door just as I opened it. “Hey, you’re already up. Ready to go?” Her eyes were red, and her voice shook as she tried to talk in a cheerful tone. “Yeah, just let me get my shoes.” As I slipped on my shoes, she clicked around the kitchen getting meat out of the freezer and mumbling something about fried chicken. “Sound’s good,” I said, guessing she was talking about supper. “Okay, let’s go.” She took one last look in the mirror, took out a tissue, and blotted the moist makeup from under her eyes. *** It‘s funny how graveyards never look creepy in the daytime, but you’d never catch me in one at night. The darkness somehow brings cemeteries to life with spooky shadows and eerie sounds. In the daytime, though, it’s just stones with names of those poor souls lying six feet under. My uncle’s grave was near the back, by a rusty fence. The headstone was small and set into the ground, not one of those grand statues towering above all the others. I don’t like those; it seems they’re looking down on all the smaller ones. Mom knelt and wiped away the dirt and leaves covering his stone. She did it gently as if she were brushing the hair out of his eyes. “I wonder what life would’ve been like, if a... you know.” I stopped talking and looked away. Mom put her arm around my shoulder. “It’s okay, hon. I know what you mean.” She squeezed me. “I wish you could’ve known him. You’re a lot like him, you know. Quiet, sensitive, and always curious.” She smiled and wiped a tear forming the corner of her eye. “It never gets any easier, especially since I don’t understand why he was down by the rivers, alone, or how an excellent swimmer drowned.” “Did they try to figure it out or something? I mean, it seems weird and all.” Mom sat down beside the headstone. “No. The coroner said it was an accidental drowning, so there was nothing to investigate.” She said quietly for the longest time, staring. I sat down beside her and held her. She looked at me, smiled, and began talking again, “I just know I feel it here," she tapped her chest, " in my heart, that something bad happened, but the police said he fell, hit his head on a log, and drowned.” She took a deep breath, “And, that's it.” We sat together, and Mom told me stories about Jim. The more she told me, the more I wished I had known him. We left the cemetery and went to Grandma’s for Jim’s birthday dinner. They had a party every year since his death. While everyone else talked and ate, I went off by myself to the stream behind Grandma’s house. Mom said this was Jim’s 'thinkin’ spot' so now that I had two mysteries on my hands, I decided going there might help me put some thoughts together. I wanted to help Ben, but I just had to know more about Jim’s death too. I threw flower petals in the stream and watched them drift away. Uncle Jim was only 17 when he died, about two years older than me. I guess that’s why Mom watches me so closely. Then I thought about Ben. He doesn’t even know who he is. He could have a family out there sad over a lost loved one, like Mom. I had to talk to him again. I spread my jacket on the ground and stretched out on it. I must’ve dozed off because the next thing I remember is Mom standing over me, softly calling my name. “Caleb.” She shook me. I opened my eyes. “You had me so worried.” “Sorry. I was just thinkin’ and I fell asleep, I guess.” She took my hand to help me up. “Come on, we're ready to say a prayer and cut the cake.” I joined the party and had some cake, but my mind was still on the mysteries of life and death. Monday, I'd begin my search for answers. |
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