The Terrain--Chapter 1

Hugh’s feet carried him across the measureless stretch of hallway. The tap of each of his footsteps summoned a square of dense, green light, each light trying and sometimes succeeding in breaking beyond the perimeter of its frame.

Though he had his walking stick with him, a nurse was guiding him by the elbow. He felt a wall in front of him but before he could maneuver away from it, the nurse said, ‘Careful, you’re about to walk into a wall.’

He felt her stubby fingers clutch his shoulder after he’d already hesitated his next movement.

She guided him to a chair and there were a series of scooting sounds before another woman’s voice said, ‘You must be Hugh Vicker.’

‘That’s right, miss.’
‘Missis.’

‘Sorry.’

The woman made strange breathing noises through her teeth like one does when they’re jotting something down hastily.
‘There’s been a slight change of plans it looks like,’ she said. ‘You were going to stay with … Jed Pilcher but now you’ll be staying with Myles.’

‘All right,’ Hugh said.

‘Okay, let’s see … And your father’s name was David?’
‘Mm hm.’

‘Your mother is Pamela?’

‘Yep.’

‘What was her maiden name?’

‘Jezebel,’ Hugh said.

There was the sound of fabric going swoosh. Like fat thighs brushing together. ‘Jezebel?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your mother’s maiden name isn’t Cohen?’

‘Where does it say that?’ Hugh asked and sat forward as though he would actually be able to read something.
‘Here on your information from the Gresham Care Center.’

‘What are you asking me for if you know her maiden name already?’

She exhaled. ‘It’s part of our standard procedure to prevent fraud.’

‘It’s not like I’m opening a bank account,’ Hugh said. ‘I’m coming to live here.’

‘Okay then, so, we’ll go ahead aaaaaand change this toooo Jezebel then. It’s strange that we’d have the wrong name—’

‘Ha, you had it right the first time. Her maiden name’s Cohen, I was just kidding.’

‘I … see …’

‘You don’t sound like you’re laughing, Miss—sorry, Missis who?’

‘Furbank,’ she said. ‘All right then, date of birth, November eleventh, 1993? That’s correct?’

‘Yep.’

‘And age twenty-five—’

Hugh sat back and breathed heavily. ‘Are you going to recap all this stuff now?’

‘Well yes, if you insist on playing these childish games … like you did at Gresham.’

‘Oh it’s all in good fun,’ Hugh assured.

‘I don’t see how a joke as trite as a phony maiden name would be amusing or constructive to you or us.’

‘No need to make me feel bad,’ Hugh said. ‘You have beautiful eyes, if I might add.’

She cleared her throat. ‘Your middle name is Maximus?’

They stumbled uncomfortably through the rest of the page. When they were through, she told him that Cassandra would show him to his room.

He felt Cassandra take his elbow and the lower part of his arm into both of her hands as she helped him up. She asked him very slowly and carefully how he was doing.

‘I’m blind, Miss, not hard of hearing,’ Hugh teased.

‘It’s Missis,’ she said, which prompted Hugh to think that being married and uptight were prerequisites for women to work there.

It was a long musky walk.

‘How big is it?’ Hugh asked.

‘It’s kind of like a little apartment, you could say. There’s a television in there and that’s sort of in the main room,’ Cassandra said. ‘Then you and whoever you’re living with will have two separate rooms with a bathroom in between.’

She led him into the room.

Good. No stairs on the way.

‘Hugh, this is Myles,’ Cassandra said.

‘Hello,’ Hugh said, ‘Eh, should I stick out my hand?’

‘Oh,’ Myles said bashfully.

When Hugh didn’t feel his hand he quickly pulled it away and Cassandra laughed abruptly.

‘I guess you’re my new roommate,’ Myles said.

‘Guess so,’ Hugh said. ‘Anyone else I should know about in here?’

‘Nope,’ Cassandra assured. ‘It’ll just be the two of you for now. Well … for as long as you’re allowed or can stand each other.’ She laughed again. Her laughter was what a laugh would sound like if you told a joke to an old homeless woman chewing on a bone. ‘You’re probably tired,’ she said to him. He wasn’t. ‘If you like, you can relax while we move some of your things into the room for you.’

A) An assumption about his physical condition.

B) The offering of a choice with only one real option.

Both signs that, perhaps, these people were probably more used to dealing with the retarded than the blind.
Before Hugh could say ‘far enough,’ her squeaking shoes carried her down the hall into widths and depths that would remain unknown until he was able to go out on his own and run his careful hands along the home’s perimeters.
He could hear those squeaking shoes all the way down the hall mixing with others and the sounds of distant and not unpleasant scraping abrasions of shoes striking thick carpets and squeaking against other tile floors. There were voices weighted by the hum of earnest authority and conversations interspersed with careful laughter, caused more than likely by long running in-jokes and humor so dry that one couldn’t help but associate them with things cold and medical. From other rooms, there were wheezing breaths and pre-nighttime snores. All of this added to an air of perfect, impenetrable control. Laugh tracks from various television shows trickled down the hall, most of their eras evident by their sound quality. The 1950’s shows were yellow. The 1960’s were a kind of violet silver. If he was careful he could pick this up in the dialogue alone.

Hugh began to run his walking stick along the walls very slowly to feel how big it was. From what he could judge, it was small. His shoes squeaked against hard floor as he dragged his heels. He felt along the space that would be his room and that was even smaller than the main room. He put his hand down on the bed to feel how soft it was then carefully laid himself down.

‘So, you grew up around this area?’ Myles called from the other room.

His voice was loud and echoed off the walls, startling him.

Hugh thought about his question and said, ‘Yeah. Just further down the mountain here. Closer to Clackamas.’

‘Mm. And eh … did you come from another place?’

‘You mean a care home?’

‘Yeah,’ Myles said.

‘Yeah I was in a care home before this.’

‘How come you moved?’

Hugh shrugged. ‘I guess I’m a trouble maker.’

Myles laughed.

‘This place is pretty tightly run then?’ Hugh said.

‘It’s a pretty big place, from what they tell me,’ Myles said, as though he hadn’t heard the real question.

A feminine voice echoed from the front entrance. ‘All right, how are you guys doing?’ It was Cassandra again.

‘Great, great,’ Hugh said. ‘How about that tour?’

‘Oh yes, I’ll show you around in just a minute, I just have to take care of something,’ Cassandra said. ‘I’ll be right back.’
Her perfumed fragrance remained though it was evident, despite the fact that her footsteps were completely inaudible, that she was gone.

Hugh sat up on his bed. ‘So, Myles, what are you in for?’

Myles paused for a moment, then after a big introduction of inhalation, said, ‘Arson.’

‘Arson? You’re kidding me.’

‘Yeah, I am,’ Myles said. ‘It was a joke.’

‘A funny one, at that. But what are you really here for? What ails you?’

Myles hesitated. ‘I’m blind.’

Hugh didn’t say anything for a moment. ‘You’re blind?’

‘Mm hm.’

Hugh shook his head, a means of expression meant only for himself. ‘You’re blind.’

‘Yes.’

‘In other words, you can’t see?’

‘No. Couldn’t you tell I was blind?’ Myles said.

‘No man, I didn’t know until you told me.’

‘Are you serious?’ Myles said, his tone puzzled.

‘Serious as syphilis.’

‘You just—you just couldn’t tell I was blind?’

‘No.’

‘I don’t look blind to you?’

‘You don’t look anything, man. I’m blind too.’

‘Blind Two, the sequel!’ Myles said in a booming voice, then chuckled. ‘Well that’s cool, I guess.’

‘Cool? How is that cool? What’s wrong with you? I’m beginning to think you got a floggin on your noggin when you were a baby.’

‘Why?’ Myles asked.

‘Think about it, Myles. And don’t tell me you’re one of those people with a physical disability who, aside from that have no reason why they shouldn’t function properly in the brain but don’t bother using it.’

‘I aint one of them.’

‘Good. Listen then. Don’t you see what the problem is? What if there’s a fire or a mysterious green gas seeping in or glass on the floor and we don’t see it?’

Myles hesitated for a moment, then said, ‘Well, we could smell it.’

‘The gas, maybe, but the glass?’

‘Sure. We’d be able to smell whatever was on the inside of the glass that broke.’

Hugh tried to speak for a moment but the only thing that came out of his throat were frustrated bubbles of air. ‘I don’t even know where to begin with all the things wrong with what you just said.’

‘I guess it would be kind of tough,’ Myles said.

‘And our floor is hard. What if I fall out of bed while I’m asleep?’

‘Probably the same thing that would happen if you weren’t blind.’

Hugh nodded and smiled. ‘Right. You know, Myles, I hope you don’t take it personally. I didn’t mean I have a problem with you. I just think it’s silly, the very idea of it, you know? Did they think we’d become good friends because we’re both blind?’

‘I guess so.’

‘You don’t have to agree with me all the time, you know.’

‘But so far I have, Hugh.’

‘Good, I like that in a person. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad last minute change after all.’

Footsteps. Then Cassandra said, ‘Well how about that little tour?’

‘I’m ready,’ Hugh said.

She helped him up and guided him through the hall.

Suddenly she stopped them.

Hugh felt her fingers grab his fingers and she pulled them out roughly so that he felt obligated to extend his arm. She spread his fingers out.

‘Your fingernails are very dirty,’ she said.

‘Thanks,’ Hugh said. ‘Yours are very long.’

‘They’re natural.’

They continued on.

‘You’ll get to know your neighbors before long. A lot of their doors are closed but Javier’s door looks like it’s open. You wanna meet him?’

‘Certainly,’ Hugh said.

They went a few steps forward and he heard the sound of voices on some sort of political talk show.
‘Javier,’ Cassandra said, ‘this is our new resident, Hugh.’

‘Hi,’ a voice replied.

Hugh felt goosebumps sprout up all along his skin. ‘Hello,’ Hugh said.

Cassandra continued. ‘Hugh’s staying with Myles right across the hall. Javier likes to play music, don’t you Javier?’
‘Yeah,’ a quiet voice responded.

‘What’s your last name?’ Hugh asked. When Javier didn’t answer, he asked Cassandra the same thing.
‘His last name is Rodriguez,’ she said.

‘Rodriguez?’ Hugh repeated. ‘Rodriguez?’

‘Yeah,’ Cassandra said. ‘Are you alright, Hugh? You’re shaking?’
‘I’m just a little cold,’ Hugh replied.

‘It’s not cold in here. It’s actually hot.’

‘Well I’m hot then,’ Hugh said and let out a nervous chuckle after he realized how abrupt and loud his words came out.
Someone started picking notes on a guitar. The notes shot tiny silver pins through the black night of the Terrain and gave way to a layer of light underneath.

At first, Hugh thought that there was a fourth person in the room playing the guitar but Hugh quickly gathered that it was Javier. The notes came out slow but eventually they picked up.

Hugh liked the tune because he’d heard it before. But then something clicked in his brain as the tune began to take shape. It hit him like a dream remembered years later and not thought of in the space between its occurrence and its recollection. Hugh knew that tune but it was not a tune that they played on the radio. Nor was it a tune that existed anywhere in his CD collection, yet it was one that he’d heard over and over.

Hugh knelt down imagining that he was coming closer to Javier. ‘Javier!’ he said enthusiastically. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Hugh,’ Cassandra said, but she didn’t get to finish.

‘Javier! Man, I can’t believe it.’

Javier didn’t answer. The guitar playing had stopped.

‘Can he hear me?’ Hugh asked. ‘Did he leave or something?’

‘No. He’s … sitting right here,’ Cassandra said. ‘You two know each other?’

‘Yeah! This is my friend Javier. We’re …’ Hugh didn’t finish when he felt the silence around him. It was not just a silence like that of people listening, but a silence of total absorption, of people listening and destroying his words before they had a chance to land in the ‘coherent’ section of the jet-hanger in their psyches.

‘Javier,’ Hugh said. ‘Don’t you know who I am?’

No answer.

‘Does he recognize me?’ Hugh said, turning his head in the direction that he last heard Cassandra.

In the direction that Javier had been, he heard overwhelming silence, as though he’d never been there. From Cassandra’s direction, he heard air escaping her throat, as though she was assessing the situation and trying to find the words to answer him.

‘He doesn’t, does he?’ Hugh said. ‘He doesn’t recognize me.’

‘Javier,’ Cassandra said, then loudly and slowly, ‘Your friend Hugh is here. Don’t you remember your friend Hugh?’
Hugh heard that same familiar guitar tune pick up once more. That same one he learned, himself.

‘Nope,’ Javier said.