A Touch of Air: A Going Green Story

Along the white picket fence winter pansies of many colors blanket the pointed petal chrysanthemums. The tangy marijuana of pines touches the air like cinnamon on the wheat flakes of a morning breakfast cereal. The browns of beech and oak bark, the green of fallen beechnuts, intermingling with brown and green acorns, and maples still green, giving a false hope of more summer guard the old white house on the corner of Pansy Street.  From the cross street Green Avenue, Wilma Green can be seen, supervising her middle school aged son Boyd on Saturday. He cultivates the autumn vegetable garden in the backyard. He pushes and pulls a bow rake, moving his upper arm muscles like a wombat among the red cabbage rows. In another week Wilma will harvest and pickle them to accompany her homemade sauerbraten at the Oktoberfest dinner at their church. Tall and lanky Burton Green comes out the backdoor. He wears a blue shirt, red bowtie, navy blue khakis, and brown Oxfords.
“Shirley’s bringing Donny in this morning for me to fit insoles in his orthopedic shoes.”
“I didn’t think a quadriplegic would need orthopedic shoes.”
“He needs to have the most to be proud of as possible.”
“It’s possible to get on with life in in good shoes.”
“But Donny can’t look down to see them.”
Later
Downtown, merchants provide goods and professionals tie the red tape around the business and retail zone. Mimosas turn yellow embarrassed, having lost their sunny flowers in June. Stubborn petunias stick their perfumes out at the shoppers and merchants. Burton inserts his parking card in the lot meter. His hand trembles, hoping that he’ll measure and fit Donny’s insoles properly. He sticks the card in the pocket of his khakis. He walks to his shop. The white colonial sign with black Old English letters hangs over the brick sidewalk. He shakes the key in the door. It opens as if it has a mind of its own. Burton pictures himself, placing the insoles in Donny’s shoes. He holds onto a mental image of Shirley, taking off his shoes and putting them on again. It’s an important day and yet he hopes for this.
Mayor Carter’s brother Walt strolls on his way to his real estate office. He looks around in forward steps. They could pass for a waltz when he stops. Burton shares his anxiety about acting naturally in front of Shirley and Donny when they come into his shop for his insoles.
“Relax and realize that doing work will work for you every time.”
Burton feels nervous but forces a smile.
“Thank you Mr. Carter.”
“You’re welcome son,” Walt says fatherly.
Burton blinks at his golden white mustache, twitching. Shoe chain store manager Chester Wasky walks over to them.
“I have a young couple who wants to see Old Man Sullivan’s house so excuse me.”
“Take care Mr. Carter.”
Chester smirks. “The clients of other real estate agencies see his houses on the website and buy them. He should pack it in.”
“He and Mayor Carter built this town.”
“It served the economy better as a farm town.”
“It still does on the other side of town.”
“Shirley didn’t like my insoles for Donny.”
“Couldn’t you tell their fits from Donny’s reactions?”
“The kid’s a ventriloquist’s dummy head.”
“Get away from my store.”
“Say that while you’re in business.”
“You didn’t get Shirley’s.”
“I don’t need it.”
Burton keeps his composure. He turns away and goes into his shop. A mother and daughter walk past him.
“I didn’t see you coming.”
“Could you clean and shine Wanda’s black shoes?”
“Take a seat and have Wanda take them off.”
They sit in the two middle yellow chairs against the right wall. Wanda takes off her pink shoes.
“I’ll trade you.” Burton gives her a Hubba Bubba Halloween bubble gum.
“Thank you Mr. Green.”
“So will the dentist.”
“Dad’s good.”
“So are your grandfather’s pumpkins in pumpkin pies.”
Burton smiles. Wanda blows a big bubble. It hides her face.
“Be careful honey!” Burton says.
It breaks, leaving her face pink and sticky.
“There goes my last facial soap.”
“Yep.”
good shoes.”
“But Donny can’t look down to see them.”
Later
Right before noon Burton feels worried that Shirley hasn’t brought in Donny yet. He steps outside on the brick sidewalk. He catches the sunbeams, sliding down, yellowing more the mimosas. He knows that Donny can ride his motorized wheelchair down the hill. He hears the scream of a woman. He looks up Green Avenue.
Shirley and Donny never made it across the street. The wheelchair rides fast out of control down the hill. It goes against traffic.
“Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!” Shirley says.
Donny seems all smiles. He enjoys the adventure. A woman comes out of the supermarket. She holds two bags of groceries. Suddenly she screams.
“The Headless Horseman’s real!”
His grandfather’s pickup truck heads on a collision course with Donny. Burton runs onto the road without thinking. He trips on his loose brown shoelaces. He goes down. He feels the blood, seeping out of his face. He sees pale red in the bottom of his pupils. He gets up, but his grandfather saw him fall. He pulls to the side of the road. Donny’s wheelchair stops on level pavement.
“Her battery went dead,” Donny says.
Burton and Shirley run to him. Donny just smiles. Shirley kisses him on his cheek. Burton pushes him onto the sidewalk. He brings him to his shop.
Later
Shirley pushes Donny out of the Shoemaker’s Shoppe. He chews something heartily. Shirley throws the Tootsie Roll wrapper into the yellow pinewood trash container.
“Mr. Green’s like the Wizard of Oz.”
His feet in hospital socks look like they would be comfortable if he could feel below his head.
“I feel good,” Donny says. He smiles.
Burton steps out of his shop. White first aid cream covers his face. It makes him look like he wears a clown mask for trick or treating on Halloween. He looks up the street. He smiles. Shirley pushes Donny in his wheelchair to her car in the parking lot.
THE END